Captive (17 page)

She was no longer holding Tristan but clinging to him, desperate for him to relieve
the ache building inside her.

“Tristan.”

Something in her voice made him pull back to look at her face. What he saw there enticed
a slow, dangerous smile across his mouth.

Tristan didn’t say anything as he leaned forward, pushing Sarah back onto the mattress
while he stretched over her. His lips returned to hers, his kisses slow and deep.

He reached between them to unbutton and unzip her jeans. Without prompting she raised
her hips so he could slide them off. Then his palm pressed between her legs. Sarah
arched up against his hand and he groaned, slipping his fingers beneath the silk of
her panties.

“Christ,” he whispered, finding her hot and slick under his touch. “You’re so wet.”

Words seemed lost to Sarah; all she could do was writhe against Tristan’s hand as
he stroked her. She’d never thought an ache could be so unbearable and feel so good
at the same time. Her body seemed to know that it needed something from Tristan, something
she’d never had but wanted desperately. And it wasn’t that Sarah didn’t grasp the
concept of fucking. But understanding the mechanics and living the sensation were
more different than she ever had imagined.

“Please.” She managed to get one hoarse word out.

Still caressing her with one hand, Tristan’s other hand moved to the fly of his jeans.
Sarah watched, riveted, as Tristan freed his cock, which had been straining against
the fabric. Her moan of pleasure at the sight of his arousal surprised her, but Tristan
smiled as he kicked off his jeans.

Taking one of Sarah’s hands, Tristan guided it to his erection. When her fingers closed
around the length of him, Tristan closed his eyes and groaned. Sarah’s breath came
faster. His cock felt more than good in her hand—thick and strong, straining against
her touch. His skin was like silk, so surprising in contrast to how hard and insistent
his erection was.

Sarah took a firmer grip, moving her hand up and down his length, and Tristan clenched
his jaw. He caught Sarah off guard by slipping a finger inside her. Her hips bucked
up instantly and she cried out, another rush of hot dampness flooding through her.

Withdrawing his hand, Tristan brought his finger to his mouth and Sarah shivered as
she watched him.

“I want to spend a long time tasting you, Sarah.” Tristan bent over her and nuzzled
her belly. “But I think it will have to be later. Right now I can’t wait.”

Sarah’s hips bucked again; the ache between her legs had taken her body hostage. “No
waiting. I need . . .”

Her voice trailed off. Her body knew what it wanted, but her mind balked. Did she
need this? All her instincts were screaming yes, but what little rational thought
lingered reminded her that she didn’t actually know. She’d never been there before.

Tristan kissed his way up her body, lingering at her breasts until she was writhing
beneath his weight. She let go of his cock, burying her fingers in his hair and cradling
his head as his tongue flicked over her nipples.

Screw rational.
Sarah parted her mouth for Tristan when he bent over her again, kissing him eagerly.
I want this. I want this so much.

Still kissing her, Tristan stripped off Sarah’s panties and then his fingers delved
back into her wet folds. His thumb found her clit and began to stroke it. Sarah’s
limbs trembled, sounds emerging from her throat of their own volition. She no longer
had a sense of reality, only the waves of pleasure Tristan’s touch evoked.

He kissed her earlobe, whispering, “Do you want me to make you come first? Or do you
want this now?”

Tristan nudged her thighs farther apart and she felt the head of his cock press into
the slick heat just shy of her opening.

“Tell me.” Tristan pushed a bit farther and Sarah felt a surprising tension, and sudden
awareness that there would be more than pleasure when he entered her.

Of course she’d known that. But tangled in Tristan’s embrace, Sarah had forgotten
that this moment would be weighty with trepidation as well as desire.

Tristan was smiling down at her, waiting for her reply. A part of her wished he would
just thrust into her, even if it meant pain now and an uncomfortable explanation later.
But his eyes were locked on hers, and she knew he wouldn’t go on until she asked him
to.

“I want—” Sarah couldn’t break her gaze from Tristan’s. “I don’t know. I haven’t—”

“Haven’t what?” Tristan’s smile faded. “Sarah, you’re not . . . Are you telling me
you’re a virgin?”

Sarah didn’t answer. She didn’t have to. Tristan’s eyes widened and his face paled
slightly. Without warning he jerked back from her, as if she’d put a lit match to
his skin. He swung his legs over the edge of the bed and stood up, his fists clenching
and unclenching. Startled, Sarah grabbed the edge of the sheet and drew it up to cover
herself to the waist.

“Bloody hell.” Tristan grabbed his jeans from the foot of the bed. “Bloody fucking
hell, Sarah.”

His movements were stiff with anger. He tugged his jeans on while she watched in stunned
silence.

