Jewel of Atlantis

loved him—loved him more than her own life.

Known, too, that she carried a secret she feared would destroy them both.

What had that secret been? He couldn't remember, and fought to bring the answer to the surface of his thoughts. No luck.

Right now, Jewel's gaze was downcast, her long, thick lashes shielding the otherworldly blue of her eyes he found so fascinating. Perhaps that was best. He didn't have the strength to keep from drowning in them right now. He wondered, though, what thoughts swam through her mind. He couldn't read her as he'd been able to in his dream.

'Time to bandage your neck,' she said, cutting into his thoughts. 'Hopefully that wound will be better healed.' Her sensuous voice swept over him, and he felt himself growing hard. Always hard.

He wasn't a teenager, damn it. He should have better control over his body. Who was master? Him or his dick?

Me, his dick said confidently. As if there was ever any question. Oh, shut up.

Jewel slapped her hands together, back and forth, causing sand crystals to fly in every direction. 'Turn, please.'

He shifted to his side to give her easier access, and a sharp pain tore from his neck to his toes. 'Damn it,' he growled. 'A stupid bite shouldn't have caused this kind of damage.'

'You're right. A bite like that should have caused much worse damage. Be thankful you're alive.' 'I'm thankful,' he grumbled.

Gingerly her fingers probed at his throbbing neck. She had to lean closer to him, and her female scent again filled his nostrils. More of her hair glided over his bare chest—when had she removed his shirt, or had he done it?— and the lush fullness of her breasts pushed against his chest.

Just like his dream.

If he'd had the energy, he would have jerked her to him and learned if she tasted like his dream. Like heaven and hell, sin and deliverance. His mouth watered for her tongue; his body tensed for the weight of her.

Not smart to fraternize with the locals, James. Remember?

He felt, actually felt, her nipples harden against him, going from soft to utterly lickable in seconds. Being smart was overrated.

One kiss didn't a sexual relationship make, he rationalized. Would she even be receptive to him? He studied her expression. Her rosy lips were parted; her breath emerged a little shallow. Two twin circles of pink colored her cheeks. She might not know it, she might deny it, but she wanted him. She wanted him bad. All the signs were there.

He almost, almost decided it didn't matter that he had no energy. He wanted to kiss her. Only the thought that he'd do a poor job of it in his weakened condition and have her think he didn't know how to pleasure a woman correctly kept him still.

'What do you think?' he asked. 'How does it look?'

'Better than I'd hoped.' She nodded with satisfaction. 'You'll heal with barely a scar.' 'Maybe you need to lean in and take a closer look.'

Her gaze flicked to his in confusion. When she saw the heat in his eyes, the color in her cheeks deepened prettily. 'I'm going to start charging you for your sexual invitations.'

'Excellent plan. I'll pay you in kisses.'

She chuckled, a throaty purr better suited for bed than banter. 'It will only be considered payment if I accept.'

'You'll accept,' he said, his tone laced with utter confidence. 'I have no doubts. I have a feeling you'll even thank me.'

She rolled her eyes. Using another strip of cloth, she began rubbing sand into his neck. He tried not to cringe at the thought of bacteria and microbes. All right, he also tried not to shout at the burning pain. 'You're one hundred percent positive there are healing qualities in that disgusting stuff, right?'

'Yes. Well.' She added hesitantly, 'ninety percent positive, at least.'

'What!' He grabbed her wrist, surprised momentarily by the delicacy of her bones, and stilled her hand. 'That ten percent of uncertainty could mean you're massaging disease straight into my bloodstream. My neck could rot off, for all you know.'

A booming laugh escaped her. 'I was teasing. Only teasing. You need not fear the sand.'

'You are a cruel, cruel woman.' His grip loosened by small degrees, more from wonder at her laugh than relief at her words. Unlike when she chuckled, her all-out laugh had been raw and new, as if she rarely gave way to such unabashed amusement. She'd uttered the same sound while they'd been in the water, swimming to shore. It had affected him then, and it affected him now, warming his every cell.

'I'm the one who cracks jokes in this relationship. You just stick to caring for my every need.' 'May I return to my work now?' she asked with a grin.

'No.'

'Baby.' Her fingers probed at the edges of the wound. As she worked, her nail accidentally scraped a particularly sensitive spot on his ear, and a sharp pain rebounded through him. He gave no outward reaction, however. He didn't want her to pull away. God knew he'd let her slap, punch and pinch him if it meant her hands would be on him.

Wait. If he didn't want her to know she'd hurt him, he had to stop thinking about it. She would read his mind—if she hadn't already.

He studied her more closely, and his brow furrowed. As he continued to watch her, she gave no indication that she knew what he was thinking. Gave no indication she knew she'd scratched him.

Interesting.

In fact, she'd given no indication she'd heard any of his thoughts since he'd woken up, and he'd had some pretty heated ones.

I want to strip you naked, he projected, still watching her.

No reaction. Her fingers remained steady.

I want to crawl over your body, lick every inch of you, and savor your taste. Still no reaction.

I'll start with your lips, then work my way down, and I won't stop until you're writhing in pleasure and screaming for God to deliver you from my tongue.

Again, nothing.

Interesting, he thought again. Very interesting. Could she no longer read his mind? During their escape from the demon palace, she'd mentioned that there were times she was unable to get inside his head. What prevented her from doing so? Less and less, he liked the idea of this woman knowing his every thought.

'What are you thinking about?' she asked. 'Your body has gone stiff.'

'Can't you read my mind?' His gaze probed her.

She paused. She drew back and stared down at him. 'You sound upset by the very idea. I can't help what I am, Gray. You were thankful for my ability only a few days ago.'

On a sigh of regret, he anchored one of his hands behind his head and closed his eyes. 'I know.'

'If it makes you feel any better,' she said grudgingly, 'I'm having trouble getting into your head. It's like your mind built up an immunity to me when—' She stopped abruptly.

'When?' he prompted, then his eyelids popped open as her words confirmed his suspicions. 'You can't read my mind anymore? Not at all?'

'No.' She sounded both annoyed and shocked. 'And believe me, I've tried.'

He decided to test her one more time. I won't rest until I've had you in every position possible. And when I'm done with you, your naked, sweaty body will be so sated you'll never again be able to think of sex without picturing my face.

Nope. Nothing.

'Finally.' He sighed with pleasure. 'We're on equal footing.'

'Then why do I always feel off balance with you?' she asked, resuming her doctoring. When she finished