by Jane Cousins
“Um, where are we?” It was a stupid question, instead of a wall in front of her there was nothing but glass. They were on a hilltop, surrounded by other hilltops all dotted with rows upon rows of grape vines. Darcy took two steps forward, resting her hands on the back of the nearest sofa. Now she could see down into the valley below and the vineyard she was familiar with. “Or, should I ask, what is this place?”
Declan headed towards the kitchen, pausing only momentarily to hit a couple of buttons on a panel located on the wall. Ceiling fans overhead began to whir softly and the large wall of glass slowly began to fold back. A refreshing afternoon breeze wafted in gently and Darcy wasn’t surprised to find when she glanced over Declan’s way that his t-shirt and his hair were already dry as a particularly playful gust of air swirled and teased him.
“Welcome to my castle.”
“Your castle?” Why had she never spied this place before? They’d had plenty of family parties and celebrations at the Benavidez Vineyards over the years. But she’d never set eyes on this luxe little hilltop hideaway.
Declan chuffed a laugh. “That’s what my Dads called it when they first built it. Though back then it was little more than a couple of old packing crates and boxes hammered together.”
“This is where you hid when we came over, isn’t it? When you were younger.”
“Yes. I used to sit up here with a plate of smuggled food and watch everyone through my telescope.” Declan gestured at a high powered telescope standing over near a bookcase. “There’s a look away spell around this place, so… I was safe.” Declan was surprised at how well Darcy was taking their little detour. He’d expected her to baulk at being here and insist they head straight to her office. Instead she appeared to be taking their little pit-stop in stride.
“So… you’ve definitely upgraded since a few packing crates and boxes.” Darcy prowled the room, noting the names of the titles in the bookshelf, she had read more than a few of them. The artwork was tasteful, black and white pictures of the vineyard through the years. Men working in the fields. Harvesting the grapes. A larger shot of Declan’s two adopted fathers standing under the Benavidez Wineries sign. Glasses held high in a toast, their arms around one another, smiling broadly, happy. It was a beautiful shot.
“Here.” Declan walked back into the living room, handing Darcy a glass of white wine. “Papa’s famous Pinot Gris.”
“Is this you making your big move?”
“Excuse me?” Declan backed away from her to sit on the arm of one of the sofas.
“You bring me here, this place practically screams secluded little love nest and now you’re plying me with wine. You thinking to finish what you started last night? Because, if so, you need to have a big re-think. Thanks, but no thanks.”
Damn, and now she’d opened that can of worms, what was wrong with her? Problem was, she’d been dwelling on it relentlessly, what did Declan want from her? He’d stepped over the teasing line, blowing it to smithereens last night, and now he was trying to what… fuck her? Why?
Her job, their shared family, his job – it all screamed complications.
If Declan just wanted to get his rocks off there was quite literally a line, a long, long line of women who would eagerly be his fuck bunny. Why her? And why did she feel impelled to push for some sort of explanation from him? Why had she brought up the topic? Why did she care?
Declan threw back his head and laughed, looked at Darcy and then laughed some more.
Okay, she’d forgotten how infuriating the man could be. Never reacting like she thought he was going to. He really was a special kind of snowflake, would she ever understand him and his weird games? “What’s so funny?”
“What I started last night? I think you mean what we started last night. You weren’t exactly protesting. And things could have gone much further than they did.”
“I was handcuffed and incapacitated. Hardly in a position to protest.”
“I understand the word, no, Darcy. And you didn’t use it, not once. Are you seriously trying to tell me you hated everything I did to you last night? Because you sure didn’t act like you disliked it.” Declan leaned over an undid the snaps on one boot, then the other. “If you believe that, then you’re lying to yourself.” He toed both boots off.
Darcy’s attention flicked downwards as he discarded his socks. “What are you doing?”
“And to answer your earlier question, why did I bring you here? First, to give both of us a break from the Pagan Priestess surveillance teams.” He stood up, one handed he pulled off his t-shirt, never spilling a drop of wine.
