Seduction

by Laxmi Hariharan

  To his relief, Trinity turned and walked back to the examination table in the center of the room.

  Only when she’d slid onto it, and Vance had begun to examine her, did Neo move. He stalked over in the direction of the window and forced himself to stare at the sea in the distance. He had to find some semblance of balance.

  His dragon shifted, restless, urging him to turn around, to make sure he kept his eyes on her and the other male who was Vance. Just Vance. She couldn’t be in better hands.

  His damned animal twitched.

  He gripped the windowsill and leaned forward. The dried potted plant on the ledge trembled and slipped closer to the edge.

  He righted it.

  Legs apart to brace himself, he concentrated at a point on the horizon. He wasn’t going to peek over his shoulder. Wasn’t going to monitor the doc’s movements. She was in safe hands. It was inevitable Vance had to touch her to examine her, but the doc had better not cause her any pain. Anger licked down Neo’s spine.

  His dragon brushed up against his skin. He cricked his neck from side to side. Folded his arms across his chest.

  Vance made a humming sound under his breath.

  He hated it when doctors did that, like there was something they were seeing but didn’t want to reveal.

  There was nothing seriously wrong with her, was there? After all, she’d walked in here on her own, hadn’t she? He should have carried her here, lifted her off her feet and rushed her over right away to have her checked out. That fall she’d taken in the fight with the damned Fae had been nasty. Instead, he’d been too caught up in his own emotions, too angry at what she’d revealed to him. She’d said it just to draw a line between them, to try to disown that crazy chemistry between them. He’d fallen for it. He’d been too riled up to take care of her and… A gasp came from behind.

  That fast, all thought slid form his head. He hadn’t even realized he was striding across the floor, not until he stood over them, his gaze fixed on her pale face.

  He hated seeing her in pain. Hated that his dragon had faltered when he’d most needed his beast. When she needed him.

  If he could, he’d turn back time. He’d go right back to when he’d first seen that bastard Igor on stage…no, back to when he was a boy and just forced his beast to kill the Fae.

  “You okay, rockstar?” Vance stepped back from Trinity.

  Neo glanced at Vance, wondering if the doc echoing his previous remark was perhaps him finally getting back at Neo for being so overbearing.

  Vance had already turned away to rub his hands with alcohol from the container on the side table. He continued, “She’ll be fine, she heals faster than any shifter species I know.” He glanced at Trinity.

  She went rigid. A look passed between the doc and her.

  “What?” Neo didn’t bother to disguise his snarl. He wasn’t going to tolerate any secrets about her. He wanted—no, he needed—to know everything about her. “What’s wrong with her? What are you not telling me, Doc?” His pulse thudded at his temple.

  Vance turned to Neo. “That’s for Trinity to tell you.” The color slid from the doc’s skin, and his knees seemed to buckle.

  “Vance.” Neo gripped the doc’s arm and steadied him.

  Trinity slid to her feet and stepped forward to help.

  Vance seemed to catch himself. He stepped back from both of them and held his hands up.

  A surge of concern rushed to tighten Neo’s chest. “If Serena was here, she’d kick your ass. She’d make sure you took a day off or a week or as long as it took for you to recover from your exhausted state—”

  Vance held up his hand, palm faceup. His movements were abrupt, and his eyes burned with a fierce emotion.

  Neo had gone and put his big foot in his mouth all right. He of all people knew how much Vance missed the lion shifter who’d decide to up and go on a walkabout just a few weeks ago. For some reason, the two had never managed to get their relationship together, when clearly they cared about each other a lot. He also knew it was a topic that Vance didn’t particularly want to talk about.

  “Sorry, Doc.” He rubbed his palm over his face.

  “You’re apparently in much better shape than I thought, rockstar.” Vance’s voice sounded toneless, as if he was barely holding himself together.

  Neo winced. When the normally easy-going doc called him ‘rockstar’ he knew he’d managed to really piss Vance off. Nice, Neo, real nice.

