Destined Hearts

by Castle, Angela

  “Mae? You been cooking again?” she whispered, turning. Her head was lifted and the coffee placed under her nose. The rim of a foam cup was placed to her lips; she parted them, the warm liquid rushing over her tongue. The sweetness of the coffee hit her. She spluttered, and the liquid stopped. “Eww. How much sugar did you put in that, Mae?”

  “You need to be replenished. I am not Mae,” a deep, rich-accented baritone told her.

  Now she opened her eyes despite their heaviness. A man with large, broad shoulders and piercing, vibrant, emerald eyes gazed down at her. In his hand he held a foam cup, pushing it back to her lips.

  “Drink.” It wasn’t a request or polite gesture but a stone cold demand.

  Defiance and stubbornness rose to the surface, and she weakly shoved at the cup, spilling half the coffee over the blanket. “Who the hell are you?” Aria wanted to jump from the bed and run. She glanced around the unfamiliar room with no idea where she was. Not that she could run anywhere in her weakened state. She was at the mercy of this, well…this…large, rather good-looking, dark…extremely handsome…

  Oh, cripes, every part of him oozed with an undeniable, dark sexuality, even when he was scowling at her. With thick, dark eyebrows knitted together in a frown, full lips pulled tight into a line, high cheekbones with a strong, firm, square chin, and a bronzed skin tone, he really was beautiful to gaze at. Rich, thick hair spilled down across the shoulders of the suit he wore. Aria had never liked long hair on men, but this one pulled it off to perfection.

  “There is no need for that, ma petite,” he growled with a firmer hold on the cup and the back of her head. Tilting her back, he forced her to drink the remaining coffee. Some of it spilt out and dribbled down her chin.

  She coughed as some went down the wrong way in her pathetic efforts to fight him off. What the hell was wrong with her? Why was she so weak?

  Sure he was sexy and good looking, but he was also dangerous.

  He’d done something to her, drugged her, maybe. Aria frowned, trying to

  remember what it could have been; everything was hazy, unclear. “What have you done to me? Have you given me drugs? I don’t do drugs.”

  He didn’t even blink as he removed the cup, dabbing at her chin with a paper napkin. “No drugs. You are merely weak from blood loss.”

  The deep timber of his light French accent not only sent tingling chills across her body, but it added to his seductive sensuality.

  “‘Merely weak from blood loss,’” Aria mimicked in her most sarcastic voice. She wanted to rage at him but didn’t even have the strength for that. “Why?”

  “You shall regain your strength; food will help replenish you quicker.” He turned away and stood up.

  She was forced to look way up as he towered above her. She gasped when he leaned forward, taking a firm hold of her shoulders to lift her, propping more pillows up behind her back so she could sit more comfortably. He then easily dragged a small table over to the bed, on top of which was the burger and fries she had scented earlier.

  “You will eat.” He set the bag down and fished out the fries.

  “What are you? The wicked witch from the gingerbread house?”

  Those big, hypnotic, green eyes stared at her in confusion. “I know of no witch; these are good foods to help you recover from blood loss.”

  “What happened to my blood? Did I have an accident?”

  He shook his head.

  Aria nervously licked her lips. “Where am I, and who are you?”

  The bed dipped under his weight as he sat down, picking up one of the fries. Aria’s mouth watered. Damn, she wanted to eat them. She couldn’t remember the last time she ate. For that matter, she couldn’t remember much of anything past waking up Thursday morning and deciding on a new venture that would help her make better money than the dinky job at the diner.

  Oh my God, the realization just hit her—was this dangerously, dark, sexy-as hell-on-wheels French Adonis one of her, uh, well…her first customer? She didn’t feel like she had had sex, yet she peeked down under the sheets. She still had on her bra and panties.

  “Non, ma petite, I have not touched you that way, yet.” His tone

  held sensual promise.

