A Million Different Ways (A Horn Novel Book 1)

by Dangelico, P.

  The curtains were wide open. He turned off the lamplight, and a full moon bathed the room in blue shadows. Eyes locked on mine, he stood in front of the window and pushed down his pants. My heart skipped a beat. The magnificence of the moment stole my breath away. The moonlight traced the silhouette of his nakedness as if he had stepped out of my dreams. Imperfect––though perfect to me.

  He pulled me out of bed and grabbed the edge of my nightgown, lifted it slowly over my head, deliberately drawing out the sensation of his warm fingers grazing my cool skin. Then he hooked the sides on my not-so-bad panties with his fingers and pulled them off. When he was done, we stood before each other naked, two people not wanting to need one another yet wanting each other desperately. I knew then I was in serious trouble.

  His passion filled eyes never left mine as he sat in the chair and guided me to stand between his thighs. I wove my fingers through his hair and scratched his scalp with my short nails. His thick lashes fluttered and a relaxed sigh escaped his lips, the hardness gone from his features.

  “You’re so fucking beautiful…all I think about is being inside of you.” The murmur rippled across my skin. With deliberate patience, he kissed a path from my navel to my expectant nipple, circling the distended tip with his tongue and blowing on it, clamping down hard enough to send a jolt of pleasure racing to the peak of my thighs.

  I bit the inside of my cheek trying to stifle a moan. My lids grew heavy. I struggled to keep my eyes open as my attention starved body soaked up every bit of sensation. He stroked the seam of my sex and dipped into my body with infinite patience, urging me closer with a gentle caress of my rear end. A finger slipped between my cheeks, unannounced, and brushed over the highly sensitive area. A thrill of sensation shot through me.

  I grabbed his erection at the base and stroked him. A slow hiss escaped his lips as my thumb spread pre-cum over the sensitive crown. Wrapping his hand around mine, he stopped me and handed me a condom fished out of his pants.

  With warm anticipation, he watched my trembling hand roll the condom on. I straddled him and slowly sank down, the heavy penetration stretching me until he was so deep I could barely move. “Let me,” he whispered. My eyes glazed over from the overwhelming sensation. His hands cradled my face and his lips caught at mine.

  Only him––nothing else existed. The way he felt inside of me, the sound of him, the taste of him. It was all consuming. And he was equally present in the moment, making me feel needed, treasured––my pleasure his only concern. It destroyed me. An arrow to my Achilles.

  He began rolling his hips in hard, shallow thrusts, grinding against me. When I matched his effort, he buried a harsh grunt into the curve of my neck. I urged him on but he forced me with his body and his burning gaze to submit. Until his lips command silently. Now, Vera. Now! Teetering on the tipping point, I couldn’t quite get there, sweet oblivion maddeningly out of reach.

  “Sebastian––” His thumb skated lightly over my swollen clit and pleasure shot outward to every point in my body. Placing his hand over my mouth, he muted my scream. Then he gripped my hips and brought me down hard, shoving himself even deeper; a tremor subjugating his powerful frame as, at last, he found his own release.

  We sat entwined and held each other tightly for a long time afterwards. Neither one of us wanted to break off the intimacy. Don’t let go, I wanted say but didn’t. Instead, I hid my face in the curve of his neck and breathed in his comforting scent while his fingers stroked the rungs of my spine.

  A wave of wistfulness broke over me. Besieged with all this closeness, my resolve was crumbling fast and caring for him filled me with dread. I was petrified of what would become of me once it was over. I wiped my face of emotion before I looked at him.

  “Come back to my room with me,” he softly pleaded. I shook my head and his expression hardened instantly. “Vera––” He could even make a whisper sound menacing––so mercurial, my tender, despotic lover.

  “No. I mean it, Sebastian. You have to go.” I’m scared. I’m in danger of losing myself. I tried to get off his lap but he held onto my hips.

  “Why are you doing this?”

  “I’m not doing anything. I have to get to sleep.”