  Apparently, meeting Trinity had turned him into a tactless wreck.

  Vance brushed past Neo to walk to the door. His normally laid back gait was stiff, almost military in its preciseness. He’d been a mercenary once, Neo recalled.

  “I’ll let Trinity tend to you,” Vance said. “Logan will be along to get you guys soon.”

  8

  Trinity

  Okay. Not what she’d expected. She had hoped to find a reason to get away from Neo. Vance had turned the tables on her. He’d conveniently drawn the attention off himself and shined the spotlight on her.

  It left her with one very dominant male who towered over her, filling the small room with his presence.

  “Explain.” He narrowed his gaze on her. “Why would the doc want you to take care of me?” His muscles tensed, and waves of tension poured off him.

  She found herself very much wanting to take a step back from him and stopped herself.

  She was used to dealing with strong males, wasn’t she? Her father, the Dark Fae soldiers, who she’d come up against many times…all of them paled in comparison to him.

  He leaned in close and bracketed her with his arms on both sides of the flat bed.

  She clenched her thighs, a low burn simmering between them. “I have to show you.” She flushed—and no, she hadn’t meant for it to come out that way. He tied her up in knots, that was the only explanation. She didn’t just go around saying whatever was in her head like that. She was used to being measured by her actions, by how she behaved. It was how she’d survived so far.

  “Oh yeah?” His chest rose and fell. His shoulders shut out the sight of everything else, until all she could see was him. All she could smell was his scent. All she wanted was him. No, she couldn’t have him—hadn’t she already established that?

  “You know, babe, I should be looking forward to this, but something tells me that I am not going to like what you’re going to do to me.” He slanted his head.

  His dominance pushed back against her chest, and the fine hairs on the back of her neck rose. She found it difficult to breathe. The sparks that had fanned to life since she’d set eyes on him now fanned into flames. She wanted to close the distance between them and bite down on his lips. She was strong enough to fend off Igor himself.

  Yet, faced with the dominance of this brooding dragon shifter, who gazed at her from below hooded eyes, who looked at her as if he’d like to eat her whole, she sensed her will crumble.

  She couldn’t give in. If she did, she’d never be able to hold her own against him.

  It took everything she had to fight the attraction that pulsed like a living thing between them. She put her palm flat to the sweat-soaked T-shirt covering his chest and pushed.

  To her surprise he straightened.

  She slipped off the bed and jerked her head toward the examination table again.

  He frowned.

  She didn’t back away.

  He turned and slid onto the surface.

  One side of his lips rose in a smirk, which she was coming to realize was his trademark. It was the face he wore when he performed.

  He was so tall, even sitting he had to stretch his legs out farther in front of him.

  The waistband of his pants dipped low. Her gaze slid over the concave V-shape of his lower abdominals, down to his powerful thighs. The cloth tented between his legs. Oh!

  He was big…

  Her cheeks flamed.

  As if noticing the object of her curiosity, and wanting to keep her attention there, he spread his l
egs wide. The muscles of his thighs flexed.

  Her breath caught, and she raised her gaze hastily, higher than that beautiful chest, to his throat. Wrong move. It only drew attention to the strong cords that rippled as he swallowed.

  Every part of him was sexy and so desirable, and...the woman in her simply wanted to submit and ask him to take her right then. That same innate feminine instinct insisted she hold back, that she go toe to toe with him. It was the only way he’d see her as his equal.

  She met his gaze. “Take off your T-shirt.” Her voice was rough.

  His eyes widened.

  She’d surprised him. Good. She had to keep one step ahead of him.

  He looked at her from under hooded eyes. “You got it, babe.”

  Oh, she hated it when he was all flippant. That careless charm hid a far more complex man, one whose feelings she was just beginning to sense.

  Reaching down, he grabbed the edge of his T-shirt and began to peel it off.

