Jade might have thought him emotionless, but she knew him too well. It was a mask he hid behind, and she suspected he was fighting some emotion he feared might overcome him if he weakened.
“Her husband was seriously ill and given mere months to live,” he finally said.
Jade huffed a loud breath. “She was married?”
“Yes. She was caring for him, and would not allow me to stay in her home, so she provided me with paid lodgings and spare clothing. She visited me with food and supplies until I was taken by the crystal.”
“And her husband was dying?”
“Yes. That is what she told me.”
“Bloody hell. Pieter’s so-called omnipotent goddess really stuffed up big time with that match. Talk about bad timing and emotional baggage and really, really bad, uh, timing.” She thought hard for a moment. “I don’t suppose you know the name of the hotel or motel or wherever it was you were staying?”
“No. She transported me to the place by a… a… car in the dead of night. And she extracted my promise to stay inside and unseen. I understood her need for secrecy and did as she requested.”
“For an entire month?”
“For an entire month. I saw her every few days—whenever she could get away—and I was content with what she offered me.”
Curiosity pricked her. “So did you and Francesca… you know… have sex?” And if so, how many times? It wouldn’t have been three because then Francesca would have bonded with him…. Or maybe she’d gotten the wrong impression and they had bonded. In which case, why weren’t they together now? What had gone wrong?
Something reared its ugly head—a tight feeling in her chest and a burning in the pit of her stomach that she absolutely refused to call jealousy. She didn’t want to think about Malach doing the things he’d done last night to Francesca—or any other woman for that matter.
“Twice.” Malach’s sharp reply cut through Jade’s increasingly dark thoughts. “Despite our mutual attraction, I respected her choice and did not press her further.”
She’d only given in twice, and managed to resist Malach’s raw sexuality for an entire month? A tough woman this Francesca. Or maybe she’d simply been determined not to screw up her life any more than it already had been thanks to the Crystal Guardian choosing her for a Crystal Warrior.
Jade abruptly realized that despite his outward composure, Malach’s jaw had clenched and his hands were fisted. He was clearly unhappy with this line of questioning, which must be dredging up painful memories better left buried. She was being an insensitive bitch.
“At the very least we should be able to track down a phone number and possibly an address,” she said, hoping to make amends. Hoping to give him something to focus on other than the past, and the horror of the prospect of imprisonment in the crystal again.
Arctic-blue eyes, awash with hope, sought hers. “I could talk to Francesca?”
She heard the hope in his voice and the burning in her stomach morphed to an ugly knotted lump. She cleared her throat, swallowing her unreasonable jealousy. “Quite possibly. If her number’s listed, it might even be as simple as ringing International Directory Services. What’s her full name?”
“Beryl Francesca Laureano. You would do this for me, Jade? Help me find Francesca?”
“Of course. Why wouldn’t I?”
Because you should keep Malach for yourself. You could fall in love with a man like him, so why shouldn’t you have him? She banished that little voice in her head and refused to heed it.
“And then, once this month-long deadline business is up and I’ve finished your portrait, you can find a way to be with Francesca again. Presuming she hasn’t re-married or something.”
As soon as she’d uttered the words she wished she could take them back. She hadn’t meant to be cruel. And now she was forced to watch, up close and personal, as a man’s dream shattered and his hope died. The light in his eyes dulled and he seemed to age before her eyes.
“She might not be married,” she offered in a lame attempt to make amends. “She may still be single and available. Don’t give up hope.”
But he had. He’d covered his face in his hands and sat slumped forward, with his elbows resting on his thighs.
She hated what she’d done to him—hated herself for the pain she’d caused him. She rose and knelt before him, grasping his hands, desperate for him to listen. “Malach? Look at me. Don’t give up.”
He raised his head and the despair shadowing his eyes made her flinch. “’Tis not the possibility that Francesca has remarried that concerns me. ’Tis the Testing. If we do not pass it, Jade, I will once more be condemned to the hell of the crystal. I have vowed that I will take my own life rather than be imprisoned a third time, but I fear to the depths of my soul that the old man’s spell will take even that choice from me.”
