Darkness Possessed (Order of the Blade) (23 page)

The kiss went from tentative to inferno in a split second. Rhiannon seemed to explode with passion, and he was right there with her. Hot kisses. Flesh. More flesh. His hands were suddenly on her bare belly, her stomach muscles quivering under his touch. Her skin was so smooth, and it made him want more. No, he didn't want more. He
needed
more. He needed more of her skin, more of her kisses, more of everything that she was. He slid his hands up her rib cage and rested his palms over her breasts. She arched beneath him, pressing her body against his as she continued to devour his kisses. This was no shrinking maiden he was kissing. She was a warrior woman who craved him as desperately as he burned for her. There were no apologies, no fragility, and no tentativeness. It was about strength between two equals fighting for that which would make them breathe once again.

He felt her hands on the button of his jeans and lifted his hips just enough for her to fit her hands between their bodies. His body quivered in anticipation as she unbuttoned his fly and unzipped the zipper. Before he could even respond, her hands were on his butt, sliding beneath his boxer briefs. His body began to shake with need and with longing at the sensation of her hands on him. It had been so long since anyone had touched him like this. All the discipline he'd been trying to sustain deserted him.

No longer could he hesitate or pretend to be the good guy. He dragged her shirt over her shoulders, taking her bra with it. Her body was lean, well–muscled perfection. At the same time, coating the hardness of her body was a layer of soft flesh, of a woman who had let her body soften and round into that which made her who she was. She tugged down his jeans, taking his boxer briefs with them in one smooth move. There was no doubt that she wanted all of him, just as he wanted all of her. With a low groan he rolled off her just long enough to kick off his boots and yank his jeans over his feet.

The light from the torches flickered over her body, casting her in warm oranges and reds, flickering with the shadows. Her gaze was riveted to his as she unfastened her own pants and slid them over her hips. He grabbed her boots and unlaced each one with violent speed, ripping them off and setting them to the side, making sure they were within reach in case she needed them in a hurry. By the time he'd turned back, she was naked, gloriously naked.

She was propped up on her elbow, her breasts soft mounds. Her nipples were brown and taut, welcoming him. Along her arms from wrist to shoulder were a myriad of tattoos, intricately woven designs that looked vaguely familiar to him. But his mind couldn't be bothered to process the markings on her skin. He was consumed by the burning desire in her eyes, by the need and hunger simmering so close to the surface.

With a low growl of anticipation he crawled across the ground toward her. Her eyes widened and her tongue flicked across her lower lip as she watched him approach. She didn't pull back, and he caught the scent of her desire in the air. He moved until he was over her. Bracing himself on his arms and legs, he lowered himself until their bodies were a breath apart, but not touching anywhere. His erection was pulsing with heat and desire, his quads burning with the need to launch himself into her.

But he didn't.

The memory of her fear and terror was still so vivid that there was no way that he could take her unless he knew that she was with him completely. For a long moment neither of them moved, and the air between them seemed to sizzle and steam with the heat from their bodies. She didn't reach for him. She simply remained still, leaning back on her elbows, staring at him. Sweat trickled down his temple as he waited for her to make that first move.

They were naked. The desire and lust were so thick in the air he could practically see it and feel it coating his flesh. If she kissed him, if he touched her, there was no question about what would happen, which meant he would not cross that border first. She had to make that choice.

Then she held up her arms to him, inviting him into her embrace. It wasn't a raw, mindless move of lust. It was a gesture of tenderness and trust, inviting him not just into her space, but into her inner circle.

He lowered himself onto her. Her arms encircled him, and she pulled him close as he kissed her. The kiss was different this time. It wasn't chaste, but it wasn't untamed fire. Somehow the mere sight of her holding out her arms to him in an embrace had changed things. This time the kiss, although still laced with lust and desire, was also lit by a tenderness he hadn't felt in so long.