“If you think…” He was getting naked? Eye contact, maintain eye contact… yeah, because staring into those dark violet orbs wasn’t unsettling at all. Better than drooling over all that perfect hard flesh though.
“And secondly, you hurt, from the tips of your toes to the ends of your hair. You’re shuffling around like a little old lady, and it’s painful to watch.” Declan reached down and began to unbutton the fly of his jeans.
“I’m not having sex with you.” Did that clearly flustered tone really belong to her?
Damn, she was a piece of work. Declan chuffed a laugh, shaking his head as he pushed down his jeans and kicked them away, standing before Darcy wearing nothing but dark grey jockey shorts that hugged his butt. “I’ll be in the hot tub when you are ready to join me. Nothing helps sore muscles more effectively than warm water and some massage jets.” He picked up the bottle of wine and walked past Darcy, stepping out on to the wide deck located at the front of the cabin, disappearing from view.
Declan had brought her here to soak in his hot tub because he knew she was in pain?
Damn, didn’t she feel stupid. Jumping the gun. Thinking he had more of an agenda. Of course he’d had to prove last night that he could have any woman he wanted. That was encoded in his DNA. But they’d played his game, he’d clearly won. But he’d walked away, allowing her to keep her dignity. So they could return to their normal, casual – nothing to see here – barely call it a friendship.
“Oh.” Declan popped back into view, double dimples dazzling her, bare chest all but blinding her. “And about the sex? You’re wrong.”
Shit, she knew she was wrong. The infuriating man didn’t have to put it into words just to prove what a swordsman he was. And that sharp piercing jab she felt was not her ego being pricked, she was just pissed off that he couldn’t let her hang onto a last shred of pride. Yes, yes, he was irresistible, even without a Love God in the driver’s seat. No woman, even Darcy, was capable of saying no to him. Thank Goddess, the man never boasted of his conquests.
“I don’t just want sex from you Darcy Montgomery, I want it all.”
Darcy’s mouth dropped open in shock. Luckily, Declan had disappeared once more.
All? What all? Her bank account details? Access to her wardrobe? What the fuck did he mean by all? That’s it, she was upgrading him from infuriating to… to… disturbing.
Disturbing? What? Was Declan getting to her? Unbalancing her? Even with all her skills she couldn’t predict where he was coming from and what he would say or do next… it was… crap, there was no other word for it… disturbing.
And just what did he mean by… all? She’d stamp her foot, but every muscle in her body throbbed in time with her heartbeat. Crap, what she really needed was a long soak in a hot tub. And once she was feeling better, she’d start by beating some answers out of the most… disturbing man she’d ever matched wits with. And why did she find the idea of that so damn exciting?
Honestly, she barely recognised herself anymore. One gorgeous man bats his violet eyes her way, goes to third base with her and says stupid things like wanting it all from her, and she practically rolls over and begs him to rub her belly, or touch her any damn where else he wanted.
Shit, shit, she hated this, being confused, off balance. Turning, Darcy began to hobble outside, the only thing she could take comfort in was reciting the number of annual hot tu
b fatalities over and over in her head. Declan better watch out, they were surprisingly high… it was something at least.
Chapter Fifteen
Declan sipped some wine, studiously keeping his gaze focused down into the valley, at the sprawling house he’d grown up in. As the sun began to descend in the sky, he could imagine his Dad was finishing up in his drafting room. And any moment now Papa would exit the winery offices and start making his way around the tree lined path to the main part of the house.
They’d probably end up crossing paths in the kitchen. Papa would open a wine. Dad would open a beer and then they’d sit on the veranda, looking out over the vines, talking about their day, swapping stories, laughing… happy, together.
That’s what he wanted with Darcy, that closeness. But in order to get it, he was going to have go the scenic route. If he came at her too directly, she’d smack him down out of sheer habit. No, what he needed to do was be patient, while somehow managing to exploit every available opportunity to show her how good they could be together. Not just a physical match but on every level.