  His solemn eyes studied me as if he could find a secret backdoor to my mind that would reveal all my thoughts and intentions. Instinctively, I knew that if I yielded, he would be forever riding roughshod over me. I held his gaze until his hands rose in surrender. When I stood, a burning sensation made me wince and his imperious scowl made its first appearance of the night.

  “Honeymoon fever,” I explained. “Happens when you haven’t had sex in a long time…then have a lot of it.” My smile did nothing to temper his irritation. He jerked the condom off.

  “Come to my room and take a bath,” he said in a voice tight with concern.

  “Go,” I ordered, his pants hanging from my extended hand.

  We stared at each other in a silent battle of wills. I could practically see the wheels spinning, his predatory mind calculating the cost to profit ratio. He was clearly not accustomed to being told no, or accepting it as an end. His lips thinned and his eyes narrowed. He sat down on the bed and shoved his pants on without care.

  Suddenly feeling shy, I turned my back to him and slipped on my nightgown. Before the unease could find traction, he was holding me. His arms wrapped around me from behind and pulled me into the shelter of his body. Relieved, I leaned against him, closed my eyes, and savored the quiet comfort of his arms.

  His soft lips hovered near my ear as he spoke. “When these people leave, you and I are going to have a long talk.”

  “There’s nothing to talk about.”

  He placed his hand over my mouth and slapped my rear end, a muffled yelp jumping from my lips. “You bet your sweet, sweet ass there is,” he stated with total certainty.

  After planting a loud kiss on the side of my throat, he let go. I was instantly cold and lonely, already missing his touch, before he even closed the door behind him. Alone in the moonlight, I stared at the door and rubbed my stinging rear end, wondering how I ever thought I could manage this man.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Mrs. Redman entered the bedroom as I fluffed the last of the pillows on the bed. It may have been my imagination but it felt like the temperature suddenly dropped about 30 degrees. An arctic chill seemed to follow her everywhere she went. She stood in the doorway wearing tennis whites and a scheming gaze. Large, dark sunglasses sat on top of her head forgotten.

  “Oh good, I was wondering how long it would take you to get around to my room.”

  I stiffened at the backhanded remark. “I came as soon as I was told, madam. I was busy with the other rooms, and there was a lot to do.” It had taken me more than two hours to restore some order to her bedroom. Clothes were strewn about everywhere, as if a tornado had ripped through. The tornado was currently inspecting me from head to foot in a not-too-subtle manner that made me uneasy. Actually, she made everyone uneasy, including her own son. I couldn’t get out of there fast enough and moved towards the door to exit.

  “What’s your name, sugar?”

  I paused. No way to avoid this. “Vera.”

  “Vera, what a sweet name. How long have you lived in Switzerland?”

  “Six months.”

  “You’re here illegally.”

  It wasn’t even a question. The blood in my veins turned to ice. I didn’t answer right away. She waited me out with a fixed, disingenuous smile on her line-free face.

  “I have a medical degree. I’m waiting to hear back from hospitals about their residency programs.”

  “Isn’t that charming, but you’re still here illegally. Am I wrong?”

  I could hear my teeth grinding. “No.”

  “You seem like an intelligent woman, so I’ll get straight to the point. I see the way you look at my son, and I don’t care for it.”

  “I don’t know what you mean.” Although the heat crawling up my neck demonst
rated, without a doubt, that I did.

  “Oh, I think you do, and I don’t blame you, not a bit. He’s stunning. You’d have to be as blind as Helen Keller not to notice.”

  “I have quite of bit of work to do,” I said, moving forward.

  She smiled at my snippiness. “I certainly hope you don’t have designs on my son.”

  I flushed an especially deep shade of scarlet. “I have no idea what you’re referring to Mrs. Redman. Now if you’ll excuse me.”

  “Let me spell it out for you then. He’s beautiful and richer than 40 other billionaires on the Forbes 100. He is out…of your…league. You two don’t even belong on the same planet. My son has a bleeding heart. He needs protectin’ from someone like you.”

  My stomach sank to my feet. Someone like me? I tried escaping before she could land another blow. To no avail. As I passed her, she wrapped her bony manicured fingers around my arm in a surprisingly firm grip.

  “Leave him alone.”