He was so shocked by his feelings that he actually stopped the kiss. He went still. The tension radiating through his body was no longer about sexual anticipation. It ran deeper than that, penetrating scars that had branded his soul long ago and settled into hard, unforgiving barriers of protection. Memories he had long since buried, ones he had managed to forget about, came surging to the forefront of his mind.

Shit. Sex was one thing. Tenderness? Trust? No fucking way. He couldn't do that again, not to her, not to himself.

"No." Swearing, he tensed and started to roll off her…then he made the mistake of looking at her face. She was watching him with such softness on her face that something inside him seemed to shatter. What the hell? No one looked at a Calydon with such tenderness. It made him uncomfortable. It seemed to penetrate through walls he'd spent centuries erecting. "What?" he couldn't keep the gruffness out of his voice. Hell, he couldn't even fucking concentrate. He was being assaulted by memories, tempted by the feel of her body beneath his, and undone by the vulnerability and emotions on her face.

"I'm sorry," she said quietly, reaching up to brush her finger over his forehead. "I'm sorry for whatever it is that haunts you."

He closed his eyes, unable to resist the temptation of her touch. Shit, it felt good. Too damn good. He could not go there again. "I can't do this," he gritted out. He wrenched himself off her and vaulted to his feet, grabbing his jeans as he did so. He yanked them on, almost catching his damn erection in the zipper he was so frantic to get dressed.

Running his hand through his hair, once he had his pants on, he turned to face her, knowing that he owed her an apology. This woman with demons on her tail had trusted him, and he'd pulled this shit on her. But when he turned to face her, he was shocked to see her staring at him with a look of absolute disbelief on her face, but she didn't appear to be hurt. Damned if it didn't look like she was impressed with him.

"You got up," she said, still lying there propped up on her elbows, naked as hell.

"Yeah." He ran his hand through his hair as he grabbed his shirt. Shit. He didn't even know what to say. He was still caught up in memories he didn't want to revisit.

"Why?"

Swearing, he looked around, trying to find an excuse not to answer her, then he took a second look when he realized what was around them. Woven at least thirty feet high on all sides of them, just beyond the circle of torches, was a wall of vegetation. Flowers danced above their torches, and the plants seemed to undulate gently. Stunned by the sheer magnitude of what she'd created, he walked over to it and placed his hand on the wall. The plants were cool and damp beneath his palm, and he could feel their energy vibrating gently against his flesh. "It's a living wall." He looked up, stunned by the sheer artistry of the tapestry she'd woven. It was pure natural art, and he could even see the outlines of assorted forest animals, as if the plants had mimicked the creatures of the jungle beyond.

He pushed lightly at the wall, and it parted for him, allowing his hand to go through. But when he pulled it back, it quickly closed back up, sealing off the spot that had opened. "Unbelievable."

"It only lets you through because you're on my side," she said. "It's impenetrable from the outside."

He glanced back over at her, and saw that she was dressed now, her neck craned as she looked up at the top of the wall. "I haven't created anything like this in a very long time," she said softly as she walked over next to him.

She laid her hand on the wall beside him, and the plants immediately wove themselves around her hand, like a custom glove holding her in place. She smiled and wiggled her fingers. The plants loosened their grip, and then a pale white flower emerged from the wall, right between her thumb and forefinger. Her face softened into an incredible smile of wonder, and she leaned forward, inhaling the scent of the blossom. "Thank you," she whispered, so quietly that he knew she was speaking to the plants.

He couldn't take his eyes off her. The look of wonderment and rapture on her face gave her a radiance that was riveting. She looked almost innocent, a part of nature so pure that he was in awe. Her hair was still in a bun, but strands of the raven-black tendrils had fallen free, draping over her shoulder.

She turned to him and held out her hand. "I want to show you something."

He knew that he had to walk away. He knew he couldn't go to these kinds of places with her, but in that moment, he didn't care. She was different from any woman he'd ever known, from anyone he'd ever met, and he wanted to be a part of it, as if she could chase away all the rot and filth he carried in his own soul.

