Anya wasn’t certain whether she was more mesmerized and charmed by what he’d said or his mouth as it drifted slowly toward her own. She couldn’t seem to find the will to even attempt to evade his touch, though, regardless of the doubts he’d given rise to. Maybe she wanted it because of the doubts, needed the reassurance of his touch?
Her lips tingled in anticipation long before she felt his touch. Her heart raced. Her lungs labored with the effort to drag in and expel even a small amount of air and the lack of sufficient air made her head swim.
Perhaps because he’d given rise to confusion and doubts, or because he was acting himself as if he’d never met her before, she felt an odd sense of disorientation when he touched her, a strangeness she couldn’t entirely understand. She knew his touch, his essence as well, now, as she knew her own body … or almost as well, and yet for just an instant, she felt as if he’d never touched her before, as if it was a stranger who held her.
A tremor rippled through her as his mouth settled over hers and his heat and taste invaded her in welcome conquest, though. The feel of his mouth, the hunger in his touch, thrilled her as much as it ever had before, perhaps more. Her sex quaked in want even as her form collided and melded with his with the tightening of his strong arms around her. She might deny, still, the entanglement of her emotions with this man, but there was no denying the melody of desire he summoned from every fiber of her being with little more than a look.
Uttering a faint sound of capitulation, she savored the dance of his tongue along hers, joined him in the waltz that made her body sing with joyful excitement. He responded with a fervor that was almost as unnerving as it was thrilling. His kiss became demanding, hard, ruthless, his hold upon her tightening for many moments before he seemed to force himself to ease his grip and began to explore her with hands that shook with eagerness.
She was naked. She hadn’t realized it until she felt the unrestricted stroke of his bare palm along her bare skin, but there was no surprise, only gladness that she could feel his caresses without the impediment of clothing.
Without any sense of movement, she found herself lying supine upon a cushy, faintly prickling bed of vegetation, felt the welcome weight of his naked form along the length of hers. He wrenched his lips from hers, stared down at her for a moment, his face taut, his thoughts unfathomable. “My soul knows yours, minotez, knows you are the half I have hungered for without knowing what it was I searched for.”
She stared at him dizzily, confused—impatient. Amusement flickered in his eyes. “I am impatient, as well, minotez,” he murmured, dipping his head toward her and nudging her chin up with his face so that he could explore her throat with his lips as he had her mouth. He sucked at the pulse point of her throat and lifted his head to find her lips again, kissing her with a feverish need that snatched all sense of control from her.
She stroked him, pulled at him to urge him to penetrate her at once, feeling a wildness of need to match his. As if he was as impatient as she was, he directed her with the caress of his stroking hand, arranging her for his possession, positioning himself to enter her. She gasped when he pierced her flesh with the turgid length of his, arching to counter his thrust, her throat closing with anticipation at his desperate forays to claim her, panting for breath when he’d forged a ruthless path along her channel and sank deeply inside of her.
“Ah, minotez,” he gasped raggedly. “It could not feel better if I was inside of you in truth.”
A tremor traveled through him and into her at his words. She felt her body quicken, leaping toward completion. Almost the moment he began to move, she felt the first warning tremors of imminent release. She clutched at him tightly, frantically, meeting each feverish, shaking thrust as he strove to reach his own peak. He shuddered when she stiffened and then began to utter breathless cries as her climax broke over her, hesitating briefly before he began to move faster, drive deeper, carrying her pleasure before him until she was almost screaming with the force of the convulsions rippling through her and finally joining her as her body reached a surfeit and began a descent.
Thoroughly spent, they lay tangled together for many moments, merely enjoying the ability to breathe more deeply, the slowing of their hearts. Curled around her possessively, he nuzzled her face and throat appreciatively, murmuring words she realized were love words even though she didn’t understand any of them.
It was enough that she felt like that was what he was saying. It chased away some of the doubts that still lingered in her mind. She caressed him in return, with gratitude for the pleasure he’d given her.
She was still disturbed by the fact that he hadn’t seemed to know her, though, and after a little time those doubts resurfaced. “Why didn’t you know me?”
He lifted his head to study her and finally shifted his weight from her. Lifting a hand, he touched her cheek lightly. She could see that he was wrestling with something that bothered him. “I think I did,” he murmured almost ruefully. “I think that is what drew me here, although I believed it was something else entirely. There is a link of the minds that distance cannot severe. I always feel that inescapable pull, no matter the distance. And it was far greater than ever before.”
She stared at him in confusion, wondering it if was just her sluggish, sated mind that made it impossible to follow or if he actually was speaking as cryptically as it seemed.
He grinned abruptly, dragging her close for a brief kiss. “I am being cryptic. Shall I show you my world, minotez? It hardly seems … just … that I know you as well as I know myself and you know so little of me.”
The offer distracted her. Pleasure wafted through her … and doubt. “You can do that?”
He chuckled. Rising to his feet, he seemed to brush at himself, but when he had, he was fully dressed. He reached down to her, pulling her to her feet and when she looked down at herself she saw that she was dressed, as well. She looked up at him in rueful amusement. “That’s hardly a miraculous feat when you’re in my head anyway,” she chided him.
