* * *
Harrison drove in silence, Ilaria beside him, as he headed to Crystal City in the Northern Virginia suburbs, and home. He glanced at her as she looked out the window without seeming to see the sights that must be incredible to her. It was just after dark and the city was fully lit and at its most beautiful, yet her gaze appeared fixed on nothing.
All over again, he was struck by her beauty, her profile at once strong and delicate, those pale curls draping across her shoulders like a living shawl. Her anger at him had dissipated almost as quickly as it had risen. So different from Gwen. His ex-wife had possessed an uncanny ability to nurse a good anger until he thought she’d never let it go.
He grunted. In the end, Gwen hadn’t let it go. She’d divorced him. The divorce had been his fault, he knew that. He’d never been, nor ever cared to be, the devoted, attentive husband she’d hoped for. Sometime between their wedding and Sam’s birth, he’d realized whatever feelings he’d thought he had for her were gone. But he’d made a promise to stand by her and he’d intended to. And, of course, there was his son to consider and, later, his daughter.
The thought of Stephie clenched like a cold vise around his heart.
It wasn’t long after Stephie was born that Gwen had decided she’d had enough. He couldn’t give her what she wanted. He couldn’t give anyone that much of himself. Except maybe his kids.
And now he hardly ever saw them. Especially since the arrival of the Esri.
God, but he hated those bastards. His gaze snapped to the one beside him, but that flare of hatred died as he took in her lovely, pensive face. She seemed sad to him, and for some reason that bothered him. But he thought he understood.
“You’ve traded one prison for another, haven’t you?”
She turned to him, her face lit by the passing headlights, an unspoken question in her eyes.
“You look unhappy,” he said quietly.
Turning back to the front, she tipped her head back against the seat. “I was thinking about my mother. It sounds foolish, but it’s finally hit me that she won’t be there when I return. I knew the moment she died. Three hundred years I’ve known she was gone. But I’ve been gone, too. In a different way, perhaps, but gone all the same.”
“You haven’t been out of that forest since she was killed.”
“No. And in some illogical part of my mind I’ve always imagined she’d be there when I got home. Until tonight.”
“Because the prospect of returning home is no longer a dream.”
“Yes.” She met his gaze again, as if surprised he understood.
Harrison nodded. “You haven’t seen your world since it changed, since she left it. Not until you go back and see it for yourself will you be able to fully accept that she’s gone. We call it closure.”
She blinked rapidly. In the light of a streetlamp, he glimpsed a sheen of tears.
“I’m sorry, Ilaria. This has to be very hard for you.”
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw her stiffen and waited for her pride to reassert itself.
To his surprise, she relaxed against the seat and sighed. “It’s foolish to mourn her. We never got along.”
He snorted softly. “Believe me, it doesn’t matter. Parents are parents. It’s a tie that never completely lets go of you, even when you want it to.”
“I suppose.” She lifted a hand to her forehead. “I’m concerned, too, about the reason King Rith gave my people for imprisoning me in the forest.”
“You don’t know?”
Dropping her hand, she turned her head, a hint of a smile lifting her lips, though no smile reached her eyes. “Unlike you, we have no form of communication except one. The guards were ordered to incarcerate me in the forest and so they did. We never heard from the outside world again.”
He had trouble wrapping his mind around such a concept. Three hundred years.
“Are you afraid your people may have been turned against you?”
“Not turned against me, no. At least I hope not. But I have no illusions but that Rith will do whatever he must to keep his throne. He’s always been an ambitious, power-hungry male without morals. He’ll either try to capture me and send me back to the forest, or try to force someone to kill me as he did my mother. And that’s if he doesn’t get his stones. If he does, if he acquires the ultimate Caller’s power, there will be no laws to contain him. We’ll suffer as badly as you will.”
Harrison’s hand lifted from the steering wheel, as if to reach for her and give her shoulder a gentle squeeze of reassurance, but he forced his grip back on the wheel instead. What was he going to do, tell her everything would all work out in the end? What were the chances?
Instead, they continued through the streets of D.C. in silence.
As they crossed the bridge back into Virginia, Ilaria seemed to once more take an interest in the view outside the car. She leaned forward, looking up with awe as they passed beneath towering office buildings.
“Your world fascinates me.”
“It’s changed in fifteen hundred years.”
“You have no idea.”
“I have some idea. We were mostly goat-herders back then.”
She glanced at him with a small, genuine smile before turning back to the window. “Humans were more than goat-herders. But what you’ve accomplished since is extraordinary. I wish I had time to fully explore the wonders of your world.”
Her words were quietly said, but filled with such depth of longing that something inside him responded. For one inexplicable moment he wanted to be the one to show her, to teach her. He tried to imagine her in a ball cap and jersey cheering beside him at a Redskins game. Or learning to water-ski on the Potomac.
The picture that put in his head, of the Esrian princess in her shimmering green gown on water skis, had him choking on a burst of errant laughter. But she wouldn’t be in a gown, would she? She’d be in a bathing suit. A skimpy, form-hugging scrap of fabric showing far too much pale, perfect skin.
The thought intrigued him more than he would have thought possible. And that just disturbed him.
