Brant lifted his head, intending to excuse himself, when the woman in his arms was suddenly yanked away.
“I will remove your pretty blue eyes if you ever think of touching him again!”
Confused and more than a little shocked, Brant stared into the enraged gaze of Syrina.
She stood before him, wearing civilian clothes, her long, white hair tucked beneath a ridiculous-looking cap and jealousy shining from her eyes. She’d never looked more beautiful to Brant than she did in that moment.
With Jill already forgotten as she scampered out the front door, Brant took a step toward Syrina. “What are you doing here? And dressed like nineteen-eighties music video?”
“I came to make sure that you were all right,” she shot back, her eyes shooting daggers at him. “But I can see that you were perfectly fine.”
He took another step toward her, unable to resist the allure that was Syrina. “You’re jealous?”
“I am not jealous!”
Brant knew he should stop antagonizing her, but he couldn’t bring himself to shut his mouth. “Yes, you are. I can feel it. You forget that we share blood.”
The crack of her palm across his face nearly put him on his ass. “How can I forget, when your mere presence is a daily reminder of that fact?”
“Then why did you come?” Brant growled, his cheek throbbing from the sting of her slap.
She opened her mouth to answer, but no words spilled forth. She stared back at him, her eyes confused and obviously afraid. “I wish I had not.”
The sight of her turning to go brought Brant out of his own confusion. He reached out and gripped her by the wrist. “Wait.”
Though she yanked free of his hold, she remained rooted to that spot.
“It’s one of those things!” someone yelled out from the end of the bar.
Brant pushed Syrina toward the door, grabbed her by the hand, and led her across the parking lot.
“Just keep moving,” he demanded, taking her through a side alley. Thankfully his hotel room was only a few blocks away. She would be safe there until he could get her back to Aukrabah.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Syrina rushed along next to Brant, his hand gripping her own in a tight, possessive manner. She didn’t care. All that mattered in that moment was that she’d found him alive and safe, and he was no longer in the arms of the white-haired female.
The jealousy Syrina had felt upon entering that bar had taken her breath and most of her control. The sight of the tiny female in Brant’s arms would forever be burned into Syrina’s memory. She had never wanted to kill anyone as badly as she did that white-haired female.
Why was she experiencing such jealousy? Brant didn’t belong to her. He never would. He was a land walker, one that her father would hunt to the ends of the earth if he had any inkling that Syrina shared Brant’s blood.
They approached a building with a few vehicles parked out front. Brant opened the door, ushered Syrina inside, and retrieved a thin, square card from his pocket without releasing her hand.
There were several doors on either side of the long corridor they’d entered. Brant came to a stop in front of one, placed the square card into a slot until a click sounded, and then opened the door. “Get inside.”
Syrina wanted to resist, but something in his voice made her do as he asked.
He entered right on her heels, pushing the door shut behind him. “You should be safe for now.”
“I am not concerned with my safety,” she stated, pulling her hand free and spinning to face him. “The land walkers do not scare me.”
Brant’s eyes narrowed. “Well, they should. You of all people should know what they’re capable of.”
She did know. She’d almost been raped and killed back in Cuba.
Apparently reading her thoughts, Brant bit out, “And almost killed again on Oz’s yacht.”
“That bullet was not meant for me. You are not above the humans’ wrath either.”
Brant ran a hand through his hair. “You’re right. I was the target on that boat. Oz and I both were. Had they found you on board, you would be in chains right now, enduring the torture of whichever rich asshole was willing to pay the highest price for you.”
“You are drunk,” Syrina accused, noticing his unsteady gait.
Brant moved to a small refrigerator and snagged a small glass bottle. “Not drunk enough, apparently.”
“What does that mean?”
“Nothing.” He opened the top and brought the bottle to his lips.
Syrina took a seat on the edge of the bed. “How are your ribs?”
Brant finished off the bottle and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “If you’re asking me if they hurt, not at the moment. I’m feeling no pain right now.”
Syrina remained on the side of that bed, watching as Brant paced the room in front of her. “You are inebriated.”
“Not yet, but I was getting there before you showed up.”
“Why are you so angry?”
Her question seemed to catch him off guard. He stared at her for what seemed an eternity and then moved to sit next to her on the bed. “You wouldn’t understand.”
“I understand more than you think.” She noticed his eyes were slightly unfocused.
“How did you know where to find me tonight?” Brant murmured in a soft voice.
“What?”
“How did you know where to look for me?”
“I pushed into your mind, which has not been an easy thing to do as of late. I suppose your inebriation relaxed your guard. At any rate, I borrowed some of Fiona’s clothes and went to the surface in search of a place known as Mermaids.”
Brant rested his hands on his knees and studied his fingernails. “You’ve got me messed up, Syrina. One minute you want me gone, the next, you’re out culling the streets looking for me.”
It was Syrina’s turn to look at her nails. “I only want you gone because it is not right that I feel desire for you. You are human and I cannot—”
“You feel desire for me?” Brant’s words cut off the rest of her confession.