Without another word, he was across the room and out the door, slamming it shut behind
him.

TRISTAN BLEW PAST
Seamus and down the hall. He didn’t stop until he reached the small bathroom attached
to his study.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

He was too furious to think, not too mention still so hard it made his teeth hurt.

Gripping the marble basin with one hand, Tristan opened his fly and drew out his swollen
cock. He began stroking himself with long, swift pulls. When Tristan closed his eyes
he could still see Sarah, panting beneath him; feel the weight of her breasts in his
hands when he kneaded them. He gritted his teeth, fully aware how heavy his balls
were, how his cock grew even stiffer as he remembered being on the verge of pushing
inside her.

God. She’d been so ready for him. So wet. He could only imagine how tight she would
have been when he . . .

Tristan let out a groan as he came, his hot spurt of semen hitting the bathroom wall.
He leaned against the sink, having found the release he needed. But it was a bitter
way to get off, considering he’d been about to have a beautiful woman whom he wanted
far more than he should.

“You know, I could have helped you with that.”

Tristan looked up and saw Lana’s reflection in the bathroom mirror. Her wings gave
an irritated little flutter.

“I’m not in the mood, Lana.”

Lana stepped forward and ran her hands along his bare shoulder blades. “You
were
in the mood, but you finished without me. I bet I could bring you back though, so
it’s not a total loss.”

One of her hands slipped around his waist to where his fly was still open. She grasped
his cock that, while recently spent, was still half-erect. He clenched his jaw when
he felt himself twitch with arousal at her touch. Tristan had no doubt that Lana could
have him hard again in a matter of seconds. He also knew he could turn around and
tell her to get on her knees and stay there until he had his satisfaction.

But it wasn’t Lana who had gotten him so riled up he’d had to jerk himself off in
the bathroom like some randy teenager. It wasn’t Lana he wanted. He knew he would
never want the succubus in his bed again.

Tristan swatted Lana’s hand away from his cock and buttoned up his jeans. “If I need
something from you, I’ll ask.”

A growl drew Tristan’s gaze beyond Lana. Seamus stood just outside the bathroom door.
Tristan was glad to note that the wolf’s angry gaze was for Lana and not him.

Lana’s nose crinkled up. “When was the last time you had a bath, dog?”

Seamus ignored her, turning his attention to Tristan.

“What it is, Seamus?” Tristan asked.

“The young lady has returned to her own room,” Seamus replied. “I thought you’d want
to know that.”

“Thank you,” Tristan walked around Lana, who remained stubbornly between him and the
door. “Lana, please tell the kitchen staff that I’ll expect dinner at the usual time
tomorrow.”

“You’ll be dining alone I assume?” Lana asked.

“No,” Tristan said. “They should prepare a meal for two.”

Tristan hesitated when he passed Seamus. He wanted to ask if Sarah had seemed all
right when she’d left his room, if she’d been upset. But he could do no such thing
with Lana hovering nearby.

Though he knew it could only be an uncomfortable conversation, Tristan made up his
mind to confront Sarah rather than delay the inevitable. He stopped to pull on a T-shirt
before heading to her room.

When he reached her door and lifted his hand to knock, Tristan froze, realizing he
had no idea what he planned to say. His thoughts remained scattered. What if she’d
gone to bed and he was about to disturb her?

Tristan was still standing outside Sarah’s room, debating what his first words should
be, when the door opened.

“Tristan.” Sarah’s eyes widened. She’d changed into a long, silk robe that clung to
her curves. Tristan’s jaw clenched when he felt his cock stir simply from the sight
of her.

Fucking hell.

But upon seeing Tristan at her door, Sarah clutched the robe’s neckline, hiding any
bare skin, and shrank away.

Is that what I’ve done? She’s afraid of me?

“I—I was going to the baths before I turned in for the night.” Sarah sounded as frightened
as she looked.

Tristan coughed, trying to clear the tightness in his throat. “I don’t mean to disturb
you, but I was hoping we could talk.”

“I don’t—” Sarah took another step back. “I’m not sure that’s a good idea.”

Her eyes were downcast, unwilling to meet his gaze.

With a sigh, Tristan raked his hand through his hair. “I shouldn’t have left like
that. It was a damn fool thing to do. You have every right to be angry with me.”

“But you were angry with me,” Sarah said quietly. “Because I—”

Her voice died and Tristan realized with horror that Sarah wasn’t afraid; she was
ashamed.

What kind of a monster am I?

“No,” Tristan said, clenching his fists to control the rising anger he felt at himself.
“I was just . . . taken aback. But the way I behaved . . . Sarah, that wasn’t your
fault.”

