by Marilyn Lee
She screamed in panic. “Malik…Malikinder…”
Several pair of hands reached down and dragged his body off hers. She was jerked to her feet.
The warrior daughter of one of her father’s fiercest enemies confronted her. She knew the woman coveted Malikinder.
Tanginika shook off her grief and stood with her head held high. She would die with the courage and dignity the daughter of a king should always display. She looked into the dark, malevolent eyes of the female she knew intended to kill her. “Aja.”
Aja, flanked by several warriors, some carrying rifles, others with spears, held a heavy spear, one usually wielded by a male. She bore little resemblance to a high priestess.
“Tanginika, you’ve strayed too far from home once too often, and now you will reap the reward you deserve. Beg for it, and I may grant you a few precious moments to make your peace with the spirits.”
Tanginika prepared herself for the fate her disobedience deserved. Her deepest regret lay in the grief she knew her sister Imena would suffer when Tanginika didn’t return.
She lifted her chin. “I am already at peace with the spirits, Aja, and I will not beg.”
Aja frowned. “Not even for your life?”
She shook her head. “No.”
Aja sucked in an angry breath. “Then prepare to join your spirit gods.”
“I am always prepared to face what I must.”
“Then what are you doing so far from home, Tanginika?”
“Remember, Aja, we are all part of one. What you have done to Malikinder and what you do to me, you do to yourself.”
Aja laughed. “I do not believe in your ‘we are one’ view, Tanginika. I now send your spirit back to the lake…goddess.” She mocked the meaning of Tanginika’s name as she lifted her spear.
Tanginika kept her gaze locked with her rival’s as Aja sent her spear flying toward her breasts.
A sudden low roaring obliterated the night sounds of the jungle. A soft, almost iridescent light appeared before Tanginika. The powerful spear shattered against it, falling to the ground, inches from her feet.
After a startled silence, Aja shouted to her warriors. She caught the rifle one of the warriors tossed at her and leveled it at Tanginika.
Realizing that, despite her many transgressions, the spirits did not wish her to die, Tanginika turned and fled across the clearing toward the jungle. Bullets and spears, flattened by the shield protecting her, fell harmlessly to the ground around her.
Only when she’d reached the protection afforded by the thick foliage did she turn to look behind her.
Aja’s warriors cowered in fear. Aja herself stood by the fire with her head held high, displaying no fear. “Tanginika! Witch! Spawn and servant of dark, unclean spirits! I will have my revenge. I will have it even if I have to march into your father’s territory to do it.”
Tanginika glared at Aja, forcing herself not to look at Malikinder’s body.
Aja reached down. She lifted Malikinder’s head and deliberately pushed it into the fire.
Tanginika swallowed a sob of grief and rage. She rushed forward but found her way blocked by the unseen, impenetrable barrier.
“No, Tanginika. There is no time.”
“I have to help him.”
“He’s beyond your ability to help. He’d want you to be safe. Flee.”
Tanginika felt rather than heard the words. Nevertheless, the spirit’s desire was clear. Her eyes welling with tears, she turned and ran into the jungle. She hugged the certainty of Malikinder’s inability to experience pain to her.
“Hurry. Hurry. You must hurry, sheenea. I can only protect you as long as I can remain here. The others already know of my intervention. They’re calling me home for an explanation. I can’t remain here much longer. Hurry. Hurry.”
With the voice of the spirit who had saved her echoing in her head, she fled through the night. As she did, she silently called out. Malikinder! Malikinder, I’ll never forget you, and I’ll love you forever…forever…forever…
She felt a faint response: “Remember, my lovely one. As long as you remember me, I will continue to exist, my sheenea. Remember me…”
Chapter Two
Present day, Philadelphia, Pennsylvania
“Guess what drop-dead, sexy-as-hell Norseman is back?”
Erin Benson took a slow, deep breath. It didn’t help. Her heartbeat quickened. Nervous excitement raced through her, setting her nerve endings on fire. She knew the he in question was their upstairs neighbor, Aleksander Storm. A picture of a tall, gorgeous hunk with blond hair, penetrating silver-gray eyes, a big, sculptured body, and a slow, sensuous smile popped into her head.
He was back. Finally.
“Did you hear me, Erin? Your sexy Norseman’s back.”
Erin had to swallow several times before she turned from buffing her nails at her bedroom vanity. Her twin sister, Erica, waltzed into her bedroom and sprawled on her bed.
If only he were her Norseman. No. Her interest in him felt wrong, yet the moment their gazes had met and locked nine months earlier in the laundry room of their apartment complex, she’d felt a shock of recognition. A joyful surge of delight had followed. For several timeless minutes, they had stared into each other’s eyes. She’d felt confused, excited, and afraid.
Aleksander’s slow, intimate smile, combined with his touch as they shook hands, had sent tingles all through her and conjured memories of almost forgotten nights spent waiting for an opportunity to slip away from the village and into his arms. Even as the thought entered her head, she rejected it. For all his charismatic appeal, Aleksander was a stranger.
Nevertheless, Erin had stunned her family by abruptly ending her exclusive ten-month relationship with Mark Hillman the same night of her brief meeting with Aleksander. She had then waited for Aleksander to ask her out.