  I jerked my arm out of her grasp. “I’ve never done otherwise,” I disputed. My voice was surprisingly steady considering everything else was in turmoil. I forced myself to measure my steps all the way down the hall. But once I was out of her sight, I bolted downstairs, my feet moving as quickly as the thumping of my heart.

  Luckily, everyone in the kitchen was too busy to notice my distress. I wasn’t in any condition to lie convincingly. In search of a dark place to lick my wounds, I opened the kitchen door and marched towards the planting garden, stopping only when I reached the stone wall bordering the tomato plants. The one that was well out of sight from the house. Leaning against it for support, I closed my eyes and tried to rein in the tumult of my emotions. My limbs felt like dead weight. And as the shot of adrenaline wore off, it was replaced by nausea and a growing sense of dread.

  My father always said criticism could never hurt unless you agreed with the one doing the criticizing. He was right, as he often was. I could feel the stain of emotion on my neck and tried to rub it away. The audacity of that woman. The worst part was that I did agree with her. What was I doing? We didn’t belong together––not in any rational sense anyway. I was taking all the risk, and I was the one that couldn’t afford to gamble.

  She thought I was interested in Sebastian’s money…little did she know. His money was a major complication; the one thing that really stood between us.

  “What are you doing out here?”

  I jumped at the sound of his voice. Lost in thought and self-pity, I hadn’t heard him approaching. “Getting some fresh air.” I started fidgeting under his intense scrutiny. I didn’t have the energy to lie, even my smile was shaky. He stepped closer and dipped his head to kiss me but when he noticed the mark on my neck, he stopped short, his eyes narrowing at the evidence of my discomfort.

  “Why the hell is your neck all red? What happened?” he asked, suddenly alarmed.

  “Sebastian, please. Let it be. I don’t want to discuss it.” I could see the flare of concern in his eyes. He stepped closer and lifted his hand to my throat, caressed the splotch on my neck tenderly, outlining it with his fingers. I closed my eyes at the exquisite feeling. I wanted to sink into him, bury my face in the curve of his neck, and let him chase all thought away.

  “I’ll let it go…for now. I want to show you something. Come.”

  Taking my hand, he dragged me beyond the wall, towards the boxwood hedge while I argued, “No, I can’t…really, I shouldn’t.”

  “Yes, you can. It won’t take long.”

  I shook my head, dug my heels in. “Where are you taking me? Mrs. Arnaud will be looking for me.”

  “Relax, I told her you were helping me with something,” he explained while he held up a plastic bag.

  “What’s that?”

  “Chicken.”

  We walked until we came upon a little house with bars on the windows. “What is all this?”

  “It’s called a mews. It’s housing for my falcons.” His eyes lit up on that last word, a lopsided smile growing on his heart-stopping face.

  Be still my beating heart. His smiles were so rare they felt like sunshine after a nuclear winter. I would’ve done anything for one of those smiles. “Next to it is the weathering yard. That’s where they exercise.”

  From a storage bin, he pulled out a long suede glove and slipped it on before he opened the mews door. The bird stepped onto his arm and perched there. It was large––and admittedly scary. It had a plush coat of white feathers speckled with brown on its breast, and a long red tail that fanned out at the bottom. Its eyes were penetrating, watching me as if it could read my mind and discover all of my secrets.

  “Isn’t she beautiful?”

  My head whipped around. “It’s a she??!”

  Grinning at my bewilderment, he explained, “Falcons are female. The male is called a tiercel…and much smaller.” I stared in wonder at the impressive animal: her sharp talons, the proud breast, the sharp look in her eyes. “Well, what do you think?” he asked, watching me closely. I didn’t miss the moment of uncertainty in his gaze. He looked like a little boy offering to share his favorite toy.

  I think you’re killing me you beautiful, sweet man. He might as well have taken a sledgehammer to my heart because the wall I was trying to erect crumbled at once.

  “The females are bigger than the males? I like the sound of that. Is there a reason why?”

  He paused, a sly grin shaping his sensual lips. “There’s an evolutionary theory that the females over time chose smaller, less aggressive males to provide for her and the young. So she could…dominate him more easily.”