Sarah finally looked up at him, but what he saw in her face wasn’t reassuring. She
remained wary, confused, and worst of all, hurt. Tristan loathed himself for making
her feel that way.

“I didn’t mean to mislead you about . . . ” Sarah said quietly. “I just didn’t expect . . .
I’m not . . . I don’t—”

“Please don’t apologize.” Tristan tried to reach for her, but Sarah shrank from him
again. He felt sick. “You have nothing to be sorry for. I’ll leave you alone now,
but I hope you’ll join me for dinner tomorrow.”

Sarah remained silent for several beats in which a cold fist seemed to grasp Tristan’s
lungs. Then she nodded and he could breathe again.

“Good, I mean, thank you,” Tristan said. “Till dinner, then.”

Sarah nodded again. “Till then.”

She closed the door and Tristan turned away, acknowledging to himself that he’d become
entangled with his prisoner in a way well beyond his intentions. More than that, he
feared he’d already passed the point of being easily freed.

SARAH WAS AFRAID,
but of what she could no longer be sure. Tristan didn’t frighten her—at least, not
in the sense that she thought he might do her physical harm or treat her with malice.
The way he’d held her, touched her—the look in his eyes when he came close—all of
these things bespoke an attachment that ranged beyond simple lust.

But that realization was frightening enough—more so because her own feelings reflected
those she saw in Tristan.

Amateur
. Sarah cursed her naïveté. She sat before the mirrored vanity, lost in thought as
Moira brushed Sarah’s hair and hummed dreamily.

How could I ever have thought I could seduce a man without consequences when I’ve
never done it before?

Sighing, Sarah shook her head.
And now I’m obsessed with Tristan—a man who I humiliated myself in front of and I’m
sure doesn’t want me at all now. God, I’m an idiot. What was I thinking?

“Did I pull too hard, miss?” Moira asked, frowning at Sarah in the mirror.

“Oh, no, Moira.” Sarah waved her hand, bidding Moira to continue with her task. “It’s
not you.”

Moira pursed her lips. “If you don’t mind, miss, may I ask what’s wrong? You seem
so troubled.”

Sarah met the girl’s inquiring gaze. For a moment, Sarah was tempted to blurt out
all her feelings. It would have been a relief to have someone to confide in. But just
as quickly, she tamped down that notion. Not only was a young girl like Moira ill
equipped to take on the burden of Sarah’s troubles, but Moira was also technically
among her enemies. All the servants in Castle Tierney had loyalty to the Keepers and
were terrified of angering their masters. One wrong word and Moira might be frightened
enough to repeat everything Sarah said to one of the older servants—no matter how
poorly they treated the girl.

What a fucked-up place this is. Maybe that’s why I’m fitting in so well. Because what
else could I be but a total head case, given that I’m falling for my jailor?

And there it was. Sarah hadn’t let herself fully admit where her feelings had been
leading. But there was no use denying it anymore. Whatever excuses she’d made to justify
her actions, the past twenty-four hours had laid stark her desire for Tristan—a longing
that had nothing to do with her mission and everything to do with him.

“I’m just tired,” Sarah told Moira. “But I’ll be fine.”

“Would you like some tea before you go downstairs?” Moira asked brightly.

Sarah smiled despite her nerves. Moira was always so eager to help—the girl’s earnestness
offered Sarah a nice dose of comfort.

“Thank you, Moira,” Sarah replied. “But I’ll just wait for dinner.”

Though Sarah hadn’t particularly expected Tristan to appear that evening and escort
her to the dining hall, she nonetheless felt like she was walking to meet her doom
as she descended the castle stairs alone. She entered the hall quietly and found Tristan
already there. His back was turned to her as he paced before the fireplace. Sarah
caught his expression in profile and saw her own anxieties captured on Tristan’s face.
She drew a sharp breath and Tristan turned at the sound.

“You came,” he said, surprised and clearly relieved.

Sarah nodded, moving to her usual place at the table. “I said I would.”

“I know, but—” Tristan sat beside her, still agitated. After a long sigh, he said,
“I’m just glad you’re here.”

Sarah didn’t reply. “Glad” wasn’t a word she would use to describe her feelings about
being there. She couldn’t pick out a specific emotion from the turbulence that filled
her mind. A part of her wanted to be near Tristan, hoping to sort through the confusion
of thoughts with his help. But Sarah was hesitant to open up to him. His rejection
of her the night before remained a fresh wound, perhaps too tender for close examination.

The meal presented was light—broiled fish and wilted greens—which came as a relief.
Sarah didn’t think her stomach could have taken heavy, rich foods. They both ate quietly
until Tristan set his fork and knife down.