As the weeks turned into months, she had reminded herself that her vague memories of a lost love had centered around a tall, handsome African prince with beautiful, sleek ebony skin. Aleksander had blond hair and fair skin and had no visible means of support. With her luck, when he disappeared for weeks at a time, he was probably on drug runs.
Five months after she’d ended her relationship with Mark, Aleksander had arrived at her door with flowers. “These are for you.”
“African violets!” she exclaimed. “I love them.”
For a moment, she’d half expected him to say he knew. “They’re beautiful, Aleksander,” she went on.
He spoke in a husky whisper that ignited a tiny flame in the pit of her belly. “As are you.”
He lifted her fingertips to his lips. “Have a drink with me.”
With the word no trembling on her lips, she’d looked into his gray gaze and was lost. “Yes,” she whispered.
He smiled and brushed his lips against her fingertips.
A jolt of electricity danced down her spine.
Fifteen minutes later, they’d sat side by side on his sofa sipping a drink.
Or she had sipped a drink. He’d dipped his tongue into his glass, circled his drink along his lips, and then sat consuming her with his eyes.
The flame in her belly flared as he’d brushed his cheek against hers and whispered to her in a soft, unintelligible language.
She’d put down her drink, her heart racing. Then, as if they had a mind of their own, her arms had linked around his neck.
He’d responded by rising and sweeping her up into his arms.
His ability to lift her with such ease had surprised and delighted her. She’d brushed her lips against his neck as he carried her out onto the balcony to a large double-wide chaise longue.
Lying there with him under the stars in the cool April night, faint memories of another night with another lover tantalized her. When Aleksander murmured her name, she turned onto her side to face him. She touched his cheek. He clearly found her as attractive as she found him. So what was the source of her conflicted feelings?
He’d drawn
her into his arms before she could decide.
The clear outline of a long, hard cock pressed against her, igniting long-dormant primal passions in her. She made a soft sound of encouragement.
Slipping a hand in her hair, he stared down into her eyes. He bent his head but paused with his lips a breath away from hers.
Erin knew he waited for permission to continue. She gave her consent by parting her lips in an open invitation.
He caressed her cheek.
The sudden gentle breeze that surrounded her felt familiar and welcome. Rolling onto her back, she parted her legs. A soft rain caressed her skin.
He positioned himself between her thighs with his cock pressing against her.
Yes. Oh, yes.
He lowered his upper body until her breasts cushioned the hard muscles of his chest.
She stroked her hands down his back to his tight buns. Yes! Take me!
He gently, tentatively touched his mouth to hers.
She closed her eyes, enraptured by the warmth and tenderness of the caress.
He dragged his tongue along her parted lips while he slowly rubbed his cock against her.
She moaned.
He kissed a path across her cheek to her earlobe.
She slipped her hands up his body to rest on his shoulders, eager for more intimacy.
He nibbled at her ear before kissing his way back to her mouth.
While she savored the foreplay, the soft rain kissed her skin. She clutched his shoulders, enjoying the taste of whiskey on his lips. Nice, but she needed more. She extended her tongue and ground herself against his cock.
He responded by sliding a hand down her body.
She lifted her hips.
He devoured her lips with a slow, rapacious hunger that set her entire body ablaze.
She moaned against his mouth, her pussy flooding. She returned his kisses with a need that had gone unsatisfied for far too long. Kissing and grinding against his cock, she lost herself in his heat and passion, matching it with a fervor of her own.
Even as she burned with physical need for him, she felt an emotional connection and desire for him that made coherent thought difficult. Certain all her needs were about to be satisfied, she struggled to slip her hands inside his trousers and briefs.
He lifted his hips, and she felt him sliding his zipper down.
She sighed and slipped her hand inside his briefs. With her palms against his taut ass, she stiffened and opened her eyes.
He lifted his head. “What is it?”
She pulled her hands from his briefs. “I just saw a flash of lightning overhead.”
To her surprise, he smiled. “Really?”
She pushed at his shoulders. “We should go back inside.”
“Why? Are you afraid of storms?”
“No. I’ve always thought they could be beautiful and majestic, but at the same time, I have a healthy respect for lightning.”
“As well you should.” He caressed her cheek. “However, the only storm you need concern yourself with is the one brewing inside me.”
A faint rumble of thunder sounded in the distance. “But—”
“You’re safe with me, Erin. You’ll always be safe with me.”
His deep voice carried the comfort of a warm, rain-kissed summer breeze.
She relaxed.
“That’s it. Trust me.”
There was no reason why she should, but she did.
He smiled before he kissed her with a slow deliberation.
She clung to him, her lips parting under his.
He swept his tongue between her lips, settling his body against hers.
With the storm raging overhead, she stroked her hands over his shoulders and upper back.
The insistent ringing of a phone intruded on her senses.
He stiffened and dragged his thrusting tongue from her mouth.
“Don’t answer,” she urged, sliding her palms down his back to clutch his ass.
He took a deep, shuddering breath and stared down at her.
She rubbed herself against his cock. “Let it ring.”
Noting the regret in his gaze, she knew her plea would go unanswered. “I can’t,” he whispered in a brusque voice.