  Her sights flew up to his, and their gazes locked. Her heart was hammering with a mix of fear and desire. The desire she tried to stamp out. “Um, look, I appreciate you taking care of me and all, but whatever you paid me, I’ll give it back. I’m not really an, ah…” Aria stumbled on the last word; she felt the heat in her cheeks, avoiding his penetrating gaze. His lips actually twitched up at the corners. His amusement confused her.

  “I know you are not a whore.” His tone gentled, and his expression softened. “Yet I am curious to know why you were dressed as one?”

  Guilt flushed over her. Mae, her best friend, her only friend, had been making good money turning tricks for years. Mae had said it was easy, just like learning to ride a bike—the first few times were a bit bumpy, but you picked it up easy enough. Her job at the diner was not earning enough to save for the night courses she wanted to take. Thinking she could make money in this manner had been a big mistake.

  She licked her lips, tasting the remaining overly sweet coffee. He was staring at her lips with unmistakable heat in his eyes. “I, ah, thought I could do it, but I can’t. Really I can’t. I needed the money, and Mae said it was easy, but it’s not, I’m sorry.” Why the hell was she apologizing to a complete stranger?

  “This Mae is a fool for telling you such things. I would not allow you to attempt such folly again; you are not a whore but a unique, beautiful woman. What is your name?”

  “Didn’t I tell you?”

  He shook his hair.

  Aria realized how dirty it was; she involuntarily wrinkled her nose.

  Despite the clean suit he wore, he actually didn’t smell that pleasant.

  “Tell me now,” he asked in a deep, commanding tone; he was obviously a man not used to being disobeyed.

  Her rebellious instincts seemed to override the danger alert kicking through her brain. Aria contemplated giving him a false name.

  As if reading her mind, he said, “Do not lie to me. I can feel your heartbeat, woman. I always know a lie.”

  Well, shit, so much for that tactic. What about not telling him at all?

  He leaned forward, cupping her chin, raising her head to meet his eyes. They were deep, as if they penetrated deep into her very soul. His touch was white hot; her body reacted and began to tremble.

  “Aria Nova Tempest,” she blurted out before she could stop herself.

  He released her chin. “You will answer all and any question I give you truthfully and without hesitation. Do you understand, Aria?”

  There he went again ordering her about like he owned her. Well she was getting the hell out of here as soon as she damn well could. “As long as you answer mine.”

  He cocked his head to the side; there was something in his green depths she couldn’t quite read. “As you wish.”

  Aria opened her mouth again to ask, or rather repeat, an earlier question. He took advantage of her open mouth to pop the fry in. Her mouth closed over the tasty, salted morsel, chewing with a pleasurable moan. He offered more; she almost bit his fingers as he hurried to keep up with her demands. Oh, God, I’m a ravenous beast.

  Those full, sensuous lips of his twitched up once again. He seemed to be enjoying the task of feeding her, and strangely enough, she liked being fed by him. There was something intimate about this whole thing.

  With the fries all gone, he unwrapped the burger. He looked as if he had never seen one before as he examined its contents.

  “No more, thank you.”

  The scowl returned to his face. “Your body needs more.” He pushed the burger at her.

  She shoved it away, finding some courage to scowl right back at him. “I don’t want any more. The fries were enough.”

  “You will. Your body is too thin,” he insisted with more for
ce.

  A little too stunned at being called thin to react to that comment, considering she was in the double digit size range of a sometimes fourteen, sometimes twelve, she glared at him. “I damn well will not, you arrogant, smelly ass!” The words flew out of her mouth without thought.

  She shouldn’t be insulting a man who could possibly kill her, while she

  was in no state to fight him off if he tried. At least she was starting to feel better, thanks to the coffee and fries. He looked genuinely offended but made no move to kill her over it. Instead, he rose to his feet. Damn, he was tall, a good six-four, she guessed.

  “Forgive me, mademoiselle. I haven’t had a chance to bathe. There is no chamber pot or water in which to wash,” he defended.

  “Uh, haven’t you ever heard of a bathroom?” She read confusion in his expression. Even when scowling, the guy was damn sexy.