A shiver of unease slid down Jade’s spine. “Hold on. Run that last bit by me again. Pieter mentioned a test back at the hotel, I think. And in his letter, too. What exactly is this Testing business?”
“I do not know exactly because last time there was no Testing. And from what the Guardian has told me, I now know that was due to the bond between Francesca and I being incomplete because we were not intimate a third time. Thus, the eve of the month deadline, I remember being unable to sleep, and then in the blink of an eye I was in Halja—what you would call Hell. The crystal had taken me again.”
She squeezed his hands, projecting reassurance. “Okay. We can do this. All we have to do is pass this Test and free you from the crystal’s influence. Then afterward, I’ll help you find Francesca and you can go back to her. Simple.”
He laughed unhappily. “I do not believe it will be at all simple, Jade. This time Pieter’s goddess chose you for me. If Francesca and I were fated to be together, surely his goddess would have sent me to her instead of you?”
“Oh. Good point. Sooo, you think we’re stuck with each other, huh? Whether we like it or not?” Deep inside her, that insistent little voice rejoiced and she quashed it.
“I am afraid so. I am sorry, Jade.”
She shrugged off his apology.
“I believe it bodes ill that we are so willing to give each other up, despite the bond being activated. In mere weeks our bond will be Tested by forces beyond our ken. How do we expect to succeed if we do not truly love each other, if we do not truly wish to spend our lives together?”
Spending the rest of her life with him? Truly falling in love with him? Yikes. Neither were possibilities she’d considered. Falling in love with any man, let alone a man from another world twenty years her senior, wasn’t a possibility she could consider. Not when Mei must be her first and only priority.
Crap. They were so screwed. “Having terrific sex isn’t going to be enough, huh?”
His attempt at a smile was more of a grimace. “I do not believe so.”
The silence stretched until Jade could bear it no longer. She slapped her palms on her thighs and pushed to her feet. “There’s no point fretting about this. I’ll think of something. There’s gotta be a way ’round this. But for now, we’ve got work to do.”
He dragged his fingers through his cropped hair. “What work would that be, exactly?”
“Well, if I’m to justify earning this twenty-five grand, I’d better get started right away on some preliminary sketches. I’ve got to work tomorrow, so time isn’t on my side. Hope you’re feeling model-worthy.” Her mind flooded with visions of her ordering Malach to contort himself into various poses. Funny how he was invariably nude….
She gave herself a mental shake. She was supposed to be painting a portrait. Of his face. So there was no reason for him to remove his clothes.
Rats.
She swallowed and pulled herself together. Like, before he cottoned on to the dopey expression on her face and asked her what was up… and she told him exactly what she’d like to be up. “How about you just—” she fluttered her hands at him “—I don’t know, do what you�
��d usually do and I’ll follow you round for a bit.”
Malach’s eyebrows drew together in a bemused frown. He didn’t have a clue what she was talking about.
“I need to observe you and sketch you before I paint you,” she said. “Otherwise, I won’t see the essence of who you are. I don’t want to paint a static portrait of you—anyone who fancies themselves an artist could do that. I want the real you captured on canvas.”
“This is important to you?”
“Yes. Otherwise, why bother? I may as well just snap a photo of you, enlarge it and copy it onto canvas. Where’s the artistry in that?”
“Very well. What do you want me to do?”
She wrinkled her nose. Good question. Despite his modern attire, he gave off “other-wordly” vibes. His accent and strangely formal way of speaking, and especially his eerie capacity to be so very still and then explode into movement, marked him as alien. Different. He was a man who would command attention merely by entering a room.
What the heck was she going to do with him for an entire four weeks? Jade felt the tight squeezing behind her eyes that signaled a headache. “What would you normally be doing at this hour of the morning?”
