by Jane Godman
“Sweet dreams, Princess.” Grabbing a pillow and blanket from the top shelf of the closet, he settled into his makeshift bed.
* * *
Jethro gulped coffee and groaned, stretching his limbs. Every muscle seemed to cry out in protest after possibly the worst night’s sleep he’d ever had. And that was saying something when he considered some of the places he’d been forced to get his head down in the past.
Vashti, who looked bright-eyed, regarded him over the top of her coffee cup. “I slept really well.”
“Yes, my bed is comfortable, isn’t it? At least your slumber was uninterrupted by Iago.”
“Completely uninterrupted.” She placed her coffee cup on the counter, casting him a sidelong glance as she did. “By anyone.”
“Hey—” Jethro held up a hand in a mock defensive gesture “—I told you I wouldn’t be sneaking in beside you.” He watched her face, sensing the change in mood as she fought some sort of internal battle.
Vashti took a deep breath, turning to face him. “Maybe I hoped you would.”
Damn. It took Jethro two steps to close the space between them. This wasn’t what he needed...so how come he had never needed anything so much in his whole life? He didn’t so much meet Vashti halfway as collide with her as she cast herself into his arms. Why had he wasted hours on that rock-hard sofa last night torturing himself with fantasies, when this was what she wanted, too? That was the last coherent thought he had for some time.
Vashti rose on the tips of her toes, pressing her lips to his. It started tender. Just a simple kiss. No pressure. But the tingle her touch sent through him stripped the last remnants of Jethro’s willpower away. His mouth possessed her. With a murmur of approval, Vashti slipped her arms around his neck. The kiss peaked and became dizzying. Her lips parted to the insistent demands of his and, when his tongue swept inside, she responded instantly. Each time his tongue glided across hers, Jethro felt a tremor run through her in response. He broke away, panting harder than after his run the previous night.
“Sure about this?”
“Do I look like someone who’s having second thoughts?” Since her fingers moved to the button on his jeans as she spoke, he assumed the question was rhetorical.
Jethro didn’t need any further encouragement. Tugging Vashti’s nightshirt up, he grasped her around the waist, lifting her onto the counter. His fingers scrabbled frantically at his zipper, freeing his erection. Thanking past experience for the foresight that meant he always had a condom in his pocket, he fumbled with the foil wrapper. Standing between Vashti’s thighs, he gripped his latex-sheathed cock in one hand, positioning himself at her entrance. Vashti clutched his shoulders, meeting his gaze and giving him the permission his eyes sought. Clenching the powerful muscles of his buttocks, Jethro thrust into her. Her cry—a sound midway between pleasure and surprise—rang out as her head fell back and her whole body tensed.
“Did I hurt you?” It took every ounce of restraint he possessed to hold still.
“It’s not that—” she caught her lip between her teeth “—it’s just so much more than I expected.”
“We haven’t started yet.”
Jethro’s every muscle ached with the effort of keeping his raging desire in check. He desperately needed to finish this the way his body was demanding, to pound into her, to take her hard and fast and furious. Mindful of her inexperience, he knew he had to take it slow. Sliding his hands beneath her buttocks, he lifted her closer. Her flesh was silk beneath his hands, her unique fragrance seeped into his pores, her blue eyes claimed him.
He groaned as Vashti tightened her muscles around him. “What the hell are you doing?”
“Using my initiative.” Her voice was unbearably husky. “Is that allowed?”
“Only if you’re prepared to take the consequences.” He pinned her with his gaze.
“I’ll risk it.” She gripped him harder.
Slipping partway out of her, Jethro thrust forward again, gritting his teeth as the need to lose control almost overwhelmed him. Her heat engulfed him, stiffening his cock, electrifying the nerve endings in his spine and drenching him in sweat. His erection jerked inside her and he dragged in a shuddering breath.
“Please...” Vashti begged, “I need you to keep doing that.”