  “A bath chamber? How could they…?” His gaze moved about the room. Standing up from the bed, he walked to the bathroom door, opening it and switching on the light to peer in.

  “What are you? From the Dark Ages?” Aria noticed his bare feet, which were caked with dirt. He turned, stalking back to the bed; Aria’s eyes went wide, and she gasped as he ripped off the covers to scoop her up into his arms, as easily as lifting a pat of butter.

  “Oui, you could say I am.”

  That would explain his attitude, but hang on a second, back up. He couldn’t possibly be from the Dark Ages, could he?

  He carried her into the bathroom, setting her down on the edge of a two-person bathtub. The shower hung above it.

  “You’re joking, right? You’re not really from the Dark Ages.”

  Nothing about his expression told her he was. He pulled off the expensive-looking jacket, casually tossing it aside, and removed the shirt.

  Aria was like a stunned deer caught in bright headlights as she stared at the wide expanse of his chest. Holy crap! Thick muscles bulged from his shoulders and down his arms, oozing raw power and strength. He had defined pectorals and a set of defined abs that put the best male models and body builders to shame, even if it was all mostly covered with a sweaty, caked-on grime.

  “Work the machinery,” he firmly ordered.

  Aria snapped out of her dazed, drooling state and stood up, her legs shaky and weak, but she managed, turning the shower knobs. She adjusted them until the heated water streamed down before stepping under the warm spray. The water cascaded down her body; she still had

  her black lace panties and bra on. Her knees and palms stung a little. She glanced down at them, realizing they were scrapped…from a fall? Aria frowned, trying to remember when she had fallen over.

  Then he stepped in behind her. She didn’t need a degree in nuclear fusion to realize he was stark naked as he pressed up beside her, the heat of his body hotter than the water flowing over them.

  “Tis a marvel how far you have come.” His gruff, deep voice held a note of awe. “These metal waterfalls are common?”

  Aria couldn’t help herself; she turned around, almost tripping in the process. Immediately, his arm banded around her waist, pulling her flush up against his naked chest. He pulled them slightly to the left so the water fell over onto her shoulder and his chest as she gawked up at him.

  He was a foot taller than her, and she felt the hardness of his erection poking into her lower stomach.

  “Showers are everywhere,” she managed to choke out. “How can a man not know what a shower is?”

  His emerald gaze locked with hers. “The truth may be hard for you to take.” His expression and tone were serious. He leaned her back up against the shower wall, glancing around, picking up one of the packaged soaps, examining the plastic. Another look of confusion flashed across his expression.

  Exasperated, Aria snatched the package from his hands and ripped it open.

  “Soap. Did you have that back in your Dark Ages? Shall I wash you, too, oh, my lord and master?”

  Even with her voice dripping in sarcasm, he simply nodded. “You may tend me, if you feel strong enough.”

  Aria was about to tell him where to shove the soap, but the idea of getting her hands all over that body of his stopped her. Her eyes moved downward and widened, and she swallowed. He had the most beautiful and strange cock she’d ever seen, not that she had much to compare it to.

  Long and thick, she was certain she’d never fit her fingers around it. The head was almost flat and rounded, slightly purple arrow shapes with a series of raised ridges, from the tip of the head running down the top side

  to the base.

  Aria shivered thinking about how it would feel with all those bumps thrusting in and out of her. She swallowed, her mouth dry. Her gaze flew back to his face. His lips twitched farther up his face. He was enjoying this, the bastard. She gripped the soap tightly in her fist.

  “Turn around,” she said tightly so she wouldn’t have to confront his enormous hard-on. “I’ll start with your back.”

  His heated green eyes regarded her for a moment before he turned.

  Oh, cripes! It was just as bad seeing his tight, firm ass, narrow waist, wide back and broad, muscled shoulders. He was simply beautiful all over. Aria snatched a washcloth and lathered the soap over it, pushed herself away from the wall, and began scrubbing it over his skin, starting with his neck and shoulders and working her way down. She heard him draw a sharp intake of breath, muscles clenching and retracting under her touch. It seemed he was just as affected by her as she was by him. This knowledge emboldened her.