His right hand clutched at his hip, as though reaching for something familiar. He tensed, his jaw clenching and working, big body stiffening. His gaze flicked to her face and he shuttered his eyes, shutting her out. He sucked in a deep breath, held it, and as he exhaled he visibly relaxed, his palm smoothing down his denim-clad thigh.
When he opened his eyes, he was in full command again. “I would be engaging in swordplay.”
“Right. Swordplay. Of course you would. Sorry, but that’s sooo not going to be an option. Anything else?”
“Honing my weapon.”
His weapon…. Oh, he meant the sharp, dangerous one that killed people, not that other portion of his anatomy he’d recently used to such devastating effect. It’d sure been honed all right. She bit her lips and lectured her wandering mind to quit that train of thought immediately. “Anything else?”
“Exercising my mount.”
She shook her head. “Not going to happen.”
“Hand-to-hand combat.”
She opened her mouth to automatically nix that suggestion too, when an idea bloomed. “How good are you at hand-to-hand combat?”
“As I mentioned previously, I was a tehun-Leader.”
Evidently that was supposed to be self-explanatory. Oookay then. “I’m guessing you’re pretty good, then?”
“Yes.”
No false modesty, just an absolute belief in his abilities.
“I might just be able to do something about that one. Leave it with me, okay?”
His eyebrows quirked and from the eager light in his eyes, his interest was piqued.
She decided to put him out of his misery. “I’m not promising anything, but I might be able to get you a few sessions with someone who could teach you a thing or two. If you’re as good as you think you are.”
“I am.”
Mmm. Jade wondered if Grandmaster Dai-soon, Lìli’s old friend, would agree. Or whether Malach would be treated to a harsh lesson in humility sometime in the near future. She made a mental note to take along her sketch book. For a man as innately confident and physically competent as Malach, a serving of humble-pie might make for some really interesting inner conflicts that would translate powerfully onto canvas.
Her stomach chose that moment to rumble loudly, reminding her she’d neglected to eat breakfast. “Hungry?”
He nodded.
“C’mon then.”
As she wandered back into the lounge with Malach trailing along behind her, she smelled the delicious aroma of fresh made coffee.
Mei was lounging on the divan by the bay window, busily licking toast crumbs from her fingers. “Breakfast’s ready. Grace said to help yourselves. She figured we’d have an extra so she’s made plenty.”
Bless you, Grace. Jade grabbed Malach’s arm and towed him toward the kitchen where they found their Angel of Mercy smearing hot buttered toast with honey.
Yum! Her favorite. She made a grab for the toast, only to have her hand smacked.
“Oi! Hands off. Get your own.” Grace cut her gaze to Malach and smiled sweetly at him. “What do you fancy?”
Malach pulled up mid-step. “Ah…. What do I fancy?” The gaze he slid to Jade’s was pleading.
She hid a grin. “Man up. You’re on your own.”
“To eat, I mean.” Grace rolled her eyes.
“I am not certain.” Malach inhaled deeply, his nostrils flaring. As though pulled by unseen forces, he followed his nose—literally—to the freshly plunged coffee sitting on the bench. He picked up the plunger and sniffed appreciatively. “Ahhh.”
“Er, you’re not thinking of drinking it straight out of the plunger, are you?” The shrillness of Grace’s voice suggested she was harboring visions of second degree burns.
Malach snorted. “Nay. I remember Francesca making me this beverage in this way. She called it a press.”
“I think Americans call it a French press,” Grace said.
“Ah yes. I believe that is the expression she used. I remember that it was not as good a brew as gahvay, but beggars can ill afford to be picky.” He snagged a spare mug from the bench, and poured it full of coffee.
Jade watched him inhale, drawing the aroma deep into his lungs. Then he gulped a mouthful of scalding hot, black coffee and sighed with pleasure. He took another gulp. And then another, and Jade was mesmerized by the rippling of his Adam’s apple as he swallowed, and the pleasure in his expression as he savored the bitter brew.
