He broke the kiss and rested his forehead against Sasha’s. “You have no idea how much I want you,” he murmured.
“I think I do.” She rubbed herself against his hard length.
He smiled. “Good. But first . . . ” Derek released his hold and all but ran to the door. With a twist, he put the lock in place. “I don’t want to take any chances that one of your protectors might decide to do some protecting.”
“I’ve been stuck in this room for most of the day. The only time anyone has entered the room has been to bring me food and now you. I don’t imagine they’ll bother me too much.”
He sauntered over to her and laid a hand on her hip, the silky fabric of her robe causing his hand to slip and land on the top of her ass. “Well, this way we have assurance that they can’t get in.”
He tugged her closer, wanting nothing more than to strip off her robe and take Sasha against the door. But he had more finesse than that.
“What do you plan to do, Derek Arthur? Ravish me?”
He nuzzled her neck gently. “Make you forget.”
“Forget what?”
He pulled back, his hands framing her face. “Everything.”
He captured her lips in an openmouthed kiss. His tongue slipped between her luscious red lips. Her moan sounded deep and low, and he suspected he could get drunk on the sound. He wanted to hear it over and over, but not standing up. He intended to worship every inch of Sasha and savor every second—on the king-sized bed behind her.
Keeping his lips fused to hers, he bent his knees and adjusted his hold to scoop her up. He laid her gently on the comforter. The last thing he wanted to do was relinquish her, but he had to divest himself of his clothes, and to do that quickly, he needed both hands. While Sasha threw the comforter back, he dispensed of his shoes and socks. His hand went to his belt buckle, but Sasha’s hand closed over it, halting his motion.
“You don’t get to have all the fun.”
His eyes drifted shut as her hand smoothed down the hard ridge of his erection. His breath hissed out of him as she slowly unbuckled his belt and pulled the leather so it slithered through the belt loops. Her fingers were on the button of his trousers, undoing it and pulling down his zipper before he had a chance to say a word. The black pants he wore floated to the ground.
“Now that’s better.”
Derek opened his eyes. Sasha was kneeling on the bed, her mouth in line with the tip of his cock. What would it feel like to have her ruby-red lips close over his aching tip? His flesh bucked against his cotton boxer briefs.
She cupped his ass with one hand, her fingers digging into his firm muscle. He thrust forward, and her husky laugh did nothing to quell the urgency building through him. His whole body tingled, and the sensation didn’t come from the burst of the energy he was learning to control. No, this tingling was all for Sasha and the hunger of sliding into her warmth and claiming her for himself.
He hooked his fingers into his boxers and pulled down the fabric, his cock springing toward Sasha. This time he moaned deeply as her hand closed around his hard shaft, stroking delicately up and down, applying just the right amount of pressure. Her skin felt unbelievably soft.
“Sasha.” The word was wrenched out of him as her lips closed around him and he succumbed to the warmth of her mouth. Her tongue swirled his head while her hand kept up the stroking motion. His hips moved forward with every up stroke of her hand. If he wasn’t careful, he was going to lose it. While the thought was tempting, coming in her mouth wasn’t how he wanted their first time to end.
Gently grasping her chin, he applied a little pressure. She stopped and lifted her eyes to his.
“Later.”
She released him with a pop and wiggled back onto the bed until she rested against the pillows, the movement causing her robe to bunch up higher on her thighs and to gape, giving him a glimpse of her generous breasts. Derek crawled up onto the bed. Propped up on one elbow, he ran his hand down the inviting gap of her robe. Her muscles jerked beneath his fingers as he made his way down to the knot. In a matter of seconds, he had the knot undone. Yet he didn’t pull the fabric apart so he could drink his fill of what lay hidden beneath the silky yellow fabric. Once again, transferring his gaze from the sight of her translucent pale skin to her gorgeous grey eyes, he asked the silent question.
Are you sure?
Sasha sat up, whipped off the robe, and threw it to the ground.