“Sarah, I—” He paused and then reached for her hand. She watched as he turned her
wrist over and rested his fingertips against her palm. “I’m so sorry.”

A lump formed in Sarah’s throat so suddenly that she had to close her eyes. She refused
to shed even a single tear in front of Tristan. The last thing Sarah wanted was for
him to see any weakness on her part.

“Last night I was just . . . surprised,” Tristan continued. “But that’s no excuse
for how I acted.”

When she’d reined in her emotions, Sarah looked at him. “Thank you for apologizing.”
Sarah hesitated, her pulse quickening as she said, “I don’t blame you for not wanting—”

I should have just slept with Jeremy. If I had, then I wouldn’t be sitting here, humiliated.

Sarah ground her teeth, chastising herself for the hasty thought.
You didn’t fuck Jeremy because it didn’t feel right. Because you didn’t know how much
you could want to be with someone until . . .

Watching the way the evening light softened the hard lines of Tristan’s face, Sarah’s
chest cramped, making her wince. It didn’t matter how much she wanted him. Not anymore.
He’d made that clear.

“Not wanting?” Tristan frowned at her. “Sarah, if you think for a minute that I walked
out last night because I didn’t want you, you couldn’t be more wrong.”

“But when you found out that I haven’t . . .” Her voice trailed off as she watched
Tristan’s jaw clench.

“I was a complete ass,” Tristan said. “But that has nothing to do with how I—”

He fell silent and pulled his gaze off of her.

“How you what?” Sarah wrapped her fingers around his.

When he looked at Sarah again, the intensity in his eyes stole her breath. “I still
want you. There was never a moment when I didn’t want you.”

“Then why did you leave?” Sarah whispered.

“Because I’d presumed things,” Tristan told her. “And that meant I approached you
in a way that wasn’t . . . What I’m trying to say is that your first time should be
handled with more finesse.”

“I thought you had plenty of finesse,” Sarah replied, and was immediately mortified.
What the hell did I just say?

Startled, Tristan opened his mouth to reply, but then began to laugh. A momentary
flare of anger lit Sarah’s veins, but then she giggled and soon she was laughing so
hard that her sides ached.

When she finally caught her breath again, all the tension gripping Sarah’s body had
ebbed away and she offered Tristan a genuine smile.

“I don’t know what to make of you,” Sarah said. “Aside from the wealth and the Guardians,
you’re not at all what I’ve always been told Keepers are.”

“Maybe that’s because I’ve been kept apart from the other Keepers.” Tristan threaded
his fingers through hers.

Sarah shook her head. “I don’t think that has anything to do with it. I think it’s
simply a matter of who you are.”

“Do you like who I am?” Tristan asked softly.

“Yes,” Sarah replied. “I shouldn’t, but I do.”

“Why shouldn’t you?”

“You know why.” Sarah frowned. “I’m a Searcher. We’re enemies.”

“You didn’t know anything about me when you came here,” Tristan said. “Now you do.
Doesn’t that change things?”

Sarah pulled her hand free of his. “It has changed how I feel about you. But it doesn’t
change how I feel about the war.”

Tristan sat back in his chair, regarding Sarah for several moments. “What if you weren’t
fighting the war?”

“Impossible scenarios aren’t helpful,” Sarah said.

“It’s not impossible,” Tristan replied. “You’ve said yourself that your companions
won’t come looking for you. That they’ll assume you’re dead. What if you simply let
them believe that . . . and stay here with me.”

“No.” Sarah didn’t even allow herself to consider that option. “That would be a lie.
I couldn’t live with myself for turning away from people I love.”

Tristan flinched at her words. “But you will turn away from me.”

“That’s different,” Sarah told him. “This place, everything that’s happened between
us—it’s a fantasy. The outside world is real.”

“This is my world,” Tristan countered. “And now you’re part of it.”

“I’m not.”

“I want you to be.”

“I can’t stay,” Sarah whispered. “I can’t willingly be your prisoner.”

“And I can’t let you go,” Tristan said. His voice became so soft, Sarah had to lean
toward him to hear what he said next. “Not yet.”

Sarah could barely breathe. “Not yet?”

Tristan moved so quickly, Sarah didn’t have time to register that he’d gone from sitting
beside her to standing over her. His hands cupped her face and he bent to kiss her.
His lips were gentle, as though he worried she’d push him away. Sarah grasped the
collar of Tristan’s shirt. She opened her mouth to taste his tongue. Tristan slid
one of his hands down her neck and Sarah sighed with disappointment when his palm
barely skimmed her breast. His hand kept moving, tracing the curve of her waist and
out again over her hip. When Tristan touched her thigh and his fingers slipped into
the high slit of her gown, Sarah took his lower lip between her teeth, biting gently
to urge him on.