Needing no further encouragement, he held her in position so she was impaled on his cock and pistoned his hips hard and fast. Vashti’s muscles clenched around his throbbing shaft as he stretched and then released her. She wrapped her legs around his hips, bucking in time with his rhythm, taking as much of his cock as she could. He drove into her as if he couldn’t get deep enough, couldn’t take her fast enough, couldn’t get enough of her. As he ground his pelvis against hers, sparks of sensation shimmered from the point of contact between them to his nerve endings. Jethro’s thrusts grew ever more frenzied, his cock thickening and his sac tight and aching. Vashti tangled her fingers in his hair and held on as her body shattered into orgasm, her body gripping him rhythmically and forcing him to join her. Panting, convulsed with pleasure, he buried his face in the curve of her neck, groaning as he emptied himself into her.
When he finally eased out of her and lifted her from the counter, Jethro held Vashti against him. The whirlwind of emotion coursing through him was like nothing he had ever experienced. What the hell was going on? This sense of completion went way beyond the fulfillment great sex—okay, amazing, earth-shattering sex—brought with it. This was a maelstrom of feeling that gripped him and flung him to the edge of euphoria. Whatever it was, Vashti was clearly feeling it, too. She clung to him as if she was buffeted by a storm and he was her sanctuary. If this woman was trying to drive him insane, she was doing a pretty good job. Already, the memory of the enchantment of being inside her was washing over him again. She was invading his senses. The smell of her hair. The feel of that silken skin. The honeyed taste of her lips. His body was beginning to crave her again, mere seconds after withdrawing from her.
“Are you going to tell me mortals do that all the time?” Her voice was slightly stunned. “That it meant nothing?”
He gave a shaky laugh. “If I did, I’d be lying.”
How could he explain his feelings to her when he didn’t understand them himself? Cursing the set of circumstances that had brought them to this point in time, Jethro wished he could turn back the clock. To that Alliance meeting when he had negotiated this mad deal. Not because he wished the last half hour of his life undone. On the contrary, he wanted to repeat it. Every day. Forever. But that wasn’t going to happen. This was Moncoya’s daughter, for fuck’s sake! She was probably going to one day marry some powerful Otherworld leader and preside over her own dynasty. Hell, she could end up reigning over the vampire territory as Tibor’s bride. They could demand Jethro’s head on a plate as a wedding gift and every undead being in Otherworld would be falling over themselves to provide it. I’d have walked away from this challenge if I’d known she could make me feel like this. Jethro had believed he was immune to the sort of lightning bolt that had struck Cal and Lorcan. He gave himself a mental shake. I am immune. Just because we had great sex doesn’t make us bonded together for life.
Now he had to convince himself of that, before explaining it to Vashti. Just as he was pursuing that line of thought, Vashti lifted her head. The usually clear, pale blue of her eyes was darker and stormier, the ring of fire muted.
“We should get ready to leave.”
Jethro nodded, releasing her from the circle of his arms and watching as she walked away from him toward the spiral staircase. He had been about to say the same thing. So where had this overpowering sense of disappointment come from?
* * *
Vashti gave Jethro an incredulous look as he locked up the house. His jaw was tight, his expression closed and completely unreadable. So, clearly we are going to continue as if nothing happen
ed. It was as if that tumultuous outpouring of passion between them had never taken place. Was he regretting it? It certainly looked that way. Vashti’s pride kicked up a notch. Who the hell does he think he is? Or is this what he does? Is he so used to having any woman he wants he doesn’t acknowledge his partner has feelings? True, she had been the one to withdraw from their embrace and walk away. But only because she had acted on the turmoil she sensed in him. Whatever inner battle he had been waging immediately after they made love, it appeared to have been resolved in favor of a return to taciturnity. Well, two could play at that game. No way was Vashti going to cling to him and try to cajole him into analyzing what had happened between them. No matter how much she wanted to.
