Holden's Mate

by Meg Ripley

  And then she did the most foolish thing she’d ever done. She leaned forward, closing the sliver of distance between her lips and his, and she kissed him, letting his desire wash over her as her own blazed hot in her veins.

  He let go of her wrists, and in one, swift tug, he released the halter-style tie to her dress. The bodice slipped between them a split second before his hands followed its descent, cupping her breasts firmly and making her moan quietly in pleasure.

  He groaned or growled, she wasn’t sure which, and he deepened the kiss as his hands moved to her shoulders, his grip tight. He took a step forward, and then another, forcing her backward with him. Another step, this one backing her up against the wall. It didn’t hurt, or at least, she was too wrapped up in the fire to notice, but all of a sudden, he stopped.

  His hands dropped to clenched fists at his sides. He was breathing even heavier, and her eyes were drawn to the rise and fall of his chiseled chest.

  “Claire,” he said in a ragged whisper, though she wasn’t sure if it was a plea or a warning. She didn’t care which one. She reached for him, needing to feel his heat against her skin, to taste his lips. He swooped in with a kiss that would no doubt leave her lips bruised come morning, but left her with tremors of excitement right now. But he withdrew swiftly with a strangled groan and took a step back. And then another.

  “Go home,” he spoke between clenched teeth. Then he turned and strode out of the room so fast it was as if the hounds of hell were on his heels.

  Now what? she wondered, half-surprised she was capable of even that much coherent thought. But though every inch of her was still boiling over with liquid fire, she came back to herself quickly in his absence, a sudden crash that left her something akin to shell-shocked.

  He wasn’t coming back; she was certain of it. She’d felt his restraint snapping little by little, and he didn’t like it. He wasn’t certain he could get a hold on it, and so he’d left. She should be relieved; what had been happening between them had scared her as much as it aroused her, and she needed time to think, to figure out what was going on.

  It had never been like that; she’d long since refrained from any form of physical contact because of the turmoil it caused within her. The aura she saw around every person was a curse, but one she’d learned to live with. But physical contact was always worse.

  When she touched someone, or when someone touched her, it was as if she could see them more deeply. And what she saw became a part of her, a part she didn’t want, that had no place in her…and a part she would carry around forever, nevertheless.

  But with Noah, there had been nothing she didn’t want, nothing but the constant shower of their united desire.

  Realizing she was still standing there alone, she forced the strangeness of the past hour to the back of her mind, fixed her dress, gathered her purse from the table and left the building on shaking legs. She should have called for a cab, but she didn’t. The odd connection between her and Noah now severed, she wanted to leave, to run…and the idea of standing around waiting for a taxi service made her skin crawl.

  So, she walked, letting her mind wander where it willed. She was tired, but no amount of rest or sleep could remedy her fatigue. She was tired of being different, of seeing things she didn’t want to see, of feeling things she had no business feeling. And right now, more potent than ever, she was tired of never understanding it.

  It hadn’t always been this way. When she was young, she had been just like any other girl, thrilled with the opportunity to explore new places and meet new people, despite the recent tragedy in her life. But that was a long time ago, a very long time since her life had changed irrevocably, though she couldn’t even say for sure when it had changed.

  She’d thought nothing of it when she started to see people differently. It was just a faint haze at first, and she’d been convinced she needed glasses—not that she would have admitted it to her uncle at the time.

  It wasn’t significant until it grew more vivid and she began to recognize the haze that hovered over one person was different from the haze over the person standing next to them. And before long, it got much, much worse. The haze was no longer a haze, but an aura that surrounded every person, good and bad, frightening in its clarity.

  But it was the day her uncle had innocently brushed her hand that had forced her to bring her secret into the light. She couldn’t keep it hidden from him because it was too much for a child to bear. Because in that innocent brush, it was like seeing her uncle for the first time, his hopes and dreams, even his secrets, everything that made him who he was; she saw it as clear as if someone had painted a picture of his soul.

  “Good evening again, Miss Thomas,” a voice spoke in the same moment an icy chill shivered down her spine, putting an abrupt end to her trip down memory lane. She didn’t need to turn to see who it was; no person she’d ever met possessed the same, dark, indistinct aura this man had.

  “Good evening, Mr. Cross,” she replied without turning around. She considered slowing her steps to be polite, but she was already struggling against the urge to launch into a flat-out run.

  “I didn’t get the chance to congratulate you on your recent publication in the European Journal of Archaeology. Your work is astounding, truly.”

  “Thank you,” she replied uneasily, finding it strange that the man was somehow familiar with her work. That, and it was unusual for someone outside the field to keep up with the latest archaeology journals.

  “I’m an avid collector,” he explained without her asking, making her wonder just how much of what she was thinking was clear on her face. Nevertheless, it at least offered an explanation to why he had read her article, “Dragon Worship in an Iron Age, European Society.”

  “What is it you collect?” She didn’t want to be interested; she still wanted to get away from the man as quickly as possible, but her professional curiosity was ever-present.

  “A little of this and a little of that,” he answered noncommittally. “The magnum opus of the collection is probably the eighth century stone idol of Kuzuryū, or the small remnant of the Creag Bruadar.”