“You are so beautiful,” he whispered as he leaned over and placed soft kisses on each of her breasts, the dusky pink areolas pebbling to points at his small caress. His hand followed the dip of her belly, through the neatly trimmed curls, till he found her slick warmth. Her back arched, inviting him to take one of her breasts in his mouth. His teeth grazed her rose-colored nipple as his hand stroked her clit. His slipped one finger inside her, then two, and began a slow in and out motion, while he sampled her other breast.
Her hips rose to meet him. Soft moans sounded around the room. Derek increased the pace, and her gasps of pleasure matched the motion. He released her breast and moved his lips to settle on the sensitive place between her ear and neck, the skin sweet and tender under his mouth. Using a little bit of his power, he added a zing of electricity to his fingers, touching her clit at the same time. A second later her flesh clamped around him and she cried out in release. He extracted his fingers but kept his hand there, pressing slightly against her still pulsing flesh.
“So that’s what your electricity feels like. I’d wondered. I hope you have condoms,” she panted as her hands closed around his wrist.
He grinned. “Of course.” With a last kiss to her neck, he rose up and off the bed. He reached down for his trousers and grabbed his wallet. He pulled out the condom, tore open the packet, and rolled the latex down his burning flesh.
The moment he entered her he could lose all control. His need for Sasha was stronger than anything he’d ever felt. A compulsion. A soul-deep longing.
A delicate hand closed over his protected dick, her fingers tip-toeing up his long length. Again, a moan escaped from him and drove him into action. Derek positioned himself over her, his straining erection at her entrance.
He rested on one elbow and cupped her cheek again, giving her a slow, evocative kiss, his tongue sliding in and out, showing her exactly what he planned to do to her.
He released her lips as he flexed his hips to slide into her. Taking his time, he savored the way her inner muscles flexed around his hard flesh. He pulled out and entered her again, this time going a bit farther. Her hands landed on his ass as he moved to pull out again.
“I swear if you take your time again, I’m going to kick you out of my bed.”
Derek laughed, lifting his hips until only his tip rested at her entrance. “In a hurry, princess?”
Sasha growled and reached up to bite his lip. He surged inside her, penetrating her until he was balls deep. A gasp escaped her, and her head flung back, any attempt to bite him again thwarted.
“God, you feel so damn incredible.”
He started moving with purpose. Sasha met every thrust by raising her hips. His balls tightened; his climax wasn’t too far away. Only a prick would strand his lady. Derek lowered his head and sucked on her nipple.
Her legs tightened around his thighs and her flesh pulsed around him.
“Derrrrek,” she moaned out loud.
This was a sound he wanted to hear for all eternity. Two final thrusts and he was calling out Sasha’s name as he poured into her.
Suddenly, in the middle of gut-wrenching pleasure, a sharp pain pierced his brain. He braced himself from collapsing on top of Sasha. He rolled to the side and closed his eyes. Myriad images bombarded his mind, and along with the pictures, emotions flooded his system.
Grasping the hilt of a sword and pulling it out of a stone. Surrounded by the men he knew in this time as seven little people, except they were full size. Watching as Galahad created a fire in the palm of his hand. Holding his hand up and throwing a
n invisible force their way, knocking them down before swinging Excalibur to finish them off.
His heart clenched at seeing his wife, Guinevere, in the arms of another man. Betrayal flayed him as he stared at Lancelot’s defiant face. And, through all of it, Sasha. His oldest and dearest friend, true to the last. How had he not known then? She was his soul mate. And he’d fucked everything up.
Then the wicked eyes of the woman who whispered her curse—words that made no sense—before sliding his own sword between his ribs. Red-hot pain pierced his body as if he were dying all over again.
Derek sat up and clutched his head as more and more and more memories flew into his mind. Memories of times long ago. Lives lived in era after era, and in every one, again, Sasha was there, looking like she did now, ageless, only her hairstyles and clothing changed with the times.
