by Monica Burns
As gently as she could, she cleaned his wounds, removing the dried blood from both legs. The muscles in his legs were whipcord lean, and while his wounds were long cuts, they weren't anywhere as deep as she'd expected them to be. They seemed almost superficial in spots.
Was that Phae's healing touch or had he managed to reserve enough of his ability to deflect the worst of the blows? Her hand touched the inside of his thigh as she wiped away another streak of blood. A low, primitive sound caused her to stiffen. Heat washed over her as she raised her head to see Ares watching her with a mixture of pain and something else in his dark blue gaze. He closed his eyes and released a harsh breath.
"Fotte. And I thought last night was bad." The dry note in his voice eased her fear, but deepened her guilt.
"I need to clean the rest of your cuts," she murmured. "Do you think you can help me get your shirt off?"
"Why, Ms. Zale, are you propositioning me?" His teasing made her whole body go hot as she met his amused, yet exhausted gaze.
"I don't think you're in any condition to do anything except lie here."
"True," he sighed heavily. "I'll take a rain check then."
An electrical spark of anticipation skimmed its way across her skin. Alarmed by the sensation, she ignored his statement. The minute he pushed himself up onto his elbows, she quickly moved to slide her arm behind his back in the form of support. The instant her arm pressed against his shoulders, he drew in a sharp breath. If he hurt like this, either his sister truly hadn't been able to alleviate most of his injuries or they'd been worse than she thought. Guilt slashed at her as she shifted her touch from his back to cradling his neck.
"Damn, I'm so sorry."
"It comes with the territory, Emma," he said without any bitterness.
His complete lack of rancor simply served to increase her guilt. She grimaced as she helped him ease one arm out of the long-sleeved garment. When his other arm was free, she gently pulled the badly torn shirt over his head. The moment she saw his back, she uttered a soft cry of horror.
Phae had clearly not tried to heal these wounds. More than a dozen gashes covered his back from his waist to his shoulders. The length and depth of the cuts made her marvel at his constitution. She'd be unconscious or sobbing with pain from wounds like this.
"That bad, huh," he grunted.
"No. Not really." She forced herself to sound matter-of-fact.
"Emma, we really need to do something about this lying of yours."
There it was again, that light, teasing note that made her go weak at her knees. Not a good thing, but at least he wasn't kissing her. That would be a disaster. Clothed he was dangerous. Naked he was devastating.
"I need to warm up these washcloths. These cuts need to be cleaned to avoid infection."
She took a step away from the bed and his hand snaked out to capture her wrist. With a tug, he pulled her back to him. She stumbled over her feet and landed on the bed next to him. Seated hip to hip with him, she stared into his blue eyes. The emotion blazing there sent her heart slamming into her chest.
"I think I've discovered a remedy for your lying."
"Remedy?" she breathed.
"A kiss for every lie."
"I . . . I . . . don't be ridiculous. Your injuries--"
"I'm hurt, Emma, not at death's door," he murmured with amusement. "Besides, we both know you want to kiss me."
"N . . ." He arched his eyebrows at her and she clenched her jaw at his arrogant statement. Arrogant because he was right. "You're a devious, manipulative man, Ares DeLuca."
"And you're fighting a losing battle," he murmured as he cupped the back of her neck.
The heat of his fingers against her skin sank through her pores until the warmth threaded its way through every inch of her. She gulped at the sensation and braced her hands just below the sutures on his chest. It was the only part of his anatomy that had remained unscathed from his brushes with death in the past twenty-four hours. Was this what his life was like on a regular basis? If it was, she was amazed he'd managed to survive this long. And even if it wasn't the norm, it still made her fear for his safety. An irrational fear that something terrible would happen to him. Lord. She didn't know the man well enough to feel this overwhelming sense of panic when it came to the thought of him dying. She strained against the large hand at the nape of her neck.
"I think you've seen one battle too many," she snapped, alarmed by the emotions crashing through her. "Too many knocks on the head have made you delusional."
Despite his weakened state, he still managed to pull her close enough to brush his lips across hers. It was a light touch, but hot enough to ignite every nerve ending in her body until a blazing heat pulsed through every inch of her. With a heavy sigh, he released her.
"I think you're right. If I start kissing you, I'm not going to be able to finish what I start. But be forewarned, Emma, the time will come when I will."
The flash of emotion in his dark gaze let loose hundreds of butterflies in her stomach. He was serious. The knowledge sent excitement and fear sliding through her. But the devilish smile on his mouth couldn't hide his exhaustion. She shook her head.
"I'm going to warm up these towels." Without waiting for a response, she pulled away from him and headed toward the bathroom.
"I'm not going anywhere," he muttered as he gingerly lay down on his side and closed his eyes. As she headed toward the bathroom, she knew he would be sound asleep when she returned.
Chapter 13
ARES slowly blinked sleep out of his eyes and stared up at the ceiling. Christus. If he kept this up, he wouldn't see his next birthday. He cautiously tested his flexibility by sitting upright. At least he didn't hurt as badly as he'd expected. In fact, he felt a lot better than he should for someone who'd run the gauntlet. He frowned.
