by Denise Lynn
She slapped at his hand. “Leave me alone.”
Braeden caught her hand midair. “You don’t want to make this physical.”
Alexia eyes widened at his warning. She raised her other hand.
In the blink of an eye, he had her pinned flat on her back. He straddled her, his feet hooked over her ankles and his hands holding her wrists to the bed alongside her head. Looming over her, he said, “I warned you. I’m stronger and quicker than you. You can’t win a physical battle with me.”
“So, instead, you’ll bully me.”
“If that’s what it takes to keep you from getting hurt, yes.”
“As if you care.”
“Is that what this is all about? Why should I care? You left me.”
“You quit caring long before I left.”
“I did? When?”
Her throat closed. She couldn’t do this. Not staring up at him. Not calmly, not rationally. Not without sobbing.
“Let me go, Braeden. Just let me go.”
“No. I told you not to do this. But you started it and this time we’re going to finish it.”
She squeezed her eyes closed and felt a tear slip down the side of her face.
“Cry all you want, Alexia.” He bounced her wrists on the bed. “But, damn it, tell me when I quit caring.”
“A lifetime ago.”
“Melodrama will get you nowhere. Answer me.”
“Before the accident.” Her chest constricted. Everything was measured by that twist of fate.
“What gave you that impression?”
“You were never around.”
“I was working all hours trying to open the ski resort in Switzerland.”
She knew that and she also knew it had been petty to have been so hurt by his absence, but…“Even when you were home all we did was argue.”
“Even when I tried to ignore you, who started those arguments?”
She had, but that was beside the point. “It was the only way I could get your attention.”
“You could have come with me. You knew that. But you insisted on staying in Boston.”
“I was pregnant.”
“You were hormonal.”
She opened her eyes and glared up at him. “That’s low. I couldn’t help it.”
“Low? I’d say running away was farther down the scale.”
“What did you want me to do?” Alexia’s voice echoed in her ears. She was nearly screaming. “You blamed me for the accident.”
Braeden released her wrists and sat up. “I never blamed you.”
“Yes, you did. You accused me of killing your child.”
“What the hell are you talking about? I never said that. I never thought that.”
The tears she had been fighting to keep inside slid down her cheeks. “Yes, you did. In the hospital. I heard you tell Danielle that I’d killed your baby.”
He moved off her and got up from the bed. “The only time Danielle was at the hospital was when you were still in the emergency room. Alexia, you were too out of it to even know your own name.”
“What’s that got to do with anything? My hearing was fine. I know what I heard.”
“No. What you heard was me telling Danielle that you were nearly killed. When you heard the words ‘my baby,’ it was Danielle asking me about the baby. At the time the doctors weren’t yet certain if he could be saved or not.”
Was he telling her the truth? Alexia tried to focus on that night. But everything was jumbled.
Before she could figure it out, he asked, “When you were released from the hospital, you shut me out completely. Is that why?”
“Partly. Yes. But—”
He walked toward the bedroom door, holding out his hand. “Enough. No more.”
Alexia stayed on the bed while he left the room. She didn’t know what to say or do. From the brief glimpse she’d had of his face before he turned away, she got the impression he was as upset as he was angry.
About what? Maybe if she gave him time alone, he’d be able to figure it out. She tossed the covers aside. No. Over and over again they’d let time alone come between them. He said they were going to finish this, and while he may have changed his mind, he was right. At the very least, they should try.
She quietly walked out to the living room and came to a dead stop when he walked out of his office with a sword.
Braeden caught the look of pure terror in Alexia’s wide-eyed gaze and lowered the sword to his side. “It’s not for you.”
She shook her head. “I didn’t think it was.”
Like hell she didn’t. “Go to bed.”
Without taking her eyes off him, she walked into the kitchen, putting the bar between them. “I thought you said we were going to finish this.”
He had no desire to continue the conversation. If he had any hope of getting the manual translated, he needed to maintain some level of distance from Alexia.
There was too much between them. Even just standing here in the same room with her, emotions threatened to choke him. He’d been through this once before. He wasn’t about to lose control and do something they’d both regret.
Braeden paused at the entry door. “I’ll be back later. Go to bed.”
“You’re just going to walk away?”
“Yes.” Without turning around, he added, “I had a good teacher.” Then he walked out the door and headed down to the basement.
He knew from past experience that some physical exercise would go a long way toward taming his growing unease. There was nothing like a sword fight to clear his head, even if it was with an imaginary foe.
As his vaporous wings glided through the wind, Nathan dismissed the previous coldness. One benefit of taking the form of an elements dragon was that he felt neither heat nor cold.
A quick sweeping circle outside the suite was all he needed to do to know that the Dragon had left Alexia alone. Nathan needed only a few moments to set the next phase of his plan into motion. He decreased his speed to a gentle drift until he landed on the balcony outside the bedroom.
Even though he risked detection by the mortal, he was confident she wouldn’t be able to see him. Once he shifted back to a more human, albeit invisible, form, he silently ordered, “Elsbeth, come to me.”