  The scent of him grew stronger, hot and heavy with an undercurrent of spice that hinted at his desire. It curled around her, pulled her, and tugged at her core. She grew wet. She wanted to mirror his actions, draw her dress down her shoulders, bare her breasts, and rub her aching nipples against his hard chest.

  She took a step forward in his direction, as if drawn by an invisible thread.

  He dropped the T-shirt on the table. The whisper of cloth on the surface rasped over her skin. Her nerve endings seem to come alive all at once.

  She drank up the sight of his bare chest, the tendons of his neck that stretched and bowed with each breath, the sculpted beauty of those hard planes, the rounded nubs of his male nipples…and oh!

  A pleased smirk jerked at his lips. “Like what you see, babe?”

  She sensed he knew exactly the kind of impact he was having on her, but she nearly forgave him his cocky assurance. He was magnificent. She could almost understand where that self-confidence was coming from. She should step back and turn and leave and get away while she could… Her fingers twitched, ached to reach out and touch the object of her fascination. She simply had to. “Can I?”

  “May I.”

  “What?” She sounded drugged, almost pleading.

  “Grammar, babe, grammar. My adoptive parents were of Italian origin, but don’t forget I grew up in New London, went to a public school after all.” A bead of sweat slid down the line that demarcated the perfection of his pecs.

  “May I…please?” Without waiting for his response, she slid forward into the space between his thighs. She reached for the ring that threaded his left nipple and dragged it down slightly.

  His shoulders bunched. The muscles of his stomach drew in. His chest planes seemed to harden even more. He froze.

  “Does it hurt? I didn’t mean to…” Even as she said it, she knew that wasn’t the case, and she really didn’t want to know the effect of her little experiment, and really, she had no idea what she was thinking anymore. She’d lost all capacity to string a coherent sentence together. She straightened and made to step back.

  His palms landed on her hips, and he held her in place. The heat of his fingers burned through the thin cloth of her shirt.

  “Don’t do that again, not unless you want to finish what you started, not unless you intend to replace your fingers with your mouth, got it?”

  His voice was husky, and all growly in a way that made her shiver. Her thighs clenched of their own accord. Her toes curled. The picture he’d painted was so tempting. No! No way was she going there, not then.

  She raised her head and met his gaze.

  Vertical irises stared back at her.

  His dragon was back and stalking her every move.

  She shuddered, desire rippling through her veins. This was…not good. She was there only to heal him. She had to focus on that. Right. “May I…finish what I started?”

  His eyes widened, the blue growing stormy. The scent of dragon smoke mixed with that fresh rainwater scent that was so him, grew heavy in the air.

  She raised her palms faceup. “Heal you, I mean.” She couldn’t help the little answering smirk that quirked one side of her mouth.

  A growl rumbled up. “Sassy.”

  She tilted her head and fluttered her eyelids.

  His throat moved as he swallowed, and his grip on her waist tightened just a fraction. “You may.” His tone had lowered another octave if that were even possible.

  His voice flowed over her like fresh cream. She wanted to lean in and lick him up. The unicorn energy inside her glittered and flowed, wanting to reach out to him and curl around him and…just be with him. Right. She straightened her back and shifted her gaze to his chest—that time she was a healer, and he was a person she needed to help. The fresh wounds were already closing among the litany of scars which marred those corded planes.

  Her stomach tightened. “This may hurt.”

  “Do your worst.” His tone was almost playful, his stance relaxed.

  He didn’t really know what she was going to do; perhaps he wasn’t even expecting her to heal him? Likely he thought all this was a charade. A lick of anger flicked down her spine.

  She drew in a breath and centered herself, half closed her eyes, and dropped into the energy of her unicorn. She drew on it, so it flowed toward her fingertips, up through her veins to the space between her eyebrows. Her third eye rippled.

  Her energy raced up her veins, her hands, to her palms, then breezed out to him

  She heard him gasp.