“Are you laughing?” she asked, her tone incredulous. As if he never laughed.
“No.” But it occurred to him that telling her what had caused his momentary loss of control might make her feel worse than she already did. She might be the enemy, but as hard as he tried, he couldn’t hate her. He couldn’t even dislike her. The woman had more facets than a diamond. In the same breath she could change from a seductive siren to a playful imp, from an imperious royal to a hard-eyed warrior. And through it all, he sensed a disturbing vulnerability. A woman in danger from not one world, but two.
He’d known her how long? A matter of hours, yet he felt as if he’d known her for years. As if on some fundamental level he’d always known her. The woman confused the hell out of him. And not for the first time he wondered if she’d cast some kind of spell over him.
He drove through Crystal City and into the parking garage beneath his condo building, then parked the car and came around to release her. As he opened the door, she looked up at him with eyes as puzzled as he suspected his own were. Was she as confounded by him as he was by her?
The thought did nothing to ease his turbulent mind.
Steeling himself, he bent down to unfasten her seat belt, but her scent ambushed him, sinking into his pores, into his blood. On a primitive level, he felt the pull of her, every cell of his body wanting to move toward her, as if drawn by some invisible force.
He fought his way back into that dark room in his mind, that place of calm and control, clawing his way inside, ignoring the nearly overwhelming desire to touch her. Instead, he unfastened her seat belt, then grabbed the key to her handcuffs out of his pocket and released her before he drew unwanted attention inside. He helped her out of the car, then kept one hand tight around her upper arm as he led her to the elevator.
“You live here?” she asked. “It’s big.”
The elevator arrived, the door
s sliding open. Three people hurried out and he ushered her inside. “I live in one small section of the building, on one of the upper floors. Many people live here.”
Beneath his fingertips he could feel the heat of her skin rising through her sleeve to sink into his flesh. He released her arm and looked up, watching the floor numbers flash as he struggled to ignore her, struggled to find that calm center he’d already lost.
When the elevator stopped, he motioned her out, then led her down the hallway toward his apartment. With every step, every breath, he fought his awareness of her—the way her hair curled around her shoulders and brushed his arm, the way she moved with a fluid grace and royal dignity. The way her sweet, exotic scent wrapped around him in a warm cloud of desire.
He pulled her to a stop before his door and dug out his keys with a hand that was not quite steady as he fought to corral his raging libido. Opening the door, he stood back for her to enter, then flipped on the light switch, lighting his living room.
The condo wasn’t extravagant, though it was by no means small, and he’d furnished it with good, solid furniture and leather upholstery. Three of his walls remained blank but for an uneven coat of beige paint. He kept meaning to buy prints or something, but never got around to it since most of his hours he spent at the office.
The fourth wall was covered with drawings his kids had made for him over the years. And photos of Sam and Stephie—photos he couldn’t look at right now.
Closing the door behind him, he turned back to Ilaria to find her watching him with eyes devoid of seduction or cunning. Eyes that whispered of knowledge and experience he could never hope to understand, and a loneliness he understood all too well. The beauty of her face enchanted him, but it was her eyes that drew him closer, her spirit bright behind the brilliant green. The poets had gotten it wrong all those years ago. Ilaria’s eyes weren’t a window to her soul, but a doorway.
He didn’t want this empathy toward her, this attraction. She was Esri, for heavens sake. But he saw nothing ugly inside her. No evil, no cruelty.
He stared at her, unable to turn away. Without realizing how, he found himself standing a handsbreadth in front of her. The need to touch her overwhelmed him. An ache in his chest caused him to lift his hand. His knuckles stroked her cheek, finding that pale skin every bit as warm and soft as he’d imagined. Even that barest touch sent heat flushing his skin, and need tightening deep inside him.
The need to touch her, to taste her, had grown steadily since the moment he’d first seen her across the hotel room in Reykjavik and wouldn’t be denied a moment longer.
As one, they moved toward one another, two magnets drawn against their will. A heartbeat later, she was in his arms, his mouth covering hers, one hand sliding over her slender back, the other diving into her silken hair, cradling her delicate head as he kissed her. She swamped his senses, her taste like forbidden fruit, her scent like gardenias, the feel of her lips warm, soft and perfect.
Passion exploded, heat and desire raging through his blood. Nothing mattered but touching her, tasting her, getting inside her in some way. His tongue slid along the line of her lips and she opened for him, stroking him as he swept inside. A moan of pleasure cascaded from her throat, and his senses tumbled. She stroked him back, tongue against tongue, her hands curled around his neck, her fingers sliding through his hair.
She was raging passion and infinite sweetness. Need and strength, and tender warmth. And he’d been waiting for her. So long, he’d been waiting.
As he lifted his head to change the angle of the kiss, his eyes drifted open. His gaze tripped over the laughing gap-toothed image of Stephie hanging on the wall behind Ilaria. Stephie in her pink sundress, laughter on her face, love for her daddy dancing in her eyes.
He froze. An Esri had stolen that laughter, yet here he was kissing one. Kissing one.
The realization sliced across his mind, short-circuiting the electricity arcing through his body.