In less than a heartbeat his wife curled her arms about his neck. “You called, my love?”
He jerked her arms from around him and set her aside. “I need only a spell. One to make these two fall into each other’s arms.”
Haughty as ever, Elsbeth lifted her chin a notch and looked out toward the forest, asking, “And what do I get in return?”
Nathan narrowed his eyes and smiled. In his mind he conjured the image of him choking his darling wife to death. The vision instantly took form and the woman beside him gasped. When her eyes nearly bulged from her head and she clawed at the unseen hands around her neck, he whispered, “You get to live.”
Elsbeth nodded frantically and he released the spell. She quickly caught her breath and waved her hands in the air, chanting some nonsense about love, desire and devotion.
When she was done, he patted her hand. “You better hope that your spell will send these pawns into each other’s arms.”
Instead of answering, Elsbeth disappeared into the mists.
Braeden slipped back into the suite a couple of hours later, grateful that Alexia had gone to bed. While exhaustion made him less willing to argue, his workout had done little to quell the urge to pull her into his arms.
Unfortunately he couldn’t decide what he’d do once he got her there.
After cleaning and putting away his weapon, he approached the bedroom. If she was asleep, he knew that he could set a bomb off next to the bed and she wouldn’t wake up. But he also knew that if she’d waited up for him, she’d be good and riled.
He paused outside the open door, breathing a sigh of relief. Alexia was sound asleep.
Once he’d showered and slipped into a clean pair of sweatpants and T-shirt, Brae
den paused at the edge of the bed.
Soft light from the bedside night-light fell across Alexia’s face. The puffiness of her eyes caused him the first pang of guilt since she’d arrived at the Lair.
She’d cried herself to sleep. Braeden stroked a knuckle gently across the velvety softness of her cheek. Still sleeping, Alexia turned her face into his touch. He reluctantly withdrew his hand.
He didn’t doubt for an instant that she, too, carried plenty of demons inside, old and new. While he admittedly was partially to blame for the old ones, she was the only person responsible for the new ones.
Alexia rolled over, snuggling deeper into the blankets. Unwilling to wake her up, Braeden quietly left the bedroom, leaving the door ajar behind him.
After getting something to drink, he stretched out on the sofa, thankful that Cam had talked him out of leather. Braeden wasn’t certain exactly what the fabric was, but at least it was soft and, as Cam had insisted, it was comfortable enough to sleep on if necessary.
At the time Braeden had laughed at the thought. Why would he ever need to sleep on the sofa? He frowned. Had Cam known this was going to happen?
No. His brother wouldn’t withhold that kind of information. Would he?
Braeden shook his head. Obviously he was more tired than he thought. He had no reason to doubt his brother. His distrust was reserved solely for Alexia.
What was he going to do about her? He didn’t trust her at all. And while he was angry and frustrated with her and her actions, he realized that he didn’t exactly hate her, either.
No matter what, in the end, this maddening woman was still his mate. Logic railed against that fact. A part of him wasn’t yet willing to let go completely. He needed to find a way to shut off that part of him.
But until then and until they could change their situation, he would protect her—even if she didn’t like his methods. Her likes or dislikes weren’t his concern. His most pressing priority was the safety of those on Mirabilus.
If, as he believed, that safety was dependent on translating the manual, he would keep his anger reined in as best he could until Alexia finished the work.
The sound of muffled crying reached him. Unable to ignore the unwanted tugging at his heart, he got up and glanced into the bedroom.
Since she appeared to still be sleeping, he backed away and paced the living room, waiting for her cries to cease.
How many times had he done this before? After the accident he spent many nights pacing the floor outside their bedroom, uncertain what to do. He had tried to be understanding and kind, but since she’d refused to talk to him, it had gotten him nowhere. So he’d tried to be demanding and forceful, gaining only an empty house.
Once Alexia quieted, he went back to the sofa. Stretched out on his back, staring up at the ceiling, he dozed on and off, wondering how to keep the warring inside him at bay.
He needed to stay angry for his own self-protection and sanity.
“Braeden.”
He jerked more awake at the whisper in his ear. “Alexia?”
“Braeden, I need you.” Her breath was hot against his skin. Her touch skimmed down his chest, setting his blood on fire.
“What are you doing?”
She kissed his cheek and slid her hand further down his stomach. “Don’t you want me?”
His physical reaction had nothing to do with it. Of course he wanted her. What man wouldn’t? But what he wanted more was to know why she was acting so strangely.
Instead of following logic and pushing her away, he made what he knew could be the biggest mistake of his life—he closed his eyes and rolled onto his side to make room for her on the sofa. “More than anything. Come here.”
She lay against him, her legs entwined with his, her lips against his. He slipped one arm around her and the other beneath her, then stopped.
Something didn’t feel right. He stroked a hand down her back, across her hip. It was his wife, all right. He’d long ago memorized every hill and valley of her body. Yet his wife never would have come to him like this.
He searched the suite with his mind. While he found no one, his senses warned of an intrusion.
