“The night you passed out, your shirt was off. I saw the talisman and your marks then.”
Faelan’s look turned mischievous. “I remember waking with far less than my shirt. What else did you notice?”
“Very little. And I didn’t take your clothes off. You did.”
“Little? You think I need some of those supplements you were talking about?” His gaze flickered over her breasts and legs.
She grabbed a pillow and clutched it to her lap, cheeks burning. No, he didn’t need them.
“I remember a dream. But it didn’t feel like a dream. I was kissing you.” He brushed a knuckle across her lips. “And you were kissing me back.”
He grinned and tucked his hands back under his arms, making the muscles in his shoulders and chest ripple. “Better?”
No. “Is this another battle mark?” she asked, touching the small circle behind his ear. She felt a jolt run up her fingers.
“I don’t have…” He stood and walked to the mirror. The color drained from his face.
Chapter 19
Faelan scrubbed his fingers across the small circle with jagged edges. A mate mark. How? Bree stared at him, puzzled. Her hair was pulled back. He could see she didn’t have a mark, at least not behind her ear. A woman often got her mark later than her mate, and it wasn’t always in the same place, but Bree wasn’t his mate. She wasn’t even from his time or his clan. Was his mark for a dead woman he’d never known?
He wanted to sleep, to forget about coincidences and questions without answers and things that couldn’t be. Just for a few hours.
“Is everything okay?”
“I’m tired. It’s been a long day.” He sat on the bed with a weary sigh and lay crossways on the soft mattress.
“I should get back to my room.” She glanced at the door but didn’t move.
“Don’t go.”
She watched him, her eyes wide. Her hair was damp, and her skin, scrubbed clean, was as smooth as porcelain, cheeks with a hint of blush, growing deeper as he stared at her. Clear green eyes he knew he’d see in his dreams, whether he was alive or dead. And red, juicy lips, like an apple waiting to be tasted. She’d broken into a demon’s castle and escaped, but she looked like a princess. His bonny princess, he thought, like the stories Alana had begged him to tell. He touched his neck again and patted the bed next to him. “Sleep next to me.” He didn’t want to be alone. Not tonight. “Please.”
***
Bree’s eyes flew open, and it took her a minute to figure out where she was. Faelan’s body was curved around her, keeping her warm and safe. He moved his head, mumbled a name she couldn’t make out, and tightened his arms around her. Was this a premonition or another dream? She let the steady beat of his heart soothe her to sleep.
***
Faelan woke to a warm scent as familiar as his talisman, but he felt unsettled, maybe because Bree was sleeping half on top of him. Her head rested on his chest, one leg nestled between his thighs, and her hand curled close to his belt.
He shifted, and the arm holding her prickled with numbness. He needed to see the mark on his neck again, to make sure. It must be the time vault throwing things off kilter. He didn’t know everything Bree was, but he knew what she wasn’t. His mate. And lying here any longer would be a bad idea. He didn’t need the entanglement. He couldn’t let his guard down again, and she’d said she didn’t want a man in her life, but having her draped over him made it hard to remember what was best. He tried to lift her head so he could move, but she sighed and rubbed her face against his chest. He repositioned his arm, and blood flowed into the starved limb. Both of them.
He made the mistake of sniffing her hair, which had worked loose from its clasp. He pressed his lips to it and inhaled. Hunger stirred, making him hard. He suspected she wouldn’t say no if he persisted, but it wouldn’t be right. Last night he’d wanted her next to him for comfort. It would add insult to injury to ravish her after what he’d already done. Even as he tried to talk himself out of it, her scent roared into every part of his body. Now that he’d had a taste of her, it was harder to hold back.
He felt her wake and heard a soft gasp. Her fingers twitched, far too close to his groin. He reached down to pull the covers across his lap, to spare them both further embarrassment, but her hand moved quicker. He held back a groan as she grazed one fingertip over him. Did she have any idea what she was doing? She made the trail a few more times while he held his breath. Unbuttoning his pants, she tugged on the zipper, and slipped her hand inside.
He nearly lost it as her fingers wrapped around him. He remembered how it felt being inside her. Did he dare beg her to let him do it again? She stroked him twice, moved her hand lower, and he shifted to make room, gritting his teeth to keep from exploding as she cupped him. His lack of control was shameful. Not that any respectable woman in his time would’ve had her hand wrapped around his balls.
If she didn’t move away soon, he’d make a mess all over both of them. He didn’t want that. He wanted her, to join their bodies the way nature intended. Married would be better, but he couldn’t marry her; it wasn’t allowed. He eased her hand out of his pants, trapping it against his stomach. “I can’t let you do this.”
“Yes, you can.” She pulled free and continued caressing. His resolve fled as quickly as a hungry child tempted with sweets.
He touched her thigh, bare underneath her skirt, the skin silky and soft. He wanted her so badly it hurt. Other