  Creag Bruadar. She’d heard that name, but where? It was Celtic in origin, for sure, but what was it?

  “I happen to have both of those valuable treasures, as well as several others not far from here. I own the White Mesa Nature and Animal Preserve, and I’d be honored if you’d be willing to take a look,” he offered. “Some of my pieces have never seen the inside of a university or museum.”

  Though the enthusiastic professional in her screamed at her to agree, she hesitated, not for a moment forgetting the man’s dark aura. “I appreciate the offer, Mr. Cross, but it’s late and I really should be getting back to my hotel.”

  “Yes, of course. But you’ll stop by tomorrow, won’t you?”

  “I’ll certainly see what I can do,” she offered, not intending to come within fifty yards of the White Mesa Preserve tomorrow—or any other day.

  “Excellent. Good evening, Claire,” he said in parting, and left back the way he came, taking the cold that had surrounded her with him.

  She waved down a cab, having run into enough perplexing characters for one evening, and did her best to make her mind go blank all the way back to the hotel.

  But no matter how she tried, she couldn’t keep the evening with Noah from replaying in her mind.

  She wanted him, with an intensity that scared her almost as much as their strange connection—yes, that’s what it was. A connection of some kind. Was he cursed just like she was? No, she didn’t know how she could be so sure, but it wasn’t that. But then, what was it?

  By the time she’d arrived back at the hotel and had readied herself for bed, she worried that any more replaying the same night over and over again in her mind was going to drive her to insanity. There were no answers, no more now than there ever had been. She should be used to that.

  But Noah had added to her list of questions; to the things she didn’t under
stand. And more than that, he’d left her with a longing that kept every nerve ending in her body sensitized, impatiently waiting for a rapturous satiety that wasn’t going to come.

  She closed her eyes, trying to force all thoughts of Noah from her mind, but she could still feel his lips against hers; the firm grasp of his hands on her hips; the biting grip of his fingers on her shoulders, the brush of his hard cock against her abdomen. She laid there for an hour, and then another, and even when her body succumbed to exhaustion, he followed her into her dreams, just like he had the past several nights. But this time, there were no nightmares; only fantasies. One after another. Blatant lust. Pure, erotic hunger.

  She would have given almost anything for a nightmare.

  Upon waking for the umpteenth time that night in desperate need of relief, she did the only thing she could do. She let her fingers wander along her body just the way Noah’s had in her dream, cupping her breasts and teasing her nipples, stroking the insides of her thighs and rubbing her clit. She started off slow, but the pressure built quickly. She imagined his fingers there instead of hers; he moved faster, pressing harder while his free hand continued to roam over her body. She could see him there, hovering above her as she reached the precipice and tumbled over, crying out breathlessly into her pillow.

  It took the edge off, but nothing more. Her body hadn’t been fooled. It still yearned for the real thing, but it was just going to have to live with disappointment because that was as close to Noah Hunter she was ever going to get again.

  4

  A knock at the door hours later brought Claire abruptly awake. She scrambled out of bed and rushed across the suite.

  “Way to go, Claire!” Will whooped as she opened the door and he slid past into her hotel room. “I wasn’t sure you had it in you.”

  What was he talking about? she wondered as she closed the door behind him, though the vestiges of sleep still clung to her and it took her mouth a moment to form the question.

  “What are you going on about, Will?”

  He grabbed her hand and pressed the newspaper he was holding into it, but she recoiled so quickly, the paper fell to the floor. He was jealous, fiercely so, though he was doing his best to cover it up. She didn’t understand why until her eyes caught a glimpse of the paper’s front page. “Billionaire Tycoon Plays Hooky with Mystery Beauty,” the title read, and right below it was an unmistakable picture of her—her naked upper body wrapped in Noah’s arms. At least his back was obscuring her state of undress, but her face was clear as day.

  “Oh god,” she moaned in mortification. How long would it be before word got around and every professional in her industry saw her as nothing more than a mindless bimbo?

  “Come on, it’s not that bad, is it? So you had a little fun—you’re entitled to let loose every once in a while, you know?”

  She didn’t want to be discussing this with Will, particularly not now that she was painfully aware of his own feelings on the matter. Why hadn’t she had the forethought to cover up her hands before she’d opened the door? She knew why; because as much as she wanted to deny it, she’d been hoping it was Noah standing outside her room.

  But it wasn’t Noah, and it looked like that was a damn good thing. She’d seriously messed up, gotten herself plastered on the front page of a big city newspaper in a less than flattering position. A friend was exactly what she needed at the moment. What she definitely didn’t need—and shouldn’t want—was a man who apparently had people snapping photographs of him everywhere he went.

  And yet, Noah was precisely what she wanted.

  She wanted his hands, and his mouth, and every other inch of his body. And even more than that, she wanted to feel that connection to him, to deliberately touch him and feel the depth of his own desire. The curse that had been with her since childhood hadn’t felt like a curse for those few moments with him. It had been nearly overwhelming, both his desire and her own flooding her body, but for once she had also felt something she hadn’t felt in a very long time—home.

