He was dressed in worn jeans and a black t-shirt, but for some reason the clothes looked all wrong on him. Too normal. Too human. And the faint stain at his crotch, a growing patch of dampness, definitely made her uncomfortable.
“What are you?” The words trembled on her lips.
“Do not be afraid, my goddess,” he soothed.
Her womb positively throbbed with need at the sound of his voice, so low and soft and coaxing.
“I mean you no harm,” he continued. “I am Tryton, of the Shikar Alliance. I swear to you that I shall protect you from the Daemons who hunt you. You have no need to fear anymore.”
“Daemons?”
“The monster you killed is from a race of abominations we call Daemons. We were warned that you were in danger from them and charged with the responsibility of saving you from them—”
“This isn’t happening.” She took deep, panting breaths. Her vision was blurry, her head hurting worse and worse with each pounding beat of her heart.
Instantly he was at her side, stroking his hand over her hair in what he must have thought was a soothing manner.
It wasn’t. Niki shrieked and jerked away from him, relieved when he did not follow. “Don’t touch me!”
“I won’t hurt you, woman.”
She bristled at his show of affronted dignity. How dare he address her as “woman”! She liked “my goddess” better. “Just stay away, alright?”
He nodded his head, eyes solemn. “As you wish.”
“This isn’t a dream,” she blinked, hard.
“No.” His voice was so sexy, she couldn’t think straight. “It isn’t.”
“The plane crashed,” she shuddered. Her stomach roiled as the pain in her head threatened to swallow her skull.
“Yes, but you were not in it at the time. You were taken by the Daemons in mid-flight, an unexpected event. We did not think they would risk so much just to capture you. There were many witnesses to your abduction, an unfortunate circumstance, but not wholly damning for the Alliance. The particulars of the event are already known by your news media, but luckily for us, humans rarely believe such fantastical tales and the story will be glossed over heavily. The secrecy of the Daemons’ existence will be maintained. Few will believe the truth and the people who watched the Daemons take you will eventually tell themselves it was all a bizarre mass hallucination, the result of injuries they might have sustained in the crash. Eventually, they will believe their own lies.”
His words weren’t making much sense to her, though his tone suggested he was trying to calm her. Like that would be possible after the night she’d just had. Oh god! She’d almost forgotten! “Jada is waiting for me at the airport. She’ll be looking for me. I have to go to her before she hears about the crash—”
“You have no more ties to your world or the people in it. You are under our protection now. I cannot allow you to leave. Let this Jada person concern you no more, in time she will be only a dim memory.”
Anger flared and along with it a new wave of pain. “Jada is my daughter, you son of a bitch, and I’m on my way to get her whether you allow it or not!”
But she wasn’t going anywhere and she knew it. Not for the moment at least…
The look of wide-eyed surprise on his face was the last thing she saw before the pain took her in a rush and she fell gasping to the floor.
* * * * *
Tryton tenderly cradled Niki’s head in his lap. He knew he should probably settle her on his bed, where she would be more comfortable when she roused from her faint, but he couldn’t bring himself to move just yet. It was far too sweet to hold her like this as she rested, limp in his embrace.
A daughter? This beautiful, exquisite goddess was a mother? How incredible. While this somewhat complicated his goals of seducing her, it warmed his heart in a totally unexpected, surprisingly tender way.
A child. Could he, the ancient and all-powerful Shikar Elder, actually assume the role of father when the time came?
And he fully intended for that time to come.
He wanted Niki Akitoye. The very second he’d laid eyes on her he’d known that he was forever lost to her and no other. She was sheer perfection in all ways. A woman like no other in all the world. He wanted her sex. Wanted her heart. He wanted her very soul. And to know that she had a child of her womb…it made her all the more ripe, all the more sensual in his eyes. There was nothing sexier than a woman who was also a mother.
And how old was this child? Was she young enough for Tryton to lavish all the best trinkets and affection upon? Or was she older, closer to adulthood, someone to whom Tryton could provide funds for schooling, material adult comforts and the like? Was she as beautiful as her mother—would he have to fend off her overzealous suitors like any good, loving father should? This was such an unexpected blessing—he hardly knew what to think.
He was perhaps getting a little ahead of himself. He knew that. But yet…they had never felt so right, these protective, nurturing instincts swelling within him now, no matter that in this case they were a bit premature. He wanted Niki Akitoye, and nothing less than her all would do. He wanted everything. And if she had children, then he wanted them too and all the responsibilities that came with them.
The soft, thick mass of her black curls felt like warm, living silk in his hands. He couldn’t seem to tear his hands away from it. But it was also a torture. His cock had never been so hard. His body had never been so fevered, so assaulted by pure, scalding hot lust.
He wanted to make love to her. No. He wanted to fuck her. To bury his cock to the heart of her until she screamed her orgasm to the heavens as he brought her over and over again to release. He wanted to go at her for hours, stroking in and out of her wet heat a thousand times before finding his own release. He wanted her limp and nearly unconscious in his arms, completely undone by the pleasure he knew for certain only he could give her.