“Ahem!”
Jade’s gaze shot to Grace. She’d obviously been watching Jade watching Malach, for she grinned and winked. But not at Jade, at Malach, who’d polished off his caffeine fix and was now observing them both. A smile played across his lips.
Jade felt herself flush. Desperate to divert the attention from her flushed face she said, “Pour me a cup of that, will you, Malach?”
He inclined his head. “How do you take… it?”
That slight pause cued Jade that the double entendre was entirely deliberate.
Grace snickered. “As if you don’t know already,” she muttered.
This time Jade’s flush felt like she’d copped a really bad dose of sunburn.
“She takes ‘it’ with milk, no sugar,” Grace said. “No sugar because she’s sweet enough already. Don’t you think so, Malach?”
“Indeed,” he said, holding Jade’s gaze for a long moment before he topped up the mug with milk and offered it to her.
“Aw, she’s blushing like a schoolgirl,” Grace said, smearing another piece of toast with honey.
Jade snatched the mug from Malach’s hands and plonked it down on the table, sloshing hot coffee over her fingers. “Yeow!”
Before she could even finish shaking of the hot droplets, Malach had grabbed her hand. He checked the burn and raised her hand to his lips. He sucked her forefinger and index finger into his mouth, all the while holding her gaze.
She couldn’t look away. Now it wasn’t just her fingers and face that burned. Her whole body felt hot and achy as he drew her fingers deeper into his mouth, suckling them gently.
Jade vaguely noted Grace’s chuckle. “Not exactly the recommended way to heal a burn,” she said.
Malach released her fingers and licked the heat-reddened ball of her thumb. Turning her hand palm up, he kissed the skin, a feather-light caress that seemed somehow to be directly connected to the pleasure-centers of her brain.
God. How did he do that? How could he affect her so damned much?
She wrenched her hand from his grasp and shook it. Then she snatched the piece of toast Grace had just begun to raise to her mouth, grabbed the mug of coffee, and bolted for the lounge.
Mei eyed her, her nose crinkled with curiosity. “You all right, J?”
She nodded, chest heaving, too breathless to speak.
“Make sure you run cold water on that burn!” Grace called from the kitchen.
“You burned yourself?”
“It’s nothing, Mei.” She made a concerted effort to regulate her breathing. “Just a splash of coffee. See?” She perched on the end of the divan and crammed enough of the pilfered toast into her mouth that she could hold out the hand for inspection.
Mei turned her hand this way and that. “Doesn’t look serious. You sure you’re okay? You look all hot and bothered.”
Jade nodded and tugged her hand back to deal with the piece of toast sagging from her mouth before she dripped honey all over the place. And then Grace’s voice, raised enough that it clearly carried, snagged her full attention.
“I’m Jade’s best friend and I’m very protective of her, Malach. So about what went on between the two of you last night. You obviously had sex, so I only have one thing to say to you.”
Jade froze.
“And what might that be?” Malach was silly enough to ask.
“Hurt her and I’ll have your dangly bits.”
“My dangly bits?”
“Your testicles. I’ll geld you with whatever blunt instrument is handy and force-feed them to you for breakfast.”
“I believe that is considerably more than one thing.”
“I’m not bluffing. I have medical training. Understand?”
“Understood.”
Oh. My. God. Jade strained her ears, expecting Grace to have more to say on the subject, but when silence reigned in the kitchen she didn’t know whether to be relieved or horrified.
Mei touched her arm. Jade jumped. She’d completely forgotten her sister.
“That went quite well, I think,” Mei said, straight-faced.
“I… uh…. Yes, it did. I have something I, uh, have to do now.” She fled for the safety of her bedroom.
She closed the door behind her and sank onto her bed. Miraculously, she’d not spilled a single drop of coffee. Her hands shook as she sipped from the mug and ate the rest of her toast, chewing meditatively, heedless of crumbs.
By the time she’d finished her breakfast, she had a plan.
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