Wordlessly, he placed his hand in hers. The electricity that jumped between them made his muscles tighten, and she sucked in a small breath. Then she smiled at him and pressed his hand to the wall, just as he'd done by himself. This time, however, she kept her hand over his, tangling their fingers together.

The plants wove over their joined fingers, like a seductive caress that sent chills racing down his spine. Energy seemed to spark through his flesh all the way to the bones of his hand. It was a vibrating, visceral power that was so strong it actually hurt. But at the same time he could feel it running down his arm like a hot, desert wind whipping through all the blockages in his body. "What is it?"

"It's the earth," she said quietly. "Can you feel it?"

He nodded.

Her fingers tightened around his, and he looked over at her. "You gave that back to me," she said. "I haven't felt that connection with the earth and the plants in a very long time. I forgot what it felt like." She smiled, a tender smile that was so full of peace and serenity that she was like a different person from the one who had recoiled from him in such terror.

He turned toward her, suddenly wanting to know. Yes, granted, he needed to grill her on the fire god and the Calydons hunting them, but the wall gave them time. Right now, he needed to know about the woman who had dropped into his life. "Tell me," he said. "Who hurt you so badly that it stripped away from you the very essence of who you are? Was it Luther?"

Shadows drifted into her eyes, and the leaves that had been tangled around their hands retreated back into the wall. She met his gaze, and there was such trauma in her eyes that he wanted to sweep her into his arms and fight the world for her. "I don't think you want to know," she said quietly.

She turned away then, and walked back across the clearing to the fire. She sat down and picked up the fish that he'd left in the flames. "Dinner's ready. I hope you like it a little crispy."

"Dinner?" He turned to stare at her.
Dinner
.

Fuck dinner. He didn't want to eat. All he wanted was to find out what haunted Rhiannon so badly that it had stolen the magnificence of her talent from her. All he wanted was to hear her secrets and find a way to take away her pain.

He took one last look at the wall to double check its security. Satisfied, he then turned his attention to his guide. He had an entire night behind the barricade with just her, and he knew exactly what he was going to do with her.

Rhiannon's skin prickled as Zach approached the fire. She didn't look up from the fish as he stopped right beside her, his bare feet only inches from her. Why was he so close? Didn't he realize he could sit on the
other
side of the fire?

Then he eased himself down next to her, and she answered her own question. Of course he knew. The man was far from an idiot. He was doing it intentionally. Why? Maybe he had changed his mind about making love?

The moment she thought it, intense pangs of desire pulsed through her, but this time, she was able to keep a rational thought about it. She didn't make love with men. It was a foolish, dangerous thing to do, even if it was Zach. She was grateful that he'd had the sense to stop before they had taken it too far.

Wordlessly, she scooped up some fish onto a metal dish from her backpack, and handed it to him.

"Thanks," he said.

"Sure." She took some fish for herself, and then they sat there in silence, eating. Rhiannon stared into the fire, watching the flames dance as she ate, viscerally aware of every move that Zach made.

He was so close to her she could feel the heat from his body. She counted his breaths. She watched his biceps flex when he reached to put more wood into the fire. She was riveted by his woodsy, earthy scent that seemed to wrap around her. She noticed the way his jeans encased his muscular thighs as he stretched his legs out. She remembered what he tasted like. She couldn't stop thinking about how it had felt to have his naked body on hers, all that hot flesh touching hers. The memory was so vivid, including the fact that she hadn't been afraid, and the fact that
he had stopped.
She knew how badly he'd wanted her, and yet he'd stopped. The strength of his will was astonishing. Unreal. She would have bet that there wasn't a male alive who would have the discipline and emotional depth to halt on the edge of sex. It was incredible, and it made her want him even more, because it made her feel
safe.

He was all male, and she was aware of every single part of him. He didn't seem to be unsettled by the rising silence between them, but it seemed to be wrapping around her, sending chills through her body, increasing in intensity with every passing moment.