Swinging her bag up onto her shoulder, she marched away from the house and out onto the jetty. By the time Jethro joined her, she had reached the foot-tapping stage of annoyance. Tanzi would have recognized the warning signs. Jethro barely glanced in her direction as he placed their bags in the boat. When he sprang lightly down into the little vessel and reached up a hand to help her down, Vashti ignored him.
He appeared not to notice, turning away to start the engine as she joined him in the boat. Once they set off, Vashti looked back at de Loix Island as it grew smaller in the distance. From the water, it was easier to appreciate the beauty of the cedar-log house, sitting high on the island, commanding views across the surrounding bay. Despite Iago having found them there, it was the first place in the mortal realm where she had felt safe. She had also learned a thing or two about herself. She experienced a faint tug of sadness knowing she would never return. Tanzi was right. We can care. We just have to be placed in the right situations to discover it. The thought no longer had the power to shock her. Instead it was strangely comforting.
Risking a glimpse at Jethro, she found he was staring at her. Even though his face remained impassive, there was a searing intensity in the dark depths of his eyes. He looked as though he was about to say something. Vashti’s breath hitched in anticipation...then the shutters came down and he looked away.
When they reached the boathouse, Jethro finally spoke. “Wait in the boat while I check the place out. Iago might have been here ahead of us.” When she opened her mouth to protest, his expression softened slightly. “Please? I know how the place should look. It will be quicker if I do it alone.”
Grudgingly, Vashti agreed. Jethro disappeared inside, reemerging again after a few minutes to signal everything was fine. Vashti tossed their bags up to him and this time allowed him to take her hand so he could help her onto the decking at the rear of the boathouse. Anything else would have resulted in an undignified scramble. “Has Iago been here?”
“If he has, I can’t see any signs. I need to check the bike over, but tampering with vehicles isn’t Iago’s style. It’s not theatrical enough.”
They went inside and Jethro wheeled the bike out onto the grass at the front of the boathouse. Vashti watched as he gave it a thorough examination before pronouncing it sound. She was struck again by his hands. She’d seen those hands do many things. They were strong and capable, nimble as they fiddled with the bike’s valves and gears. Vashti recalled their gentleness with Bertha. Her mouth went suddenly dry as she thought of those long fingers on her own body...she looked away abruptly as a wave of pure lust hit her.
Oblivious to what she was feeling, Jethro stowed their belongings in the cargo box and handed Vashti a helmet. She remembered he’d said he had something he needed to do before they went to see Gillespie. “Where are we going?”
“It’s something I have to do. A promise I made.”
That was it? That was all he was prepared to tell her? He was still being strong and silent? Of all the emotions Vashti was feeling, frustration was the one that fizzed to the surface. “Do you have to do this whole enigmatic thing every time?”
He frowned. “What do you mean?”
“I mean why do I have to pry everything out of you? Just for once can’t you volunteer something? A little snippet? Like where we’re going? What you’re doing? How you’re feeling—?”
She broke off as he grabbed her by her upper arm, and hauled her to him. “You want to know how I’m feeling? Okay, I’ll tell you. I’m feeling like my whole fucking world got turned upside down this morning. By you. Like I want you every minute, with every breath I take. I can’t stand to be near you and not touch you.” Just as Vashti relaxed against him, he let out a shuddering breath. “But I don’t want to want you. I don’t do needing. This is not who I am—”
His words were cut short as Vashti pressed her fingers to his lips. “I wanted information, not a grand declaration. This isn’t the time for soul searching. Not with Iago snapping at our heels. Let’s stick to where we’re going, shall we?”
Some of the anguish went out of his expression and he gave a shaky laugh. “What the hell are you doing to me?” The words came out as though torn from him against his will. “Emotional speeches are not my style. Not usually, anyway.” He released her, his expression still slightly disbelieving. “We’re going to visit a place near the old village of Head Tide. It will take too long to explain, but it’ll become clear when we get there. Now, can we get going before a deadly cobra emerges from the cargo box or Iago bursts out of the woods in his latest grizzly bear disguise?”