“I would not have lain before you while you pleasured me with your mouth if I did not desire you.” Syrina’s stomach was tied into so many knots she thought she might be sick.
Brant surged to his feet and yanked his shirt over his head. His boots came off next.
Syrina’s stomach tightened even more. “What are you doing?”
“Pleasuring you again.”
Her heart began to pound in her ears. “But—”
“I’ll leave my pants on,” he interrupted. “This won’t mate you to me.”
Torn between running from the room or stripping out of her clothes, she continued fidgeted with her fingers.
“I won’t do anything you don’t want me to. You have my word.”
“That is what I am afraid of,” Syrina whispered. “I may not want you to stop.”
Brant didn’t answer, his gaze boring into hers. He simply stood there, his powerful chest rising and falling as he waited on her decision.
Syrina unlaced her boots and slid them off along with the too-tight jeans she’d borrowed from Fiona.
That was all the consent Brant needed. “Remove the shirt too,” he demanded in a low growl. “And put your palms flat on that wall in front of you.”
Syrina’s hands trembled as she lifted the shirt over her head and tossed it somewhere on the floor. “You do not want me on the bed?”
“Not yet. Face the wall with your hands over your head.”
She slowly gave him her back, her face burning hot from the realization that his gaze touched on her bottom. She placed her hands flat above her on the wall and rested her forehead against its cool surface.
He didn’t speak or move, yet she could feel him looking at her.
Warning bells had long been sounding inside her brain, screaming for her to get dressed, get out, and return to Aukrabah—no, Arkadia.
She needed to
get far away from Brant Henagar with his beautiful eyes and amazing mouth, but she couldn’t bring herself to move.
The fact that he’d been drinking should have been reason enough for her to run. Run and not look back. Yet she couldn’t. She wanted him to touch her, to make her feel alive, desirable and loved, if only for this one night. She could leave on the morrow, but tonight, she would live…
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Somewhere in the far reaches of Brant’s inebriated mind, he knew he shouldn’t put his hands on Syrina. He was playing with fire—a fire that even now threatened to burn him alive.
Syrina was more than just some female to take to bed. She was an Arkadian warrior with the power of a Bracadyte surging through her veins.
My blood is in her veins too, Brant thought with more than a little possessiveness. Mine.
His gaze consumed her long, shapely back, traveled down to her equally long, shapely legs before coming to rest on the most incredible ass he’d ever seen.
He stepped in close, rested his foot between her ankles, and forced her feet apart.
A soft intake of breath was the only sound Syrina made.
Without touching her, Brant leaned in and rested his mouth next to her ear. “Do you have any idea how incredibly alluring you are?”
Her breath shuddered out, and she moved her head from side to side.
“No?” Brant continued, coaxing her feet farther apart. “How about now?” He eased forward enough that his jean-clad erection rested lightly against her ass.
Syrina moaned, arching her back enough to push against him.
“No. Don’t move,” Brant rasped, pulling back slightly.
He could see and feel the passion coursing through her body, if the trembling in her legs were any indication.
To know that he affected her as much as she affected him sent even more blood rushing into his shaft. He’d never been so hard. Not even in his teenage years.
Brant knew in that moment that he would likely regret his promise to leave his pants on, but promise her, he did. Son of a bitch.
With an inward groan, he pressed against her once more, the feel of her shapely bottom cradling his painfully erect shaft.
His mouth lowered to her shoulder, and his hands came up to coast around her ribs. “Feel what you do to me, Syrina…”
She tilted her head to the side, offering him access to her neck.
That one small movement stirred something to life inside Brant. She trusted him with her body, with her innocence. And he’d be damned if he would do anything to break that trust. Even if it killed him.
He slid his hands up to her full breasts, cupping them in a gentle hold that belied his desperation.
Her nipples pebbled beneath his palms as her shuddering breaths echoed through the room.
“Do you like that, Syrina?”
“Y-yes,” she whispered, her voice breathy and uneven.
Brant moved in closer, planting himself firmly against her back. “Keep your hands on that wall. No matter what I do, they stay on that wall. Understood?”
She nodded, dropping her head forward once more.
With his erection pulsing against her ass, Brant rolled her nipples between his thumbs and forefingers, completely aroused by the soft sounds she made in the back of her throat.
He kissed and nipped at her shoulders, losing himself in the utter passion of Syrina.
Keeping his body aligned with hers, Brant released her breasts, coasted his hands down her stomach, stopping just above her soft mound.
He hesitated for a brief moment, giving her time to stop him if she wanted, and then inched ever lower.
His breath came out in a low growl when his fingers came into contact with her wet, hot center.
He opened her for his touch, his middle finger circling her already swollen bundle of nerves.
Her hips bucked against his erection with the first pass of his finger around her sensitive flesh, and a low, sultry cry escaped her.
Brant nearly lost control at that point. Syrina had so much passion inside her…so much fire.