Sasha dressed in a ball gown of Regency time, standing across from him in a large ballroom, laughing with a smartly attired man. In a smoky nightclub dressed in a silvery flapper dress, while he served drinks to waiting customers from behind the bar. Sasha attired in a nurse’s uniform tending to an injured soldier, while he sat on the next bed getting his arm stitched. Always within reach, but he never truly saw her, until now that he knew what he was looking for.
He could never touch her until now, this lifetime.
In each flash of memory, he saw his own death. So many times. Each ending at the same age. Thirty. The age he’d been when Morgan uttered her curse. Did that mean he had only two more years to live?
“Are you okay?” Sasha’s hand jolted him from his agony, from the flood of memories of who he was, had been, and would always be.
I am Arthur.
How could he tell Sasha? What would she say if he told her he’d lived his life over forty-nine times and he was closing in on the end of life number fifty? And she’d been there in every single incarnation—his once darling friend whom he’d never recognized as the love of his life?
Beautiful, but untouchable. Close, but too far away.
He clenched shaking fists as panic slammed through him. No way could he tell her. He had to get away. His flight instinct taking over from fight.
“I’m fine. I need the bathroom.”
Derek thrust the covers back, ignoring her gasp. He stumbled toward a door he hoped was the room he needed. He’d be fucked if it was a closet. Lightheadedness worked its way up his spine, the threat of his passing out very real.
It took him two goes to grab the door handle. He twisted it and all but fell into the room.
Marble floors and counters with gold and black flecks barely registered. Derek grabbed the sink as though it were a lifeline. His hand shook as he turned on the tap and scooped up the cool water to splash his face, repeating the action until he felt some semblance of control. Disposing of the condom, he doused his face in water again.
Lifting his head, he studied his reflection in the mirror. “I am King Arthur,” he said aloud this time.
The words echoed around the room. Somehow, some way, he truly was the King of Camelot, leader of the Knights of the Round Table. These weren’t just memories or visions; they were who he was, part of him as a modern-day warrior. No wonder he had such a strong reaction to seeing that table. The way he constantly wanted to lead the men currently residing in this house.
“Holy shit, I am King Arthur.”
Instead of panic, a rightness descended over him, as though the truth, so long hidden from him, making him restless in each and every life, had settled into his soul.
He had to tell Sasha. His soul mate. They’d finally found each other. But too late again? Only two more years before he hit thirty. He never made it past thirty. Derek swallowed, cold resolve welling up inside him. He’d live longer than two more years. He’d make damn sure of it.
Meanwhile, perhaps Sasha could explain the other images he’d seen, his other lives. Especially the snippet where she tended the soldier while he hovered nearby.
Derek went to stand. He needed to return to the woman. But his action jerked to a halt.
What the fuck?
He couldn’t lift his hands away from the sides of the marble sink. He couldn’t pull his foot back. He tugged, but his hands weren’t moving. He glanced down and bit back another curse. His hands were buried in the marble, as though the solid rock had melted, then set over his hands.
“Derek Arthur, or should I say King Arthur, look at me. Look at the mirror,” a soft feminine voice echoed around the room.
He knew that voice—the witch. He fought the compulsion to follow the command. He tried to close his eyes, turn his head, but he had no control over normal bodily functions.
“Look at me, Derek Arthur. Look in the mirror.” He couldn’t fight the compulsion.
“You,” he gasped.
The mirror didn’t show his reflection. Instead he saw a woman looking back at him, her long, dark hair intricately arranged atop her head, an evil smile tugging at her lips.
The woman who had whispered the curse. The woman who killed him when he was King Arthur. The woman he knew as Morgan Le Fay. His sister. How could she have betrayed him? Killed him? “I demand you release me, sister.”
“You don’t control me, brother. You never have. Look into my eyes and listen to my words.”
“No.” Once again he fought to deny her wish. Once again he failed. He couldn’t move his head. Couldn’t break the hold she had over him.
Bitch.