  His breath caught.

  The heat pulsed off her. It rushed toward the wounded parts of him that needed to heal the most. She sensed the gaping edge of his wounds begin to close.

  A groan welled up from him. She was hurting him.

  She tried to pull back but found she couldn’t. The light knew where it was most needed.

  All her empathy, her need to heal, the desire to soothe him, all of it ebbed out of her and into him. Intertwined with it was that essence which was uniquely her, the one she’d never used to heal another person. The part that she’d never revealed to another, gushed out to him. She was powerless to stop it.

  She sensed his dragon coiled just below the surface of his skin. The beast yearned for her, wanted to stretch out to touch her, but something stopped him. Something dark, a shadow that collared the animal and held it back.

  She swooped down on the restraint and broke it in one swift slice.

  The dragon reared up, and his essence poured out toward her.

  He was pure masculine energy, primal and raw, her exact opposite. He was strong, a predator, yet he’d never hurt her. He’d protect her.

  It was so strange, this confluence of feelings, a contradiction that pushed and pulled and drew her to him, promising her he was the one.

  He’d give her the structure she needed to be herself.

  No, it couldn’t be.

  Why else had she been drawn there to that rock concert, to the front of the crowd to see him? Something had drawn her there.

  Fear skittered down her spine, and her head spun.

  She had to get away from him—this was too much too soon. She wasn’t ready.

  She scrambled out of his psychic space. Her energy withdrew with her, and it slammed right into her, down her veins, retreated back into her heart and shut off.

  That feeling of weightlessness that came with merging with the light swept over her. Her legs trembled and she swayed.

  He gripped her waist. “You okay?” He sounded shaken.

  She swallowed. “Yeah.” The word came out on a soft breath. She opened her eyes.

  His forehead was furrowed, dark hair mussed up from taking off his shirt, and the column of his neck looked so strong she followed it down to the powerful planes of his chest.

  She shouldn’t touch him but she couldn’t stop herself from tracing the freshly healed skin that shined pale pink in the space between his scars.

  His gaze dropped to the unmarred flesh which replaced
the earlier wounds. “How did you do that?” His shoulders stiffened.

  The tension between them ratcheted up. Her palms tingled. Warmth suffused her skin. She flicked her tongue out to touch her suddenly dry lips. She was so close to the edge. If she took one step forward, she’d skin down a slippery slope from which there was no coming back. She couldn’t tell him everything…but she had to give him enough to satisfy his curiosity…to stop him from doing something that could well backfire and hurt him.

  “I…am a healer.” She forced her words out through her arid mouth.

  “She’s being modest.” Logan’s voice cut through the space.

  9

  Neo

  Neo looked from Logan to her. “What’s he talking about?” A strange feeling of cold grew around his chest. Whatever she was going to say, it wasn’t going to be good.

  She tugged her arm from his grip.

  He wouldn’t let go. “Tell me.”

  She lowered her chin. “My very presence pushes away the dark, disease, anything that hurts the mind or body.”

  Okay, so that kind of made sense, almost. “Unicorn’s healing powers are legendary…” His voice faded.

  “You are the light, aren’t you?” Logan’s voice was gentle, his gaze steady. He nodded toward the window.

  Neo turned to look.

  He wasn’t sure what he was seeing. The square of glass, the scene outside, the last rays of the sun flowing through, turning the room into shades of scarlet, and there in the corner, a bright yellow sunflower raised its head to the light.

  A ball of emotion clogged his throat. “You,” he forced out the word, “you did that? You brought the plant to life?”

  “Not consciously.” She coiled a strand of her hair between her fingers. “It’s my aura. Just being in the same space makes me reach out to help whatever is wanting in another.” She shuffled her feet. “It pushes out whatever is maleficent. Whatever is causing the blockage to light, I must reach out and dissolve it.” Her gaze flicked from him to Logan, who still stood just inside the room, before her attention dropped to the floor.