More than once he’d mated with a human woman until she was senseless, completely mindless for days. And those women had been veritable strangers, pretty faces that meant nothing to him. It would be so different, so much better with Niki, for she had already inspired more feeling in his dead heart than any other before her.
Though he was incapable of love—he’d known this unavoidable truth for eons now—he was not incapable of tender feelings. He felt sure that he could keep Niki happy and well-satisfied in his bed and in his life. She would never want for anything and it wouldn’t matter that he could not truly, fully love her.
He would accept no less than her total surrender and her total happiness.
With a primitive hunger he’d never experienced before, he drank in every nuance of her face and form. She was so close to perfect that it nearly hurt to look upon her. She was quite tall for her sex and for her species. Though he still felt her fragility like a warning in his brain, and though he felt so much like a giant when he stood over her, it turned him on mightily to know that he would be able to take her standing up with only a little effort and adjustment.
The lushness of her curves was incredibly feminine. Large breasts, soft, rounded belly, and wide hips that would cushion even his most powerful thrusts made him think of nothing but sex, sex and more sex. Her skin was so dark as to be completely black—not brown, not beige, but pure ebony darkness that made his mouth water and his fingers itch to touch all the satiny softness of her.
There was ancient beauty and grace in her proud countenance. Her high forehead, stubbornly rounded nose, lush, full lips and almond-shaped eyes blatantly attested to her Nubian heritage. It made him remember long ago days spent in the open, lush greenery of the Nile river valley long before it had all turned to so much dust. Even her scent, spicy and exotic, brought back flashes of memory, of times spent in the villages and temples of the ancient peoples of Egypt.
Her hair fascinated him. His gaze and his need always went back to her hair. It was long and thick and riotously curly. Black as midnight and surprisingly silky, he could n
ot help but wrap its length around and around his wrists, as if to imprison her in the most elemental way possible. He wanted to fist his hands in her hair, hold her head as far back as it would go and sink his cock into the depths of her mouth and throat until she swallowed him whole.
He shifted uncomfortably beneath her. His phallus was so hard, so engorged, that it actually pushed her head up in his lap. He’d orgasmed earlier and the dampness was growing more than a little uncomfortable against his swelling flesh. He needed to control his urges, at least until he knew that this woman and her daughter were safe. He needed to slow down or he would surely devour her whole and scare her to madness in the doing.
But he’d never been so tempted, so close to losing control. Nor had he ever been so close to the edge of sheer, sexual madness. Where was his normal caution? What had happened to his cool, calm, mentor’s exterior?
It had vanished, lost in the glory of her face and form—and all that was left in its wake was hungry, demanding male.
Tryton gritted his teeth against the painful swelling of his cock and rose with her in his arms. Effortlessly bearing her weight, he carried her from the room, on into his sleeping chamber, and laid her down gently upon the massive bed situated in the middle of the room. There was no power in existence that could have prevented him from running his hand down the side of her neck, across her breasts, onto her belly and down one of her long, long legs. He fisted his hand, savoring the feel of her, and turned away.
He needed to get out of these human clothes fast. They were simply not built for the massive endowments of a Shikar male. The jeans bit at him, confining his erection until he felt more pain than arousal. The worn cotton shirt stretched and pulled over his wide chest and arms, no matter how he pulled and tugged at it for more room. It had been so long since he’d worn such human bonds that he had forgotten just how different the human anatomy could be. It had been even longer since he’d felt the stirrings of desire when caught in such confines.
Unbuttoning the clasp of his pants he nearly groaned with relief. His erection sprang free, heavy, long and thick, it bobbed before him. He sighed heavily and wiped at the residue of his release with the hem of his shirt. Clearly, jeans and t-shirts were never meant to house the form of a fully aroused Shikar warrior. He hurried to remove the rest of his soiled garments.
* * * * *
Niki opened her eyes a slit to see what he was up to.
Holy hell…he was up to a lot.
The last lingering traces of her headache swiftly receded in the face of such a surprising—hell, alarming—sight. The man, Tryton, was naked and moving about the room, uncaring or unaware that she had a full view of him in all his natural glory.
Wow.
Niki had never been a shy virgin, not in her whole life, and she was proud of it. She reveled in her sensuality whenever she got the chance, which lately wasn’t quite often enough. She’d had many lovers in her time, men of all races and color. In fact, the father of her child Jada had been a lovely, white-skinned man…unfortunately he’d turned out to be a complete bastard, but still, he’d been beautiful. Incredible in bed, even if he’d been a jerk out of it. Simply put, his body had been amazing—the best ever.
She had never, ever, seen a man quite so amazing as this…Tryton.
God, his dick must be at least a foot long! It was wide, thick and heavy as it bounced up and down with each step he took. No matter how many men she’d found pleasure with, she remembered clearly that none of them had been that well endowed.
Damn, his legs were long. Not only were they long, they were heavy with the same bulging muscle that covered the rest of him. He was completely hairless—maybe he waxed, though he didn’t seem the type to be vain enough for that—except for that glorious length of platinum blond hair that swung freely down to his ass.