Had Atia allowed a healer to relieve him of pain last night? Not likely. But then everything beyond the gauntlet was fuzzy at best. The one constant had been Emma. He'd heard her, felt her touch, smelled that sweet scent of hers throughout the night. The one thing he did remember clearly was her voice ordering him to get up and move.
It had been her voice that had penetrated the haze of pain to make him crawl toward the end of the gauntlet. What was it she'd said? She'd take a sword to him. The smile on his mouth turned to a grimace as he slid out of bed. Damno, but he was sore. At least someone had removed his clothes. There wasn't anything worse than ripping leather off a wound that had already clotted and bonded with the material.
The shadowy memory of Emma cleaning his wounds drifted through his consciousness. He frowned as he tried to recall the moment more clearly. He had a vague sensation of having kissed her, but he wasn't even sure that had happened.
He moved toward the bathroom. A warm shower would make him feel human again. One hand splayed against the partially closed door, he frowned slightly at the humid air hitting him in the face. Before his brain could process the fact that something was off, he pushed the door open.
The only thing he could do was stand there. Emma had just gotten out of the shower. Her body glistened with water droplets as she used a towel to dry her wet hair. Fotte. He was hard in an instant. This wasn't good. No, it was better than good, which confirmed why it was bad. He stretched his neck and swallowed hard as he stared at her sweet curves.
She was like Botticelli's Fortuna. All she needed were angels to dress her. No. He didn't want her dressed. He wanted her to stay just like this until he had spent himself inside her. That pleasurable thought tightened the muscles in his groin. He needed to get the hell out of here before he did something stupid. The blood bond. He needed to remember the blood bond.
Eyes closed, her towel dropped to the floor as she laced her fingers through her damp hair. The action lifted her full breasts, and everything else but the sight of her receded into the background. He was insane not to leave this minute. Even if the blood bond hadn't been an issue, the last thing he needed to do was get involved with her. He clo
sed his eyes briefly. Who was he kidding? He was already involved. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he heard shouts and curses, but he ignored the warnings.
Instead, he used his mind to reach out and cup her, brushing his thumb over one nipple. She immediately stiffened and jerked her head toward the door. Silence hung between them for a long moment before a blush crested over her cheeks.
With a quick movement, she bent to retrieve her towel. In a blink of an eye, he commanded the towel to fly out of her reach. She gasped, but didn't say a word as she slowly straightened and watched him move toward her. All he wanted to do was hold her. Feel her soft, dewy skin against his scarred flesh. Holding her would be enough. He knew it was a lie. When he pulled her into his arms, she shook her head
"You're hurt--"
"I'm fine," he murmured, eagerly welcoming the warmth of her seeping into his aching body.
Just as intoxicating was the scent of her. A fresh citrus aroma filled his nostrils as he dipped his head and brushed his mouth over her damp shoulder. His tongue flicked out to lick a water drop off her skin. It was sweet and warm. He'd never tasted a woman so soft or delectable. She shuddered.
He lifted his head to stare down at her, and he lightly stroked her face. Holding her like this made him realize how easy it would be to lose himself in her. The thought set off another round of alarms in the back of his head. He knew he should listen to the warnings, but something inside wouldn't let him.
"But what if . . ." Her voice trailed away. She averted her gaze and pink flooded her cheeks once more.
Mea Deus, she was beautiful. He captured her hand to kiss her palm, but she winced and jerked her hand away from him. Puzzled, he gently forced her hand faceup. The gash on her palm made him frown.
"Why didn't a healer take care of this?"
"I didn't exactly endear myself to anyone last night," she murmured wryly.
A vague memory of her giving orders as he slipped in and out of consciousness after he'd escaped the gauntlet made him smile. An alieni giving any Sicari an order would definitely cause tempers to flare. The memory of how defiantly she'd faced Maximus last night made him kiss the fingertips of her injured hand. She'd been afraid for him. Fearful enough to put her own life in danger simply to save him. He looked down at the cut on her hand.
"Someone should have healed this for you. Atia or Phae should have seen to it."
"I think they were a lot more worried about you than me."
"If there had been a better way to keep you safe, I would have chosen it," he said with regret as he lightly touched the outer edges of her wound. The memory of her cry of pain followed by anger created a knot in his throat.
"I know." She nodded her head, her damp hair slightly tousled from the way she'd towel-dried it. With a light touch, she carefully examined the cut on his cheek then smiled. "You'd better be careful, though--the last I heard, you were up for this year's knight in shining armor award."
Although her tone was light and teasing, something else laced its way through the words. He recognized it, but he wasn't willing to give it a name. All it did was emphasize the fact that he needed to let her go, while he took a cold shower. Yet he didn't let her go. He couldn't.
"I think I disqualified myself a few minutes ago when I didn't retreat back into the bedroom." He searched her face, hoping she'd help him come to his senses by breaking free of his light hold.