Yeah, quite the balancing act.
As he’d told Darcy, this wasn’t just about sex. He did want it all. Wanted access to every part of her life. Her thoughts, her plans, her future. He wanted to share her worries. Soothe away her pain. Talk about their day, swap inane stories, laugh and be happy. And okay, yes, he wanted to spend days, weeks, months, making love to the woman. He had big, big plans for that gift wrapping room of hers… huh, the gift that would keep on giving.
He was smart enough not to pay any attention to Darcy when she walked outside. Biting down on the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing. She was the only woman alive who was capable of shuffling, slightly hunched over, in obvious pain, but somehow turn that weird gait into a snarling thundercloud of attitude.
A storm was headed his way. Thank the Goddess. She hadn’t run… or in her current physical state, hobbled away.
Declan sipped more wine. Look at the vines. Look at the pretty rosebushes at the end of each row, helping to cut down on invasive pests. Look at the sun, sinking towards the horizon.
Do not look at the growing pile of clothes and weapons. Discarded plaid mini skirt, laser whip, throwing stars, top, boots, knives, handcuffs, taser and lastly be-ribboned stockings.
He shifted over slightly as Darcy eased down into the warm, but not hot, bubbling water. A glimpse of pale blue lace knickers and matching bra then she was beneath the water, sitting on the ledge opposite him. So it was officially confirmed, she did match her underwear to her boots, damn, Declan could have lived without that knowledge. Thank heavens, for all the obscuring bubbles.
Declan could feel her icy blue gaze settle on him with an all but audible thud. Ready to hand him a verbal or maybe even a physical smack-down if he stepped one inch over the barriers she’d slammed into place. Declan wasn’t stupid, he kept on looking down into the valley. Minutes past by, he sensed Darcy begin to relax. The warm water soothing, the jets gently massaging and loosening all her poor abused muscles.
Darcy stared at Declan, waiting. Just waiting for him to open his big fat mouth and piss her off. Yet all she heard was the occasional tweet of a bird, the breeze rustling through the greenery planted around the tub and blissful… blissful silence.
She sipped some of her wine and allowed her shoulders to relax, sinking a couple of inches lower into the water. The silence and the peace and quiet continued. Which was fantastic, great, really good, all that Goddess darn serenity.
The problem was, Darcy wasn’t a sit still and relax kind of woman. Oh sure, she could if she had to, but usually there was a bunch of burly orderlies or police officers holding her down at the time so that Nell could deal with her injuries. Or her mother was present, sending a blue eyed glare her way, promising all kinds of retribution if she didn’t sit still for just five damn minutes and listen to Boyd’s piano recital or Simon’s graduation speech.
With her powers, the way they worked, they never switched off, the angles, the threads, the web… every second Darcy was assessing connections, cataloguing threats, compartmentalising and prioritising problems and potential issues. Sometimes it was exhausting being her. Most of the time though, she revelled in it.
Sitting here, she had expected Declan would have opened his mouth by now, providing her with an easy target. If she couldn’t deal with any of the annoying problems weighing down her plate, the least the gorgeous… disturbing man could do was let her chew him out and release some steam. And by chewing, she meant a blistering verbal listing of all his faults… not biting into his actual flesh.
Hmmm, and why did the idea of leaving a bite mark on his perfect butt cheek sound kind of appealing? It was ridiculous, who knows what cooties she would catch, given his torrid exhausting romantic history. But still, that idea of branding him… marking him… shit, she was off balance.
Think about something else, anything else. She had a wide variety of things on her to-do list, too many things in fact, none of which she had enough information on to form cogent and speedy resolutions.
Darcy didn’t like not having a plan. Didn’t like not having all the information. Didn’t like the fact that she couldn’t seem to predict what Declan would do or say next.