  “So who am I washing? Do you have a name?” She hoped some conversation would keep her mind off of wanting to press her lips over every inch of skin she washed clean.

  “Ethan of Archalon.”

  She ran her fingers farther down his back, working the soap and cloth. “Well, Ethan of Archalon, am I going to get the answers I want?”

  She glided her hands over his left ass cheek. Hmm. It was firm.

  “Wench!” he hissed, reaching out to grip the shower railing.

  She dipped lower, lathering both long, strong legs, making sure she thoroughly cleaned each one. She even knelt down to wash the caked grime off his feet before working her way back up. Surprisingly, Aria was actually enjoying herself. “Considering this is the weirdest situation I’ve ever been in—almost naked in a shower, washing a man who I don’t know who’s never seen a shower; I’m weak from blood loss, and I’ve no idea why—I think a few answers are in order.” She rose to her feet, reaching for the shampoo bottles. “Put your head back under the flow.”

  He obeyed. She poured the shampoo on and began lathering her fingers through his shoulder length, dark hair.

  “What do you remember?” His tone was huskier, deeper than before.

  She massaged her fingers through his scalp; he gave a low moan of pleasure. Aria forced herself to think back as she rinsed his hair. Shame suddenly washed over her as memories began flooding back. One stupid, irrational decision had led her to this point. She remembered walking from their shared apartment to the street corner in Mae’s tight, short clothing. She was trying to mimic the way her friend walked, nerves making her shake, trying to give the tough act she had seen her friend do often enough.

  I can handle giving a blowjob, she thought. Full sex would cost a customer dearly, several hundred at least. A dark, flashy BMW pulled up along the curb, the smile of a handsome, blond, blue-eyed man with a generous offer of more money than she could make in two months at the diner, money toward the education and freedom she wanted. She had climbed in, telling herself over and over, You can do this. He was a damn good-looking guy, and he appeared charming enough. It will be a breeze.

  How wrong she had been; the reality of her decision had been more than she could handle.

  Chapter Three

  “Ma petite?” Ethan turned. Those succulent, bewitching fingers had stopped moving. The fire in his blood was raging. If he hadn’t been gripping the railing so tightly, he would have ripped o
ff the last of her garments and buried himself inside her; he longed to do it. His thin measure of control slipped with every slick glide of her hand on his skin.

  She was pure pleasure, and she was all his, even if she did not realize it yet. He could not, would not, stop his blatant possession of her.

  Everything about this woman called to his very soul. He had to keep her.

  Slumped against the wall, her eyes held a glazed, faraway expression. What was running through that pretty head of hers?

  “He took me to a flashy uptown building and gave me money up front.” A frown creased her brow. “Then he took me down some stairs; oh, God, I think he was going to kill me.” Her head tilted back as she raised her eyes to meet his; she had beautiful flecks of gold in her hazel eyes. Yet he could also see the shame and fear haunting her. He could feel her lush, little body trembling.

  Ethan drew her into his arms, the water falling over them hot and soothing. He wanted to erase her fears. He smoothed down her wet hair.

  “I don’t remember what happened after that.”

  Ethan would not lie to her. He had seen enough lies and deceit in his very long history to know how it distorted and destroyed. He owed this woman his honesty. “I awoke with you in my arms, Aria. He brought you to me, but, instead, you saved me, and I am going to keep you.”

  Her brow creased in confusion. “What are you talking about? How did I save you?”

  “He brought you to me to kill, ma petite; he thought you were nothing but my next meal. Your blood brought me back to life. You have very special, precious blood. Please understand I would never harm you, Aria, never. I have been in a nightmare for over two hundred years, imprisoned, nothing but a mindless killer, until you, my lovely, sweet Aria Nova Tempest.”

  “You’re two hundred years old?” She gasped in surprise.

  “Non, ma petite, I am much older. I have been imprisoned for over two hundred years.”