"Do you want to leave?" The soft question pulled a groan from him. She was asking him if he wanted to leave her? Deus, if she knew the power she had over him at this moment, she wouldn't have asked the question.
"No," he rasped. "But I'm thinking it might be the better part of valor to retreat."
She reached out to touch his chest directly below his injured shoulder. The touch made him ache for her. He was right. He needed to get out of here. Now. If he stayed, the consequences--in a move that took his breath away, she leaned forward and feathered a trail of kisses across the breadth of his chest. Tenderly, she caressed his skin, just above the cut Doc had sewn up two nights before. Fotte, she was making it impossible to retreat.
He swallowed hard as her hand slid down his side then across his abdomen to his rock-hard erection, where she lightly scraped her fingernail along the length of him. The action tugged a low growl from him, and she pulled back to look into his eyes. The invitation in her gaze made his muscles contract tight with need.
With his mind, he stroked her breast, teasing her skin with invisible touches. Her gaze locked with his, she inhaled a sharp breath of pleasure from his mental caress. Taking his time, he lowered his head to nibble at the spot where her pulse throbbed wildly against her peach-colored flesh.
"You taste good, dolce mia. Sweet and fresh," he murmured against the side of her throat.
"I want you, Ares."
The quiet declaration made him grow still and he lifted his head to look down at her. If they did this--no, if he did this, she needed to understand what the blood bond meant from this point forward.
"And I want you, cara, but I have to explain about last night."
"It's all right. I understand."
She wrapped her hand around him, and the thunderous beat of his heart echoed in his ears. Deus, he wanted her. Every inch of him craved her. Needed her in the worst way.
"Carissima, I need to . . . Christus . . ." He struggled to breathe as her hand slowly stroked him. If she kept that up, he wouldn't have to worry about sealing the blood bond. "The Sicari blood bond--"
"If you want my forgiveness, you have it."
"Inamorato . . . you have to . . ." He fought desperately to clear his head, but her touch crowded his mind with pleasure and a desire that was escalating out of control. The warmth of her breath brushed against his earlobe as she nipped at it. " Dulcis Mater Dei . . . cara, listen to me."
"I'm listening," she murmured as her thumb rubbed over the top of him. "But you're not making a whole lot of sense."
"That's because you're driving me crazy, carissima . . ." He shuddered beneath her touch. "I can't think straight when I'm around you."
"I like that mix of Latin and Italian you speak. I find it very sexy."
An alluring smile curved her mouth as she looked up at him. Her hand curled around his neck and she gently tugged his head down to hers. The minute her lips slid across the edge of his jaw and down to the base of his throat, he could feel his last bit of control slipping away.
"Deus . . . Emma . . . I need . . ."
Her mouth found his in a whisper-soft kiss that annihilated all rational thought from his head. She tipped her head back slightly and her gaze locked with his. If he hadn't known he was already lost, the desire in her beautiful hazel eyes would simply have confirmed it.
He captured her lips beneath his and teased her mouth open. The taste of her was enough to drive him insane. Crisp and tangy, she filled his mouth with a promise of more pleasure than he'd ever imagined. And ever since the first time he'd set eyes on her, he'd imagined a lot. He just hadn't counted on her getting under his skin this way. His body pressed her back into the wall as he eliminated the space between them. The minute his erection brushed against her sex, he drew in a sharp breath of anticipation. It pulled his body taut with an emotion so powerful, he thought he'd come without even touching her. What kind of a hold did this woman have over him that made his anticipation to possess her so intense?
In a clear expression of her own need, she thrust her hips forward in a silent demand. He answered by sliding his hand over her hip to delve his fingers into her warm, slick folds. A soft mewl sounded in her throat, and he deepened their kiss as he continued to stroke her. She kissed him back with a fervor that sent his pulse skyrocketing.
The woman was heat and sweetness all wrapped up in one soft, feminine body. She wasn't just intoxicating, she took his breath away. Even the way she trembled against him was something to savor. Eager to taste all of her, his mouth caressed her jaw before moving to the side of her neck then downward to a lus
cious breast. The moment he suckled her, a soft cry parted her lips.
It was a sound of keen pleasure and his cock jumped with the need to please her more. A minute later his hunger increased tenfold as her fingers encircled his erection and she slowly stroked him again. Intense and potent, the desire building inside him had become a sharp craving. No woman had ever made him feel like this one did. With a grunt of discomfort, he ignored the fiery protest his injuries made as he cupped her soft derriere and lifted her until he was positioned to slide into her.
She automatically wrapped her legs around his hips, her heels pressing into the hard flesh of his buttocks. It was an erotic sensation. Head thrown back, he looked into her passion-filled face. Desire had turned her eyes a shade of emerald green, and if possible, she was even more beautiful than when he'd first entered the bathroom. It set his heart lurching in his chest. He knew from the beginning she'd be trouble. He just hadn't figured on trouble being this heady.