chosen another chair, but he craved physical contact with her and saw no reason to deny himself. Not while he hungered for her scent in his nostrils. Hungered for her touch. Even this, as little as it was.
His thigh brushed hers, and she sucked in a breath and tried to scoot away. Did she think to deny him this minor connection? After everything she'd already allowed? Only hours before, the woman had kissed him as if she couldn't live without the taste of him in her mouth. She had let him suck on her nipples, had let him bury two fingers deep inside of her.
He spread his knees, straightened the wide width of his shoulders, both actions consuming all of her space.
'Do you have to sit so close?' she asked on a ragged breath.
'Yes,' was his only reply.
'Want to tell me why?'
'No.'
'I don't like it,' she insisted, scooting from him for the second time.
He moved closer. 'Want to tell me why?' he parroted.
'No,' she parroted right back, her expression stubborn.
'Then you may begin reading.'
She examined her cuticles and yawned prettily. Only the needy gleam in her eyes gave her away.
'What are you doing?' he asked. 'I do not have time to waste. Begin.'
'I'm waiting.'
He arched his brows. 'For?'
'For you to move.'
Scowling, Darius stayed where he was for a long while. This was a minor battle of wills, yet he did not want to lose. Did he have any other choice, though? Teeth grinding together, he inched slightly away from her. As he moved, the sweet scent of her lessened and the heat she emanated faded. He wanted to howl.
'That's better.' She settled into the cushions and opened the book. Her fingers smoothed over the first page, and a look of sadness filled her expression. She began reading, despair reflected in her tone, as well.
He leaned his head back, locked his hands under his neck and closed his eyes. Her melodious voice floated over him, as gentle as a caress. There was something so peaceful about listening to her, as if her voice, despite its melancholy, was a reflection of joy, laughter and love. As if all three were his for the taking, if only he would reach out and grasp them. But he knew they would never be his. Warriors like him were destined to roam life alone. It was the only way to preserve his sanity.
A cold-blooded killer needed absolute withdrawal.
Much too quickly, Grace closed the journal with a gentle flip of her wrist and glanced over at him. He worried two fingers over his jaw. 'Tell me again where your brother stole the medallion from his boss.'
'At a charity gala hosted by Argonauts.'
Again Argonauts, Darius thought, his determination to speak with them increasing. Alex had stolen it, had almost had it stolen from him, and had been followed.
He frowned as a thought occurred to him. 'If you knew your brother was in danger,' he said to Grace, his voice growing harsher with each word, 'why did you even go to Brazil?'
'Did you not hear the last passage? Alex found the hint of danger exciting. And so-' she jutted out her chin in defiance '-did I.'
He was furious as he leaned toward her, putting them nose to nose. Their breath mingled, swirling together and becoming a single essence. Exactly what he wanted for their bodies. That quickly he lost his fury in a haze of lust. His dragon's blood roared to life, clamoring for her. Aching for her. Frenzied for her.
'And do you still crave excitement?' he asked softly, menacingly. 'Do not think to deny it because I know you do,' he added when she opened her mouth to protest. 'I sense the need inside you. I sense it pulsing through your veins even now.'
Her throat constricted, and she gulped.
Dismay whirled in the turquoise cauldron of her eyes, but he also saw hunger, a tempest of desire. She would never be happy with an ordinary life. She needed adventure, needed her deepest fantasies realized, and though it was irrational, he wanted to be the one to give her those things.
His gaze swept to her lips. He found himself closing the rest of the distance, a heartbeat away from possessing her mouth with his own. She jackknifed to her feet, turning her back toward him, granting him a tantalizing view of her cascading curls.
A lovely view to be sure, but not the one he craved.
'I'm sorry.' Grace fingered her lips. Darius hadn't kissed her, had only come within a whisper of her, but still her lips throbbed for him. Of all the things he'd done to her, of all the things he'd made her feel, she feared this the most… this seemingly unquenchable desire she had for him. This need for him, and only him. This consuming ache for his touch that made her forget the only thing she should care about. Her brother.
But…
The more time she spent in Darius's presence, the more she saw past his cold, callous mask and into the heart of a vulnerable man. And that made her want him all the more. That scared her all the more. Such intense longing bordered on obsession. No man should have that much power over her. No man should be able to wrap sultry coils around her and consume her every thought.
Most women dreamt of having such a strong, sensual man at their fingertips. A week ago, she would have been in their ranks, thinking there was nothing more a woman could want than a man who looked at her with undeniable hunger, as if there were no other woman who could make him feel that way. Right now, Grace felt too exposed, too vulnerable.
'I'm not ready for this,' she said. 'Not ready for you. Last night, and even in Atlantis, everything seemed surreal. This… doesn't. This is real and in-your-face and can never be undone. I'm just not ready,' she said again. 'More than that, the timing is horrible. My first concern has to be my brother's welfare. Not my own… desires.'
While she rattled off her list of reasons she shouldn't bed him, Darius's mind formed a list of all the reasons she should. And only one of them mattered. She's mine , he thought. His instincts had tried to warn him, had actually screamed it was so when he last kissed her. This undeniable tug had been between them since the beginning, and it wasn't going away. He admitted as much now. He wouldn't forget his oath, but he would have this woman. Where she was concerned, he could fight his needs no longer.
He would be doing himself a favor, he rationalized, if he took her and rid himself of this growing obsession for her.
He wanted to rise and reach out to clasp her by the waist. He forced himself to remain in place, hands at his sides. He would take her, yes. But he would take her when it was she who was desperate for their loving. Not him. Beads of sweat popped onto his brow and dripped from his temples. He fisted his hands in the soft couch cushions.
Needing a distraction, Darius stood and liberated the journal from between her fingers. She gasped at the sudden loss and spun to glare at him. As she watched, he tossed the little book into a bowl and ignited a fire-with his mouth. He was surprised when the fire quickly dwindled to nothing, and he frowned. The fire should have lasted much longer. His powers must be weaker than he'd realized.
'Fire flew out of your mouth.' Grace gaped. 'Fire really and truly flew out of your mouth.'
'Yes.'
'But fire flew out of your mouth.'
'I did tell you I was a dragon.'
'I just didn't expect fire to fly out of your freaking mouth.' Grace struggled to form a proper response. Darius really was a dragon. The concept was laughable-or should have been. All of it should have been laughable. Atlantis, misty portals, the gods. Yet she'd skipped right along, accepting every fantastical experience tossed her way.
But this… She expected her brain to shout it's too much. I can't accept another implausible happening .
Surprisingly enough, her mind didn't shout. Her mind welcomed.
She toyed with the ends of her hair and expelled a breath. When she was a little girl, her father had read her a book every night. His favorite had been the story of a long ago prince who rescued a princess from a fierce dragon. Grace had never liked that story. She'd always wanted the dragon to defeat the puny prince so the princess