  But it had all been an enormous mistake. He’d run off, and all she was left with was the humiliation that would no doubt follow her around for some time to come.

  “Don’t tell me you fell hard for the guy, Claire,” Will broke into her thoughts, the teasing in his tone replaced with concern.

  “No, of course not. We didn’t…I mean, it’s not what it looks like…” she trailed off. Did she really want to be having this conversation with Will?

  “Man, it’s worse than I thought. I said to have a good time, not to get yourself emotionally invested in the guy,” he said sympathetically, wrapping his arm around her bare shoulder.

  She gritted her teeth, trying not to see what was there, but that wasn’t possible, and she couldn’t just pull away without hurting his feelings.

  Jealousy. Will was jealous, and his feelings for her were much deeper than he’d ever let on. Anger. Pity. Fear. All those things that belonged to him swirled in her own head, making the room spin around her.

  Just as she was about to pull away, he released her. She breathed a tiny sigh of relief and resisted the urge to put out her arms to steady herself.

  She needed to say something, to put an end to this conversation. It was wrong of her to keep Will out when he’d unknowingly shared so much with her, but she needed him to leave even more so because of it.

  “Will, I’m fine, really. I just didn’t expect to see myself on the newspaper’s front page, that’s all. I don’t think it’s going to do much for my career, but I’m a grown woman. I’ll survive.”

  “If you say so. Do you want to go get some breakfast?” he asked, switching topics more easily than she expected.

  “I think I’ll stay in this morning, but thank you for the offer.”

  It took another couple of minutes to get Will out the door, but by the time she did, her plan for the rest of the morning was well-formed in her mind. Actually, it was simple. There was a decent possibility her newfound fame would hasten the inevitable end of her career. And if she didn’t have much time left, she couldn’t afford to leave any stone unturned.

  So, with that thought fresh in her mind, she laid out her clothes and hopped in the shower, trying not to remember the feel of Noah’s hands on her body—and failing miserably. Still, she did her best to stay focused, dressing quickly and hurrying downstairs to hail a cab.

  Damon Cross had mentioned the Creag Bruadar, and the name had reverberated in her mind many times since. While she couldn’t be certain there was any significance to it—and it wasn’t a name her uncle had mentioned—she had a vague recollection of the artifact, though she couldn’t yet place it in any particular memory. It might be nothing more than desperation that had her reaching for memories that didn’t exist, but if there was any hope at all, she couldn’t afford to ignore it.

  Stealing herself against Damon Cross’s dark, eerie aura, she paid the cab driver and stepped out in front of the White Mesa Animal and Nature Preserve. But it appeared the preserve was closed. There were no cars in the parking lot and no staff members strolling around the property. If it weren’t for the light on inside the front building, barely visible through the glare of the morning’s sun, she would have hailed the cab back and abandoned this foolhardy errand.

  She pressed forward, crossing the short walk to the front door and tested the handle, which turned easily. Ignoring the voice in the back of her head that was screaming at her to run, she took a deep breath, opened the door and stepped inside. The soft-colored walls and vibrant green plants that greeted her created a serene environment that contrasted sharply with the turbulence inside her.

  “Claire, I’m so glad you decided to come,” Damon’s voice jarred her out of her musings and she spun around to see him striding purposefully toward her from the hallway beyond the reception desk. She resisted the urge to cringe when he grasped her gloved hand in both of his, and instead murmured something cordial in greeting in return.

  He then led he
r through the building to his office, located at the far end. Through a wall of glass on the opposite side of the office, she could see that it overlooked the sprawling beauty of the untouched nature preserve.

  Inside, slim shelves striped the wall to the right of her, each shelf adorned with artifacts that she would guess spanned the early modern period to the First World War. Outside of a museum, she’d never seen such an extensive collection of relics. Beyond those on the shelf, Grecian statues sat proudly on the desk in their place of honor, several paintings from the Renaissance decorated the wall behind the desk, and seemingly random collections of items were arranged on stands and shelves throughout the rest of the room.

  He led her past all these to a long, rectangular display case. There were no other relics near it, suggesting it was the centerpiece of the area, if not of the entire office. And upon closer inspection, she could easily see why. A bronze dagger, possibly from the Qin Dynasty; an arrowhead, perhaps from the Macedonian era; an Olbian bronze coin cast in the shape of a dolphin; and a stone carving she clearly recognized as Kuzuryū.

  “That is the stone idol of Kuzuryū I told you about,” he spoke up seconds after her eyes settled on the well-preserved item.

  “It’s a fascinating piece, certainly,” she replied, enthusiasm replacing some of her trepidation. “How did you come to have it?”

  Damon eyed her strangely, but rather than responding he began to pace back and forth, from one end of the display case to the other. “What I found fascinating was the article on your Iron Age discovery, Claire. Tell me, what else did you discover along with that impressive find?”

  “I’m afraid I don’t know what you mean? There are further excavations planned, but to the best of my knowledge none have been carried out yet.”

  “Yes, well, it will be interesting to see what is unearthed in the near future.”

  He moved to stand behind her, leaning in close, much closer than she would like, but he nodded toward the display case then and pointed to another item there.