Declan reached over to re-fill Darcy’s glass. Then leant back once more against the smooth blue slate tile. Any moment now she was going to explode, he could tell. She’d been sitting still for more than twenty minutes, which just goes to show how bad she must have been feeling, her ice blue gaze growing narrower and narrower, her jaw working hard as she ground her teeth together.
Yeah, any moment now Darcy was going to demand some answers from him or make some dire threats to get him to back off. And he was going to have to play it smart, charming and sneaky.
“My mother is going to kill me.”
Okay, as non sequiturs went, that was a doozy. Declan needed way more information about where Darcy was coming from. She couldn’t mean them being together, could she? Sarah Montgomery liked him. “Oh…?” He settled for a vague, barely interested sound, luring Darcy out. Trying to coax her to reveal more.
“Drum’s already… sensitive… he’ll blow a fuse.”
Declan was still at sea but decided to commit to a slightly firmer tone. “A-huh.” Agreeing… sort of, but to what he wasn’t sure.
“Nell will be fine… probably. At heart she’s a scientist and it’s not like they are defective or anything… If it had just been one of them, I could have written it off as an anomaly, you know? But both of them? But, then again… given her condition, Nell might lose all perspective.”
“Sure.” Say what now? Okay, Declan needed to untangle this conversation and fast. Sarah Montgomery was going to be angry with Darcy… if she upset Drum. A man not easily rattled. Oh, shit, the only thing the man mountain was sensitive about was Nell’s pregnancy. And Darcy had said both of them… two… two… fuck. “You seriously think there is something wrong with Asher and Theo?”
“Wrong is a strong word, don’t you think?” Darcy took another sip of wine.
Declan forced himself not to shout. Damn, he loved the woman but she was infuriating. She tended to forget that she could make leaps and connections that others had a hard time keeping up with. But, he’d had years of studying Darcy, he knew just how to handle her. “Then what word would you use?”
Darcy shrugged. “Normal, well, for around here anyway. But being born with their magic, that puts them thirteen… fourteen years ahead of the curve.”
“They’re just little logs at the moment who poop a lot, how can you be sure they’ve come into their magic?”
“Theo was lying on a prickly layer of cacti, matching his body shape exactly, happy as larry. And Asher? He tried to fake me out.”
“Asher? The two month old tried to fake you out?”
“He was pretending to nap.”
“You sure he wasn’t actually napping?”
Darcy shook her head, t
he tips of her midnight dark hair brushing her flushed cheeks. “I know when I’m being played, Declan.” She sent him a hard look.
“Do you think they know, the parents?”
“Gaia, absolutely. She’s washing those French linens so often they’re all but threadbare. She’s probably in denial though, knowing Gaia. And, as for Hadleigh and Vaughn? They’re not exactly experienced parents, and I’m sure Asher feels secure in their company and dials down the alert factor. I’m guessing there will be more and more obvious signs of what he is capable of as he gets older.”
“Shit.”
“Which brings us to Nell, and her ball of sunshine, due in five months time.”
“You can’t surmise from the birth of Asher and Theo that all future babies in the Sanctuary are going to be born with their magic.” Declan watched as Darcy sent him a look, raising her eyebrow briefly in haughty derision at his questioning of her skill set. “How are you sure?”
“The increasing grid power fluctuations over the past two years. I’m not a hundred percent sure, and I need to chat with Great-Aunt Rebecca, she knows the grid, but I think their arrival drained off the spikes. You said it yourself, two months ago the Portal incidents basically zeroed.”
“But the grid has levelled out, so future babies will be-”
“Buhay Leeches.” Darcy reminded him of their recent run in.
“Shit, you think the fluctuations are ramping back up again.” Declan nodded slowly. “You’re right, your mother is so going to kill you.”
“Yes, she is.” Darcy took another sip of wine. It was so nice when someone was on the same wavelength as you. So many people were exhausting, with their silly questions, futile whining and inability to cut through all the extraneous matter and get to the core of a problem – how badly Darcy would be affected by any given situation.
Declan knew how Darcy’s mind worked so he wasn’t surprised when she abruptly switched topics.