He didn’t add, “Or Moncoya turns up with his henchmen in tow?” He didn’t need to. They were both thinking it.
Once they were out on the open road, Jethro kicked the bike up a gear so the scenery flashed past. Vashti gave herself up to the sensation of speed and his nearness, splaying her fingers across the iron-hard ridges of his abdominal muscles. So you want me, but you’re fighting it? That’s okay. A smile touched her lips. We both enjoy a challenge, and we’re evenly matched. But just so we’re clear, my big, hot necromancer, there will only be one winner in this contest. And she’s sitting right behind you.
Chapter 9
The mansion resembled a child’s dollhouse with its square shape, symmetrical features and perfectly maintained white-clapboard exterior and extensive gardens. Beyond the house itself, Vashti glimpsed the sparkling curve of a river wending its way in the distance. It was an idyllic location and the sound of distant children’s laughter filling the air added to the perfection of the scene.
Jethro left the bike in a small-car parking area and they followed a path around to the front of the house. A brass sign beside the door welcomed them to Toussaint House. A small plaque underneath bore the words “Established 1863.”
“What is this place?” The atmosphere was so calm and tranquil Vashti almost felt she should whisper in case the sound of her voice shattered the peace.
“Toussaint House was originally the Toussaint Home for Young War Orphans. It was founded by Bertha during a civil war that tore this country apart.” Jethro rang a bell at the side of the door. “Rather in the same way we anticipate your dynasty could be devastated if the return of the challenger is not handled correctly.”
“Toussaint?”
“Bertha’s maiden name. Her family were great philanthropists.”
The sound of footsteps from within ended their conversation. The door was opened by a young woman whose face lit up when she saw Jethro. “Mr. de Loix, what a pleasant surprise!” Her hand went instinctively to her hair, smoothing it. “We weren’t expecting you.”
“This is a brief visit, Ella. I was in the area and I wanted to see if there was anything you needed.”
They stepped into a wide, bright hallway. A broad arch spanned the center and the dark wood antique furnishings included a huge grandfather clock that sat on the first turn of the galleried staircase. A series of framed portraits lined the walls. The atmosphere was calm and organized; the air redolent of furniture polish and baking.
“Toussaint House is one of the few remaining privately run orphanages in the state,” Jethro expl
ained to Vashti. “Ella is responsible for the day-to-day running of the home on behalf of the board of trustees.” Obviously feeling an introduction was required, he continued. “Miss—” he flashed a wicked grin in Vashti’s direction “—Moncoya here is an independent observer. She’s come along to assure herself I conduct all of my activities in an ethical manner.”
Ella, who was clearly devoted to her employer, bristled slightly and regarded Vashti with a look that was decidedly less than friendly. “You are welcome to observe any aspect of what we do here. Perhaps you’d like to see the children?” Without waiting for an answer, she led them through the hall and into a vast dining room. Opening the French windows at the rear of this room, Ella gestured to Jethro and Vashti to step forward onto the terrace beyond.
The gardens, which sloped down to the river’s edge, had been allowed to grow into a semblance of wilderness. Although there were pathways through the shrubs and trees, they were overhung with branches and resembled tunnels and mazes. Groups of children were engaged in various pursuits including climbing trees, wading at the water’s edge and cutting back some of the thicker shrubs.
“We have up to thirty children here at any one time, varying in age from between five to twelve years,” Ella explained as they observed the activity. “Our specialty is that we take children who are hard to place in foster care. Children who have, for whatever reason, been traumatized by their life experiences and may have developed behavior problems. Our goal is to place them with adoptive parents and we have a high success rate.”
“You don’t seem to use conventional teaching methods here,” Vashti commented as a group of children pushing carts piled high with leaves walked past them. They were red-faced with exertion and their laughter and chatter was infectious.