His eyes locked onto Morgan’s, hers a deep, soulless black. The room faded around him, replaced by blackness. All rational thought left his brain.
“Listen to me, Derek Arthur, and listen well. Snow White is not your fated love. She is your enemy. Guinevere is your fated. You knew this to be true in Camelot. You hold the power to show Snow White’s true colors to all those around you. The ring in your possession will free you from the spell she has placed over you. Place the ring on her finger and you will be victorious. Place the ring on her finger, my brother. Say the following: Eternal love denied. Eternal rest realized.”
“Yes, my queen. I will do as you command.”
“Very good. Now go. I free you, and once you complete your task, you will have no memory of our encounter.”
Derek’s eyes sprung open at the knock on the door. Sasha’s voice filtered through the wood. “Is everything okay, Derek?”
“Yes, I’ll be right out. Go back to bed.”
How could he have been so blind? The concern in her voice sounded like fingernails down a chalkboard. She’d cast a spell over him the first time they’d met, tricking him into believing she was a victim. Now he’d broken the hold she had over him and could see her for who she truly was. He wasn’t going to waste another second of his life on her.
Derek formed an electric ball in his hand, the buzz of the white light pulsing through him. All he had to do was jam it into her chest and it would all be over. The ring, Derek. The ring.
“Yes, the ring,” he responded to the voice in his head and absorbed the ball he’d created. He could save that for later. After washing his hands, he returned to the bedroom, ignoring Sasha, who’d wrapped herself in her yellow robe. His focus was on his pants lying in a crumpled heap on the ground.
“Derek? Derek? What’s wrong?” Sasha’s hand landed on his back. It took everything in him not to shake it off. She mustn’t know how disgusting her touch was to him.
“I’m fine. Nothing’s wrong.” He reached into his pocket, his fingers closing around the small object in there. “I’ve got something for you.”
He held up the ring.
“Oh my ring, you got it. Thank you.” She clasped her hands against her chest.
“Hold out your hand.”
Again, that so obviously fake smile, now that he knew her for the liar she was, flashed as she lifted her hand toward him.
He took a deep breath and slipped the cool metal onto her finger. “Eternal love denied. Eternal rest realized.”
“What?”
His vision blurred. White spots danced across his eyes, just before blackness consumed him.
Chapter 16
Sasha could see nothing but darkness, but she could hear just fine. Or, at least, she thought so. The room had fallen strangely silent. Her body, meanwhile, appeared to be trapped in some kind of horrible paralysis. The moment Derek had spoken those words, she’d fallen to the ground, the sensation akin to passing out, except she was perfectly aware of her surroundings.
Panic made her heart thunder, the pounding loud in her own head, but she tried to calm herself, panic never solved a damn thing. But she failed. The panic was real.
“Derek,” she tried to call out. Nothing happened.
Oh. God.
Her mouth wasn’t working. She tried again.
“Derek.”
Not even a squeak of sound.
She tried to yell his name. Nothing broke the odd stillness in the room. What was he doing anyway, standing over her body with a knife or something equally creepy? What was he doing? And why couldn’t she move?
She tried to suck in a breath, but nothing happened. Holy shit. Am I even breathing? She honestly couldn’t tell. But she didn’t feel faint. Her lungs didn’t scream for air. What was happening to her? Am I dead?
If her body had been working properly, she knew she would’ve started shaking as fear gripped every cell of her body.
Was she even still in her room? What had happened to her?
Help! she screamed in her mind, blindly reaching for anything, anyone.
No answer.
Her body was paralyzed. Her senses cut off. She had no way to figure out where she was. No one was nearby that she could find to help.
Okay. Time to panic.
She screamed again. And again. And again.
She had no idea how long she lay there screaming in her mind, when two sounds simultaneously interrupted her full-blown terror.
A low groan came from her right, and someone gave a brief rap on a door.
“Sasha?” Derek’s slurred voice sounded close to her ear. “Sasha?” The slur left his voice, replaced by a sharp fear.
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