She lifted her head to nibble at his lips. “Let the answering machine pick up.”
“I can’t.”
“Why not?”
He sighed. “It might be my…daughter.”
“Your daughter?” Shaken, she extricated herself from him. “You have a daughter?”
He stared at her in silence while the phone continued to shrill for several moments. “I’m not married,” he assured her.
Someone had borne his daughter.
He responded just as if she’d spoken her concerns aloud. “I’m not married.”
She glanced at his bare left land. Many married men didn’t wear rings.
He shook his head. “I don’t wear a ring because I’m not married.”
She bit her lip.
The phone continued to ring.
He rose from the lounger. “I have to answer that.”
She watched as he crossed the balcony to pick up the cordless phone from the table where it lay.
She sat up on the lounger, wrapping her arms around her knees.
He kept his back to her and his voice low. After a brief, soft-voiced discussion, he put down the phone. He inhaled before he turned to face her. “I’m sorry, but I’m going to have to leave.”
She blinked. “What?”
He crossed the balcony and extended a hand to her. “There’s an emergency. I have to return home.”
“To Norway?”
“Norway?”
“Isn’t that home?”
“No. It isn’t.”
“Is your daughter all right?”
He raked a hand through his hair. “I need to go to her.”
She gave him her hand.
He lifted her to her feet.
She stared up at him. “Is there anything I can do?”
He flashed a brief smile at her. “Yes.” He caressed her cheek. “Wait for me.”
“Wait for… How long will you be gone?”
He shook his head. “I don’t know.”
Great. He wanted her to wait indefinitely.
“I’ll return as soon as I can, but I will return, Erin. I promise.”
Damn if that didn’t sound as if he’d be gone for more than a few days, or even weeks.
“I’ll return as soon as I can.” He sighed. “I’ll walk you to your apartment.”
So she’d allowed him to walk her to the apartment she shared with Erica.
She stood outside the door, uncertain if she should lift her face for a kiss or offer him her hand or a quick cup of decaf or—
“I don’t have time for any of that. I have to go,” he told her.
No time for even a quick kiss to reassure her?
He hesitated before he bent to press a gentle kiss against the corner of her mouth. “Wait for me, Erin.”
She leaned into him, turning her head to touch her lips against his.
He sucked in a breath and stepped away from her. “Wait for me.”
“Alek…”
“Wait for me.” He turned and walked away without so much as a promise to call her.
The urge to rush after him had been difficult to overcome.
After weeks spent tensing each time the phone rang and haunting any part of the apartment complex where she’d encountered him in the past, she’d come to the painful realization that he was deliberately avoiding her. Her certainty that he’d regretted whatever impulse had driven him to invite her to his apartment had hurt. Or worse, he’d probably lied to her, and there was a wife to go with the daughter he’d never mentioned.
“Hey, girl, will you get your head out of the clouds? I’m not talking because I like the sound of my own voice—even though I have to admit it’s wonderful and exciting.”
Erin dismissed the memory of her last
embarrassing meeting with Aleksander and stopped pretending to buff her nails. She blinked at Erica. “What?”
“I said he’s back from his family emergency. Contrary to his ex-wife’s hysterics, his daughter’s life was never in danger. Honestly, Erin, you’d think a grown woman could handle a broken arm without going to pieces, wouldn’t you?”
Erin nearly drowned in an ocean of relief. So he hadn’t lied, nor had he been avoiding her. There was a daughter, but no current wife. “How long has he been gone?”
“Don’t you know?”
To the minute. “Why should I?”
Erica shrugged. “He’s been gone for nearly three months.” Erica cast her dark gaze toward the ceiling. “Can you imagine a modern woman who would insist a man stay so long for a broken arm?”
Erin chose her words carefully. “Do you think that’s the only reason she wanted him to stay so long?”
Erica shook her head. “Probably not. The man is a certified hunk, but I wouldn’t worry. She is, after all, his ex for a reason.”
Erin lowered her gaze. “How old is she?”
“His ex?”
“No. His daughter.”
Erica struggled. “Haven’t got a clue. Do you want me to find out, Nika?”
Erica’s sudden use of the nickname sent her back into the past. When Erin and Erica were five, they’d seen a program with a pretty African girl named Tanginika. Erin had felt such a strong affinity for her, she’d immediately asked to have her name changed to Tanginika. Her parents had been kind but uncooperative. She’d then asked everyone to call her Tanginika. Her parents had again refused—as had everyone except Erica.
Unable to pronounce Tanginika, Erica had immediately started calling her Nika. After they entered college, by unspoken mutual consent, Erica had gradually dropped the nickname. Hearing it now warmed Erin and reminded her of how supportive and loving her twin had always been.
“Nika?”
She shook her head. “No. Thanks.”
Erica rolled over and sat up, placing her back against Erin’s headboard. “Do you think the bath salts and that horrible oil came from him? They did have an LA postmark.”
Two weeks after her near surrender to him, Erin had returned home to find a beautifully wrapped gift package waiting for her. She’d opened it to find two exquisite blue crystal vases inside. One had been filled with exotic bath salts. The other had contained sensual oil.