  “Hmm, makes perfect sense to me. Clever creature,” I replied, with a grin of my own.

  His eyes turned sulky. “That only works with red tails, darlin’. In the real world the larger, more aggressive male always wins.”

  With all this heat between us I’m surprised I didn’t go up in flames. “How did you get into this? Your father?” His expression hardened instantly. His jaw twitched as he placed the bird on her tall, wooden perch. All the lightness and fun erased with a casual question. “Did I say something wrong?…Sebastian?” He stared at the bird with an absent look on his face. “Tell me,” I whispered. I had to fight the urge to hold him and kiss that look away.

  “After my parents split, I spent summers here with him––he thought living with my mother was making me soft.” A bark of joyless laughter surged out of him. “On my way back from feeding his birds one day, I found a fledgling, a young bird that had been thrown out of its nest.” Turning to face me, his bleak gaze held mine briefly. “I took it back to the house and showed it to my father. He told me to put it back where I found it, that Mother Nature would take care of the rest... I just couldn’t do it,” he admitted, his head shaking. “I hid the bird in my room. Marianne helped me build a nest.” His face swung away, his eyes searching for something in the distance.

  “A couple of weeks later my father found me upstairs, feeding the bird. He grabbed it out of the box and snapped its neck before I knew what hit me.” A horrified gasp rushed up my throat. “Said I had to learn that life was cruel and some things aren’t meant to take up space in this world,” a weary sigh filled the pause, “so the answer is no. I didn’t learn this from him.”

  My hands were shaking. Gripping them closed, I hid them behind my back. I couldn’t imagine any parent doing that to a young, impressionable child. It was obvious the pain from that phantom wound was indelibly burned onto his soul. And intuitively, I knew he wouldn’t find comfort in pity or sympathy––he was too proud a man.

  “If the Buddhist are right, then the only justice is that he comes back as an unsuspecting field mouse in his next life.” The clouds in his eyes parted and his gaze turned warm. A brief smile touched his lips. “Does she have a name?” He smirked awkwardly. My head cocked to the side as I studied him. “Spit it out. What is it?”

  “Only if you swear never to repeat it,” he said in all seriousness.

&nb
sp; “I swear, now what is it?” A beat of silence followed.

  “Beyoncé,” he said in a low voice.

  My eyebrows nearly reached my hairline. “Beyoncé? This fierce creature’s name is Beyoncé?”

  He scowled, staring at something by his feet. It must have been the rollercoaster ride my emotions were on all day because my body began to spasm from the effort to contain the laughter. Tears started streaming down my face.

  “Good, great. Got a good chuckle out of it…okay…get it all out now…are you done?” He looked annoyed and embarrassed, and utterly kissable. “Can we feed her now? She’s hungry.”

  “Of course…of course.” The giggles left me a little at a time. I handed him the chicken, and watched as the bird grasped it with her sharp beak and flipped it into her mouth. “Why doesn’t she hunt for food?”

  “She was injured when she was young. A larger raptor tore her wing. I put her back together, but she won’t ever fly in the wild again.”

  “Oh…then I’m glad she has you.” I smiled at the loving way he stroked her breast, with the back of his fingers.

  My son has a bleeding heart… I shut her voice out of my mind, determined not to let her mar this intimate moment. He turned to me with the same alert expression I saw on the bird.

  “She reminds me of you.”

  “The beak?” he murmured.

  “No, I think your nose is beautiful. That’s not what I meant. She’s self-contained, innately noble, and that intense focus in her eyes…it makes me feel like she could look into my soul.” I shrugged and averted my gaze, afraid I had said too much.

  He stared back at me as if I had just performed a slight of hand trick he couldn’t quite figure out. The falcon walked down his arm and back into the mews. He shook the glove off, letting it fall at his feet, and closed the distance between us. Reaching for my hand, he brushes his thumb over my knuckles, and hauled me into his arms.

  There was so much emotion burning beneath the surface of his skin. I could feel the heat of it. He was quiet as he held me, cradling my nape with his warm hand. I pressed myself closer and he kissed the top of my head.