A low sound, nearly a growl, emerged from Tristan’s throat and Sarah bit harder, teasing
the edge between pleasure and pain. She got the response she wanted when Tristan palmed
her leg and his fingertips grazed her inner thigh. Sarah shuddered when his hand brushed
against the silk of her panties. His fingers fluttered along her sex, the light touches
sending flares of pleasure up to the crown of her head and down to the tips of her
toes.

Sarah kissed Tristan harder. Undoing the top buttons of his shirt, she ran her palm
along his collarbone. She held him closer as she inched along the seat of her chair,
wanting more pressure from his hand against her. But Tristan pulled back, taking his
hand out from beneath her dress. Sarah almost swore at him; her bruised lips wanted
his kiss again and it was all she could do not to writhe in the chair in an attempt
to ease the ache between her thighs.

Tugging on his shirt, Sarah said. “Don’t stop.”

“I’m not planning to.” Tristan kissed her cheek, then whispered, “But we shouldn’t
stay here.”

He stood, offering Sarah his hand. She took it.

Their fingers laced together. It was a simple act, but it was a way of clinging to
each other as Tristan led Sarah out of the dining hall and up the staircase. The upper
floor of the castle was quiet, for which Sarah was grateful. All she wanted to think
of was Tristan. No doubt. No distractions. No fear of being watched.

He paused in the middle of the hall, leaving it to Sarah to choose their destination.
Sarah squeezed his hand, pleased, and tugged him toward her bedroom door. Tristan
pulled her into the room, shutting and locking the door behind them. He turned to
face her. They stood in silence for a moment, breathing hard, gazing at each other.
Tristan moved first, stepping forward and sliding his arms around Sarah’s back. He
pulled her against him, molding her curves to the hard lines of his body. Sarah could
feel how taut he was, the power in his limbs. His hands moved to cup her ass and he
lifted her up. She moaned when she felt the hard outline of his erection pressing
into her.

Holding Sarah tight, Tristan carried her across the room to the bed. Rather than laying
her down, Tristan set Sarah on her feet. He reached around and found the zipper of
her dress. He pulled it down slowly, then took a breath and stepped back.

Sarah kept her eyes on Tristan’s face as she slid the straps of her dress from her
shoulders and down her arms. The bodice dropped away, and Sarah pushed the dress down
her hips and let it fall to the floor. She stayed still as Tristan’s gaze drank her
in.

Taking a step toward him, Sarah reached out and finished unbuttoning his shirt. She
waited as he shrugged the crisp cotton from his shoulders and chest. Unable to resist
touching him, Sarah laid her hands against his golden skin, feeling the warmth of
his body and the rise and fall of his breath.

In a tender gesture, Tristan lifted one of her hands to his mouth and kissed her fingertips.
When he released her hand, he wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her close.
He bent to kiss her and ran his hands up her spine, pausing to unclasp her bra. Sarah
let the bra fall away and then arched up when Tristan lowered his head and took the
peak of her breast in his mouth. She cradled his head as his lips and tongue caressed
her skin. Her fingers slid through his hair and she gave a small cry of pleasure when
his teeth gently closed on her nipple.

Tristan lifted his head and kissed her on the mouth again. His lips trailed over her
cheek and he murmured, “Lie on the bed.”

He watched as Sarah stretched out. Then she watched as he unbuckled his belt and shed
his pants and boxers. She drew a quick breath of anticipation when she saw how aroused
he was. When he came to the bedside, Sarah reached for his cock, but Tristan caught
her wrist.

“Not yet.”

Keeping Sarah’s wrist in his hand, Tristan took her other wrist as he knelt above
her, then pinned both her arms above her head while he kissed her. She loved the taste
of him, the way his tongue stroked over hers, and the teasing nips of his teeth on
her lips. Heat was building low in Sarah’s body, her hips arched up toward Tristan’s,
but he kept his body above hers.

“I’m going to move,” Tristan said, releasing her arms, “but I want your hands to stay
above your head.”

Sarah nodded, closing her eyes as Tristan’s mouth and hands made their way down her
body. He took his time enjoying her breasts. His palms cupped their weight, his fingers
toyed with her hard nipples. He licked and sucked until Sarah was calling out his
name, begging for relief.

She looked down at Tristan and met his eyes. He smiled and trailed kisses down her
stomach. His forearms pressed her thighs apart. When Tristan’s mouth brushed over
the hem of her panties and she felt his warm breath between her legs, Sarah’s heart
jumped, making her wonder if she could handle what was about to happen.