Braeden frowned. Had someone been here while he’d been in the basement?
He focused on Alexia. Her subconscious was sound asleep. Yet her physical body performed flawlessly. Her expert touch as she slid a hand beneath the loose waist of his sweatpants drew a gasp from him.
Braeden sucked in a breath in an attempt to calm his raging libido. Alexia was rarely this demanding. And considering that neither one of them was too thrilled to see the other, he doubted his wife was acting under her own volition.
He ignored his oath to stay out of her mind and probed quickly, catching the hint of an unfamiliar power coursing through her. Alexia was completely and totally uninitiated. She had no powers other than those he gave her on occasion. He’d given her nothing since her return.
Meaning someone else had.
There was one way to find out. He leaned into her. “Oh, baby, I want you so bad.”
Tipping her head up, she pressed her lips to his, “I want you, too.”
Braeden groaned, then whispered, “There’s not enough room here.”
She laughed softly. “There’s always a bed.”
He paused. It would be so easy to take advantage of the offer. Even though his tightly strung body was more than ready to oblige, his stomach clenched at the idea.
This was not his wife. He needed to remember that this was nothing more than someone using his wife for their own ends.
If he wanted to free her of this spell without causing any lasting harm, he needed to make certain he didn’t do something they would both regret later. Somehow he had to get her back into her bed and slip away before she awoke.
While he hesitated Alexia slinked down his chest, her lips teasing as she went.
He swallowed a curse. Were they watching? Listening? Waiting to see what would happen?
Regrets be damned. He wouldn’t be bested in his own domain.
He sat up, drawing her with him. “It’s been too long. Let’s go.” He rose, picking her up as he did so, cradling her in his arms. He could feel her breath on his neck, her fingers in his hair. If he wasn’t careful, he could easily fall victim to the lust flaring to life inside.
As quickly and quietly as possible, he walked down the hallway and into the bedroom. With luck and a little manipulation on his part, none of this would pass to her conscious mind in the morning.
When he bent to place her on the bed, she clung to him, pulling him down alongside her. Before he could extricate himself, she jerked at his sweats and ran her tongue across her lips.
Sweat beaded on his forehead. If he yelled at her, it would only awaken her and then he’d have to admit that he hadn’t kept her safe—and give an explanation he didn’t want to give at the moment.
Mustering all the thought processes he still had, Braeden pushed her onto her back, pinning her to the mattress with his body. “Slow down. We have all night.”
His assurance did little to soothe her. “I need you. Now.” Before he could form an answer, she caught his lips with hers.
She tasted like Alexia, smelled like her. He cupped her cheek, and the flesh beneath his touch was just as soft. Braeden fought the groan building in his chest.
She uncurled her arms from around his neck and shimmied her silky camisole up her body, breaking their kiss long enough to slide it over her head before dropping it on the floor.
He took the opportunity to push himself upright. Straddling her on his knees, Braeden silently ordered, “Release my wife. Now.”
Without warning the being lashed out, using Alexia as a weapon. She clawed at his face, her fingernails gouging the flesh. Before he could grab her wrists, she clawed him again. This time his blood trickled hot from the deep gashes on his cheek.
In mere seconds Alexia fell back onto the bed. Remnants of a shadow swirled from her, then raced toward the balcony
door to disappear into the darkness of the night.
Braeden did a quick check to make certain that whatever presence had been in the suite was now gone. He glanced at the balcony, whispering, “I’ll deal with you later.”
Right now he needed to get out of the bedroom before waking Alexia. But as he moved to get up from the bed, she gasped. “What are you doing?”
Not wanting to make this memory any more tangible than it was, he leaned over her, stroked her cheek and lied, “Hush. It’s just a dream, Alexia.”
Easily susceptible to his powers, she closed her eyes, giving him the chance to make a hasty exit.
Chapter 7
Alexia opened her eyes and groaned. If she didn’t know better, she’d swear that somebody had used her as a punching bag last night. She ached from head to toe.
She sat up slowly and squeezed her eyes closed against the pounding in her temples. She hadn’t had that much wine. There was no reason for her to feel this bad.
With an effort she rose. Feeling drugged, she staggered to the bathroom. After flipping on the shower, she rested her forehead against the cool tile and let the hot water pour over her.
Obviously something had happened last night, but for the life of her she couldn’t remember what. Braeden had brought her bags of new clothes. They’d eaten. Talked. Argued. After he’d stormed out with his sword, frustration and confusion overwhelmed her until she’d cried herself to sleep.
While that might account for her headache, it didn’t explain the rest.
Strange and distorted memories flitted through her mind. Her breath hitched. What had she done? Taking a slow, deep breath, she calmed her racing heart. Nothing. She hadn’t done anything except sleep.
Then why did she vaguely remember bits and pieces of joining him on the sofa? And later of scratching his cheek?
Alexia shook the water from her face. No. It was nothing more than a strange dream.
It had to be.
Otherwise she wouldn’t be able to face him again.
What in the world would have made her do anything that…stupid and outrageous? How was she going to find out if she even had?