He grinned at her. “I shall have to try harder to impress you, minotez!”
Releasing her hand, he lifted his arms. The countryside where they stood vanished and she found that they were standing in the streets of a city—an alien city. Bemused, she looked around at the towering buildings and the people strolling around the streets around them. In a sense, it might have been any city on earth—except that the architecture was unlike anything she’d ever seen before, and there was a strange peacefulness to it, an unhurried air about the citizens that was as completely alien to humans as their dress. They all wore robes as he did, light airy clothing that flowed around them as they walked.
Taking her hand, he guided her along the street while she craned her neck to take everything in, studying the people a while and then the buildings. There were markings here and there, on short pillars that edged the cross streets, above the doors of the buildings they passed, that seemed vaguely familiar to her. “It’s your language,” she said, a little surprised when she realized where she’d seen the markings before.
He glanced at her, lifted his brows questioningly a moment, and then grinned. “You thought it was someone else’s?” he asked teasingly.
She frowned. “It looked like several different languages. I don’t know why I thought that.”
“Clever, Anya. It is three.” He pointed to the sign above one door and then another and she saw the slight differences in the symbols. When they’d walked a short distance, he pointed to another.
“There are three languages spoken in the same city?” she asked in surprise.
“More than that, in truth. This is the … capitol city of Zaibetrophe,” he responded, obviously both amused and vaguely affronted at the comment. “Do they not speak many languages in your own cities?”
“Yes, but ….” Embarrassed, she felt her face redden. “I don’t know. I guess I thought ….”
He sent her a knowing look and she broke off. He was right. It was arr
ogant to think that her world was so completely unique that there couldn’t possibly be another world even similar.
They came at last to a structure that looked more like a palace than anything else—except there was no sign of guards. People strolled in and out of the front entrance completely unmolested.
It was the most breathtakingly beautiful thing she’d ever seen. She was awed by it even before they entered and the interior was even more beautiful, the intricate moldings and carvings gilded with some gleaming metal, the windows draped with some luxurious looking fabric, and thick carpets along the stone floor.
He guided her up a winding stair and into what appeared to be a private apartment.
She jolted to a halt when she saw the man and woman standing together near a window, their arms entwined. She recognized them instantly from the hologram the child in her other vision had held.
Legion pulled her close. “That is my parents,” he corrected her.
She looked up at him in surprise. “You look so much like your father!” she exclaimed, feeling a flicker of distrust as it occurred to her to wonder if he’d only said that to confuse her—as if she wasn’t already thoroughly bemused!
He frowned faintly and turned to study the man as if it hadn’t occurred to him before. “There is certainly a very strong resemblance,” he said finally.
He seemed to dismiss it in the next moment. A look of devilry entered his eyes. “Shall I show you my chambers?”
Anya couldn’t help but laugh. “I couldn’t begin to imagine what you have on your mind!” she said ruefully.
A slow grin curled his lips. His eyes danced with laughter, but there was a predatory gleam in them, as well. “Exactly as I thought,” he murmured. “You do not know me nearly well enough, yet, minotez, if you cannot guess what is on my mind.”
Catching her hand, he strode swiftly down a short corridor and pushed open the door to a large, airy room. She had a brief impression of the trappings of a child’s room before she found herself tumbling onto the wide bed in the center of the room.
She looked up at him, charmed by his playfulness. He grinned back at her, but sobered almost at once, desire blazing in his eyes. “Already I am addicted to the taste of you, my Anya. I do not think I can get enough quickly enough to appease the burning need.”
She felt her throat close at his expression, felt a rush of heated desire fill her even as he leaned closer and covered her mouth in heated possession.
It flickered through her mind that she was as addicted to his touch, maybe more, than he was to hers. She hadn’t seen this almost ‘devil may care’ side of him before, but it was as appealing in its own way as his more serious side.
His taste and touch were so intoxicating it flickered through her mind to wonder if it was real or if he was using powers she couldn’t even imagine to intensify a natural attraction she already felt. She didn’t actually doubt that he would if he could, she realized. There was a ruthlessness about him that couldn’t be denied despite his charm.
The attempt to qualify her feelings was woefully brief, however. The feel of his hot mouth moving over hers, the essence of him that invaded her created a dizzying lassitude that made rational thought impossible.
She wanted this … him … whatever the consequences. Regardless of whether he was cheating by manipulating her in some way, he was devastating to her senses, infinitely desirable.
“Let … her … go … brother.”
Chapter Nine
A jolt went through Anya when the low, threatening growl of words penetrated her fogged mind. His hold loosened upon her—slowly, with obvious reluctance. Dizzy with the abruptness of his abandonment, it took an effort for Anya to pry her heavy eyelids up to look for him when she found herself suddenly alone on the bed.
Shock hit Anya in an almost physical wave. She stared at Legion blankly for several moments before she sat up and stared at the man who’d kissed her—Legion—her mind scrambling to comprehend.