And that ass…she licked her lips appreciatively. Toned and firm it was, perfection like nothing she’d ever seen. A runway model, fitness guru, or upscale gigolo would kill for that bum, no question. Her fingers clenched with the need to squeeze those sculpted globes…she remembered a phrase she’d once heard on television and nearly laughed. His ass was so perky you could have bounced a quarter off of it. Whoever had come up with that line must have been imagining this man and no other.
God he was hot.
Not only that, but he’d kissed her, which meant there was no reason why she should just sit here and let all that dark, bronzed, muscled flesh of his go to waste.
She almost called out to him before she remembered. Everything.
“Get dressed, Adonis,” she growled, sitting up in the bed, “and take me to my daughter.”
Chapter Six
Tryton knew the moment she awakened. Knew the second her gaze had locked onto his body—he’d felt it roving all over him like a thousand caresses across his hot, fevered skin.
He’d been looking for a robe to don, something comfortable that might hide his need for her when the others arrived, as he knew they inevitably would. But as soon as he’d felt her gaze eating him up, he’d felt less like protecting her from the sight of him and more like teasing her with the inevitable reality of what would be between them when she finally let him have his way.
It had pleased him mightily to hear the muffled beat of her heart quicken, along with her unsteady breaths. Oh, he definitely had an effect on her, and no matter how hard she might try to hide that from him in the days ahead—she undoubtedly would, she was only human after all—her body could never lie to him. Her body wanted him and it was only a matter of time before her mind would want him too. After that…
She would belong to him. Completely. He would see to it.
Parading in front of her like this was making him even more desperate for her. A mischievous streak he’d not even known he possessed made him reach to palm himself. How would she react if he began to pleasure himself, right here, in front of her? But before he could test it, she spoke, effectively breaking the sinfully erotic spell that had woven about them both.
“Get dressed, Adonis, and take me to my daughter.”
For a moment he doubted his hearing. Had she, a puny human woman, dared to order him about? And in his own domain no less. He, the great and mighty Tryton, The Elder of the Shikar people, followed no orders. He was a law unto himself and had been for thousands upon thousands of years. How dare she presume to take such a tone with him?
Perhaps he had heard her wrong. All the arousal and need had flooded his brain…surely he’d heard wrong.
“I beg your pardon,” he said softly, warningly, knowing she would not be rash or bold enough to command him again.
Her eyes widened. She was no fool, she’d heard the danger lurking beneath his quiet words. He nearly smiled, knowing she would apologize now for her impertinence.
Then she scowled, surprising him yet again. “You heard me. I said get dressed and take me to my daughter.” She folded her arms over her chest and glared at him.
The woman must be daft after her faint. No one had ever dared speak to him thus.
He decided to be gentle with her, at least until she regained her self-control. Moving to a large, ornate wardrobe—intricately carved and decorated by Edge, who was a master craftsman with wood—he flung the doors open and reached for the closest article of clothing within. A soft pair of dark, earthen brown trousers would provide ample room for his endowments. The loose, flowing material might not do much to hide anything, but it would at least be comfortable. And comfort he would need if he was to spend any more time with this she-devil of sensuality.
His chest he left bare, just to spite her.
The front of the trousers laced up with a supple leather tie and he turned to her as he worked the laces over his erection, knowing she watched his every move with more than a little interest. He wanted her to see the effect she had on him now, wanted to perhaps intimidate her as well as titillate. Once the cloth was securely fastened over him, he stroked himself, settling his heavy tumescence with
unnecessary showmanship.
He was more than pleased when he saw the wet tip of her tender, pink tongue dart out over her lips.
He wanted that tongue to dart out over his cock, and vowed to himself that it would happen very, very soon.
They looked at each other, guarded and aroused and not a little agitated.
“Take me to Jada,” she repeated.
“No.” He felt one corner of his mouth tilt up in a half smile.
Her eyes flared upon seeing it. “Yes,” she barked, rising from the bed, volatile in her indignation.
“You will not leave here, you are in far too much danger. I will send someone for her and have her brought here,” he explained patiently.
“Are you stupid, she won’t go anywhere with a stranger! She’s probably already heard about the crash—I need to get to her as soon as possible! Where are we anyway?” She looked about as if the answer lay waiting for her in the impenetrable stone walls. “How long will it take us to get to her?”
Tryton sighed. His desire for her was making him daft. He knew a mother’s love was stronger than any other, and he knew also that the girl Jada must be in as much danger as her mother. If the Daemons got to her first…
He left the room and approached the great fireplace in his meeting chamber. He grabbed a fistful of fl’shan sand from an urn on the mantle and tossed it into the fire, which immediately roared to violent life.
“Come to me, my Travelers,” he murmured in the ancient tongue of his ancestors. The fl’shan sand, an old forgotten magic only just rediscovered, would work as a vehicle in the fire to call out to Grimm and Emily, to grab their attention no matter where they were or what they were doing, and compel them to come at once.
He heard Niki stomp into the room. And felt Grimm appear, silent as the grave, at his side, followed a millisecond later by Emily.
Lord of the Deep Page 5