Esri. What in the hell was he thinking? What was he doing? He wrenched back as if she’d burned him.
Ilaria stared at him, her heavy-lidded expression stunned and confused. Her mouth was swollen and damp from his kisses, a perfect rosy pink that had his hands curling around her shoulders, his muscles straining against the nearly overwhelming need to pull her back into his arms.
“What are you doing to me?” In his mind, the words sounded accusatory, but to his ears the question only sounded confused. “You’re enchanting me.”
She shook her head. Her lips parting as if in denial. But even as he watched, they closed softly on a smile. A sad smile. “You don’t want to desire me. But you do.”
And she was right. Exactly right. He was a man who valued control above almost anything, yet within moments of meeting her, she’d begun disassembling every ounce of control he possessed, and he’d yet to build them back. It was all he could do not to pin her to the wall and take everything she offered.
Instead, he grabbed her upper arm more tightly than necessary and steered her toward his bedroom.
“What are you doing?” she demanded softly.
“I need sleep. I’ll give you the bed.”
The melancholy was gone from the emerald depths of her eyes, replaced by a seductive snap. “You’ll share it with me.” It wasn’t a question.
Harrison scowled. He already struggled for control against the sensual tornado that had laid waste to his senses, yet she acted completely composed. Acted… Was it all an act? Was she controlling him?
His fingers spasmed.
He dragged her to his bed and pulled the handcuffs out of his pocket, snapping one around her wrist.
“Harrison.”
“I’m just making sure I can sleep without worrying about getting a knife in the back.”
“You think I mean to stab you?”
“I’m not expecting a literal knife, necessarily. But I don’t trust you. So you’re staying tied. Lie down, Ilaria.”
She made no move to comply, staring at him, her mouth hard. The seductress had fled, the warrior taking her place. “What if Rith tracked us here? What if we’re attacked while you sleep? I’ll have no means of defending myself.”
“I never sleep soundly. If anyone tries to get in, I’ll free you. Now lie down.”
Challenge and anger glittered in her eyes, but she didn’t struggle against his hold as she had in the parking garage. He was both glad and a little disappointed she’d chosen not to fight him again.
“Lie down, Ilaria.”
Those green eyes hardened until they resembled the stone whose color they possessed. For a moment, he thought she intended to call his bluff, which really didn’t bother him at all. Picking her up and depositing her on the bed would be no hardship. Resisting following her down might be another matter.
She stared at him for several more moments, then with a disgusted sigh, lowered herself to the bed and stretched out on her back slowly, regally. With angry eyes, she watched as he lifted her arms above her head, threaded the cuff through two spindles on his headboard, then attached the free cuff to her other wrist.
“You tread dangerously, human.”
Harrison straightened and looked down at her. “I do what I have to, Princess. Now, sleep. Assuming Esri sleep. There’s no telling what tomorrow will bring.”
With effort, he turned away from her, grabbed the extra pillow and a blanket from the closet, and retreated to the living room. He stretched out on the sofa, but sleep was a long time coming. Not only did the passion continue to rage in his blood, but he couldn’t quiet the disturbing thought that her immortal life was in his hands. And, thanks to her and her entire, miserable race, his own life was spinning out of control.
* * *
Ilaria shifted her legs on the bed, restless and bored, unable to roll over or sit up. She could barely move.
Barbarian.
It infuriated her that he treated her with so little respect. With no respect!
And what disturbed her migh
tily in the hours after he left her to find his sleep was that the lingering passion from his kiss still held her tight in its grip. Yes, she’d been encouraging his advances from the moment she first felt the mutual desire between them, but that first brush of his lips against hers had left her stunned. And breathless.
She always enjoyed sex well enough, but she generally avoided kissing for she’d never enjoyed it much at all. But those few moments in Harrison’s arms had been extraordinary, in a way that went beyond the physical. Never before had a mere kiss felt so powerful, so…invasive. As if he’d found the secret door to her private self and stepped inside.
It had been hours since that kiss, yet the memory of it still lingered on her lips and her body continued to ache for the feel of his own hard form pressed against hers. Would his hands be rough or gentle? Would he enter her hard and fast, or long and slow? The questions persisted, her body aching to know.
Shaking her head, she fought to dislodge the sensuous thoughts from her mind, hating for anyone to have this kind of hold on her. Yet she seemed incapable of shutting him out. With a groan, she shifted yet again, trying to force her thoughts on to the far more pressing matter of Rith and how to get those stones before he did.
A crash sounded outside the window on the street far below. The crumpling of metal and the shattering of glass reverberated into the night. Vehicles colliding? The sound echoed… . No, not echoed. Another crash. And another. And another.
Ilaria’s heart began to pound with the certainty something was wrong. Terribly wrong. She struggled against the cuffs that bound her to the bed.
“Human!”
Beneath the crashes another sound, a deep, rumbling whine pierced the night, followed moments later by an explosion that shook the walls and rattled the windows, vibrating through both the building and the bed.
“Harrison!”
He stormed into the room as she yelled his name, his hair sexily rumpled, his face a bitter mask. The key to her handcuffs was already between his fingers.
Warrior Rising (Harlequin Nocturne) Page 6