Her scent alone had him teetering on the edge of insanity, but the sounds she began to make were his undoing.
Brant snarled something that made little sense, dropped to his knees behind her, and buried his face in her beautiful ass.
He licked and sucked everything in his path and then spun her around and closed his mouth over her sexy, hot, swollen center.
Syrina went wild. The cries that came from her throat were matched only by her desperate attempts to remove Brant’s hair by the roots.
He didn’t care. She was on the verge of an orgasm. He could feel her pulsing and swelling beneath his rapidly moving tongue.
Without breaking the suction he had on her, he reached behind her knee and brought her left leg over his shoulder, opening her further for his exploration.
Applying pressure with his top lip, he pushed upward, forcing her swollen flesh deeper into his mouth. He sucked her. Hard.
Syrina screamed, a hoarse sound that vibrated through Brant’s skull in a myriad of emotions that exploded inside him.
He locked onto her tightly, holding her up as she rode out her orgasm against his continuously moving tongue.
Her taste, her scent, the very breaths coming from her chest surrounded Brant, drawing him in until he knew he was lost.
Syrina might not want him as her mate; she might even return to her home in Arkadia and forget he ever existed. But she would never be able to take this moment from him… the way she made him feel…and the passion she’d experienced at his hands.
No… He would never forget Syrina of Arkadia.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Syrina’s insides were on fire. The sensations Brant brought to life with his mouth were unlike anything she’d ever felt before.
He had manipulated her body with his mouth before, but not to this degree. She could feel his thoughts, his desperation to be inside her. He wanted her beneath him…to be one with him.
She looked down at his face, buried at the juncture of her thighs, and realized she wanted him to be inside her too…more than she’d ever wanted anything in her life.
Consequences be damned. Brant felt right. It didn’t matter to her that he wasn’t a Bracadyte or what her father thought or even the fact that she could never return home. All that mattered to her in that moment was Brant, and the way she felt in his arms.
“I want more, Brant. I need more.”
He suddenly surged to his feet, scooped her up into his powerful arms, and practically tossed her onto the bed.
Syrina barely had time to comprehend his intentions before he came down over her, opening her thighs with his knees.
He took hold of her hands, brought them above her head, and locked his fingers with hers. “Put your legs around me.”
She hesitated, her breathing still harsh and uneven. “You have not removed your pants.”
He closed his eyes, dropping his forehead to hers. “If I remove my pants, I won’t be able to stop. They’re the only thing that’s keeping me out of you. I want inside you so bad, I ache.”
His admission brought on a fresh round of wetness. Though Syrina had never known another sexually, she knew enough to understand her body’s needs and desires. And it needed Brant. Now.
She could feel herself preparing for him, craving, swelling, heating up to the point where she thought she would go insane from need. She lifted her hips, seeking closer contact.
“God dammit,” he snarled, tightening his hold on her hands and dragging his jean-clad erection against her throbbing center.
The movement wrenched a cry from her. She tilted her pelvis again, her overheated flesh craving more—something—anything.
Brant’s mouth immediately closed over hers, and he ground his hardness against her again and again.
She swallowed his moans, mimicking his movement as his powerful hips continuously thrust.
Syrina slipped into
a frenzy, her body seizing with the power of the orgasm racing up her spine.
“Brant!” she mentally cried, unwilling to break the suction his mouth had on hers.
She could feel him there with her, inside her head, his mind linking with hers.
“Come for me,” he mentally demanded, his voice a dominating presence that along with his ever-thrusting hips brought her to completion.
Her back bowed off the bed with enough force she lifted his weight with her. She broke free of the hold he had on her hands and dug her nails into his shoulders. She couldn’t seem to get enough.
Brant never slowed his pace. He rode out her orgasm in physical torment—a pain Syrina could feel as surely as if it were her own. He’d tortured himself to give her pleasure, all the while holding tightly to his promise not to enter her.
No, he hadn’t taken her, though he could have. She wouldn’t have stopped him. In fact, she had all but begged him to.
Shame was swift to take hold. Syrina turned her face to the side and mentally severed their connection.
Brant rose to his knees between her open legs. “Did I do something to hurt you?”
She brought her gaze back to his. “You did not hurt me.”
An indention appeared between his eyes. “You shut me out. I obviously did something wrong.”
“I would like to get up now.”
Brant’s confusion was instant. “Not until you tell me what I did to upset you.”
How could she tell him that he’d ripped her pride to shreds? She had practically begged him to take her, yet he’d resisted. Which told her one thing for certain. Brant Henagar had no desire to be anything more to her than what he was in that moment. A man she shared blood with.
“You did not upset me. I am merely uncomfortable. Please do not force me to physically remove you.”
Brant’s eyebrows shot up. He eased from between her thighs and threw his hand out. “By all means do what you have to do.”
Syrina rolled to her feet, noticing that the front of his jeans were wet. Her already injured pride took another hit, and heat flew up her neck to settle in her face.
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