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She then turned and moved swiftly down the hall. He followed after her, his hands clenched into fists. The first plan to get the duplicate key to the Ruby Fae was bad enough. But this new one, to take the original to Regan, shrank his balls.
“Please, don’t even think it.” He whispered the words over her shoulder a she hurried toward the guard’s room.
The troll, whose job it was to accompany Sandra to the tower cell, would be only too happy to expose her traitorous efforts to Margetta.
She reached the guardroom and he watched in relief as she slipped the key back on its hook. As she retraced her steps then turned up the hall, he could finally breathe.
She glanced at him. “Why do you look so mad?”
He drew her to a stop, turning her toward him. “I don’t want you to do this, any of it. I don’t want you to risk your life. If anything happened to you—”
He couldn’t finish the rest of the sentence. Instead his mind, or maybe it was his heart, burned with a sudden realized truth. Somewhere, in the middle of this nightmare in Margetta’s fortress, he’d fallen deeply in love with Sandra.
Her eyes were wide and unblinking as she stared back at him. He had hold of her arms again. He might have released her, might have taken a step back, but a long swooshing sound came from her lips. She then leaned up and kissed him.
She kissed him.
Sweet Goddess and all the elf lords burning in hell, nothing had felt better to him in his entire existence than Sandra’s lips pressed to his.
He wrapped his arms around her, pressing her hard to his chest. When her lips parted, he slid his tongue into heaven.
He groaned at so much wet softness, the promise of what she had between her legs. He sank into her mouth, then offered a slow push-pull of his tongue to give her a taste of what he had to offer.
The sudden sound of laughter down the hall had her drawing back, but he didn’t want the moment to end, couldn’t let it.
He switched to telepathy, something he could do with Sandra because she possessed a strong ability to path. I don’t want to let you go.
Griffin. Her hands were on his waist, squeezing.
Glancing around, he released her, caught her hand then pulled her swiftly down a short hall leading to a half dozen storage rooms. Her slippers made a soft rasp on the hard stone floor as she moved with him.
He opened the door to one of the fortress’s large pantries then pulled her inside. Careful not to make a sound, he shut the door.
If he’d had any doubt about her interest in the brief, forbidden moment, he was reassured when she threw herself against him. She wrapped her arms around his neck and held on tight.
He turned her, pressing her up against the thick wood door, connecting his hips to hers. She was breathing hard as he kissed her again. She smelled like heaven, like a combination of herbs from the garden. He recognized one as rosemary, but the other he couldn’t quite place. Sage, maybe. Her scent worked on him in a powerful way, causing his hips to arch into her.
She moaned in response, her body writhing beneath his. Her hunger matched his own. Drawing back, he petted her face with his hand, stroking her alabaster cheek with his thumb. His gaze took in her dilated pupils and the way she kept catching her breath.
He savored the full length of her body, the softness of her skin, and her delicate herbal scent.
His whole body vibrated with desire, his legs shaking with need. He’d never used the slave women who serviced the men; he’d never wanted to. What he wanted was this and he knew she could feel his arousal by the way her hips moved from side to side. He groaned, leaned in and settled his lips on hers once more.
He was kissing her at long last.
Fire and love combined.
Hunger.
He hadn’t understood that his drive toward her, to be with her in the fortre
ss, to look after her, had been so much more than a warrior’s instinct.
He loved this woman, loved her with all his heart. And he wanted to bury himself between her legs.
The housekeeper’s voice called from down the hall. “Sandra, where are you? I need my feet rubbed and you promised.”
As he drew back, he had to laugh. “From this to tending a troll’s warty feet.”