His expression was taut as he met her gaze, but he wiped even that from his features, giving nothing of his thoughts away as he faced the new Legion who’d appeared. “Why does it not surprise me to discover that you have found more trouble, brother?” he drawled.
Legion slid a hard look at her. “Leave her out of this, Zavier,” he growled.
Anya’s heart jerked in her chest. She felt her eyes round as she swayed between disbelief, embarrassment, and abrupt certainty, realizing she’d misinterpreted the ‘dream’ she’d seen because she’d been too entangled in hurt and jealousy to think clearly. She felt, abruptly, like a complete fool—used, hurt, angry—more so than she’d felt before when she’d misunderstood what she’d been shown.
If she hadn’t been so certain the existence of the two boys was proof of Legion’s perfidy and jealous of the woman he had taken as his own she wouldn’t have leapt to the erroneous conclusion that the child had been named for his father. She would’ve realized it was Legion, himself, as a child.
Or maybe not. Maybe it wasn’t entirely from jealousy, she thought hopefully. He’d shown her his past before in a sense by showing her his world. The focus hadn’t been on him then, though, but rather the world he’d hailed from. Showing her his childhood had been completely unexpected.
It had thrown her, she told herself, into complete confusion. She had felt more than a little twinge of jealousy, but it hadn’t necessarily completely clouded her judgment.
She sent the man he’d called Zavier a reproachful look, wondering why he’d deceived her. Merely for his own amusement? Because he had wanted to hurt Legion and thought he could through her?
Because he wanted a sample of what Legion had been enjoying and knew it would be no contest to take what he wanted if he made her think he was Legion?
He shook his head slightly, his expression hardening. “You are right in that I wanted you, that I was willing to take advantage to feel your willingness, minotez, but you could not be more wrong about my reasons. I did not set out to deceive you—my appearance was enough to do that,” he muttered with disgust.
He studied her for a long moment and abruptly … changed. One moment he looked identical to Legion, the next his hair darkened to inky black and his skin tones—his skin—took on the look of titanium steel, gleaming as if it was metal. Physically, he was still identical in every way—the same strong, facial features, the same height, the same build, only his coloring had changed, but it was radical enough to make them look completely different from one another.
His lips twisted in derision at the look of horror on her face. “This does not please you, my minotez? You like the wrapping he prefers better? I am willfully deceiving you if I show myself as I truly am? But horrifying if I change to suit your need to tell us apart? Can I not please you, minotez, unless I am him?”
“She is not your anything, Zavier,” Legion ground out, surging toward Zavier suddenly and grasping his throat.
Zavier’s eyes narrowed but, beyond gripping Legion’s forearms, he made no apparent attempt to break his brother’s grip on his throat. “She does not know that you deceived her, as well, does she, Legion? You think I cannot bend her to my will as you have?” he asked tauntingly.
Anya felt the abrupt pressure of a broad palm against her back, pushing her forward until she was on her hands and knees. An arm encircled her waist. A hand glided over her buttocks. “I would enjoy bending her to my will,” Zavier said huskily near her ear, slipping the hand he’d used to caress her buttocks into the cleft of her ass and following it until he found the mouth of her sex and delving inside of her. Her throat closed at the intimate touch. Her face heated at her body’s instant response.
She glanced sharply to one side as he withdrew his hand from its intimate appraisal and discovered it wasn’t her imagination. It was Zavier … now behind her on the bed. The moment that registered, she glanced again to where Legion and Zavier had been struggling and discovered Legion, alone now, glaring furiously at Zavier.
&n
bsp; “I did not bend her to my will,” he growled angrily. “I coaxed. She came. It is the way of her people—to court the one chosen for a mate.”
Zavier laughed, but it wasn’t a sound of amusement. “I saw. She will come for me—ah—to me, as well. If she appreciates an imitation, she should find the original even more to her taste. Has, in point of fact. Shall I show you, brother?”
He slipped a hand over her belly and pinched her clit between his thumb and forefinger. Instantly, a jolt traveled through Anya. Every nerve ending in her body exploded with sensation as if she’d spontaneously combusted. She sucked in a harsh breath as convulsions of rapture seized her. She trembled and jerked with the force of the spasms rocketing through her, sucking in sharp, gasping breaths when she was able to breathe at all.
Her muscles lost tone, her arms buckling beneath her weight as the tremors finally abated. She would’ve wilted face first onto the bed if Zavier hadn’t held her upright.
Dazed, completely confused, she lifted her head, opening her eyes with an effort to discover that Legion was studying Zavier through narrowed eyes blazing with fury. As if drawn by the movement, however, his gaze shifted to her. She felt the intensity of his gaze.
Heat wafted through her, sensation crawling along her flesh as if stinging ants were swarming her. A warning quake trembled along the corridor of her sex.
“Come for me, beloved,” he murmured in a husky voice.
Anya shuddered, gasping hoarsely as her body erupted abruptly in another climax. By the time the spasms had reached a crescendo, she was screaming. She sagged limply in Zavier’s arms in relief when the quakes finally ceased and she could catch her breath, still shivering with the faint aftershocks running through her.
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