Starfire (10 page)
Authors: Kate Douglas
Tags: #Romance, #Man-Woman Relationships, #Fiction, #General, #Paranormal, #Demonology, #Revenge, #Paranormal Romance Stories
Would he ever get past the feeling of awe, of clumsy, inept reverence that swept over him whenever he saw her? The hopeless, helpless awkwardness she inspired? He’d never been all that much of a player, though he’d had comfortable relationships with women over the years. Friendships, a few light romances.
There was nothing comfortable about Selyn.
None of the women he’d known had ever affected him this way, but then he’d never known a woman who was anything remotely like Selyn.
He blinked, but she was still there. He kept expecting her to disappear. Such perfection couldn’t be real, could it? He cleared his throat to make sure his voice would work, and realized he had no idea what to say.
She left him speechless. He decided to stick with the mundane, though he figured that would just convince her—if she needed more convincing—that he was an idiot.
“Do you want something to eat before we have to leave?”
She smiled, every bit as unaffected by him as he was driven nuts around her. “Alton said they might be gone a couple of hours. Later, maybe. I’m not really hungry yet.”
“Oh. Okay.”
“I thought maybe we could go outside, now that I have these.” Smiling, she lifted one foot and showed off a sandal.
He nodded. Okay. Outside worked. Then, without thinking, he took her hand, and he was absolutely shocked when she not only slipped hers into his grasp, but clasped his tightly. The connection, the feel of her warm but callused palm was almost his undoing.
He’d never wanted to touch a woman so desperately, never reacted to one on so many levels, but Selyn had him tied in knots. She had his heart speeding up and then slowing down, his chest feeling almost too tight to draw breath, his muscles locked with a tension he couldn’t describe.
All from holding her hand. He almost laughed. No doubt, the woman was going to be the death of him. He gently squeezed her fingers and opened the screen door. Selyn followed him outside. The sunlight, even this late in the fall, was almost blinding.
“Just a minute.” He stepped back inside and grabbed a floppy straw hat off the rack by the door. Carried it outside and gently placed it on Selyn’s head. She touched the brim and smiled. “Thank you. I’m not used to the sunlight.”
Now there was an understatement if ever he’d heard one. He smiled at her, adjusted the angle of the hat to better protect her eyes. Then he took her hand in his once more.
They walked across the yard to the small fish pond. The javalinas were gone, but the pond was home to frogs and turtles and hundreds of tiny gray mosquito fish. A couple of tired water lilies still bloomed, but they were well off their peak.
“What is that?” She pointed at a turtle sunning itself on a flat rock.
“A painted turtle,” he said, pointing to another one floating at the surface with just its nostrils showing. “There’s another. They live in the pond, along with some frogs and, on occasion, a small water snake or two.”
They watched the turtles for a moment, and then continued walking around the house to a point where the Verde Valley spread out below them and the red rocks around Sedona shimmered in the distance.
“So many wonders.” She sighed. “So many things we who live below never imagined even existed. How could my people choose to give this up?”
“Maybe they didn’t choose. Maybe demonkind chose for them.”
Selyn turned and looked at him through eyes filled with tears. Frustration and anger seemed almost a part of her, but there was more he sensed. Sadness. Soul-deep and heartfelt sadness. Despair and a terrible sense of grief, of loss.
Dawson wasn’t sure how it happened, what gave him the courage to act. Empathy, a desire to take away her pain? For whatever reason, before he had time to think this through, he had his arms around her and she was close, so damned close he breathed in her scent and felt the warmth of sunlight on her long, black hair.
Her arms wrapped tightly around his back, and she leaned into his embrace. It seemed perfectly natural to lift her chin with his fingertips and kiss her. The floppy straw hat tilted away and dropped to the sand at her heels, but Dawson didn’t care. Not when he was doing something he’d barely dreamed of.
And, surprise of surprises, it wasn’t nearly as frightening as it should have been for a man who felt woefully inept around women. Dogs and cats were so much easier to figure out, but Selyn didn’t seem to mind that he lacked the finesse of most men when he tasted the full curve of her lips, when his tongue traced the seam between them and gently begged entrance.
She parted for him, tilting her head just right in order to make their mouths fit even more perfectly. Dawson fought the powerful urge to press his body closer, to kiss harder, to slip his hands beneath her loose shirt and explore the woman under the soft, cotton scrubs.
Her breasts were soft against his chest, her fingers digging into his back as she clung to him, holding on as if he were somehow anchoring her, holding her in safety.
She had no idea what his body was driving him to do. No idea how difficult it was to fight his baser instincts. He didn’t want to frighten her, and he forced himself to move slowly, to proceed carefully, but the thought of never taking this beyond a kiss terrified him. Somehow, before too long, he needed to know what her body felt like, how well it would align to his. How perfectly he could fill her, make love to her, make her his own.
Her tongue slipped into his mouth in a timid exploration that sent Dawson’s heart stuttering in his chest. Her taste was unique, the soft pressure of her lips against his—of her tongue exploring the edges of his teeth and the sensitive curve of his mouth—an almost uncontrollable aphrodisiac.
He clasped her head in his palms, holding her so that he could taste and nibble and make love to her mouth. He wanted more, so damned much more, but this was neither the time nor the place, and it was all much too soon.
He felt the soft wind on his face and the tentative touch of her warm fingers sliding beneath his shirt. He groaned against her mouth. His body surged to readiness, and the desire racing through him practically drove him to his knees.
She had no idea what her innocent touch did to him, no concept of a man’s reaction to a woman he wanted. It meant that, no matter how much Dawson wanted to take this to its perfect conclusion, he had to end this kiss now, before he was totally incapable of ending anything without finishing it first.
Slowly, gently, and very reluctantly, he pulled away from her lips. Sucking in one, slow, deep breath after another, he rested his forehead against Selyn’s and did his best to drag in enough air to keep himself conscious.
Long moments later, when he felt as if he’d gained control over his wayward body, he lifted his head and gazed into Selyn’s sapphire blue eyes. They sparkled with more than mischief. In fact, they practically glowed with the same arousal rocketing through his veins, with the same powerful sense of need that still tightened his body. He hardened even more, knowing she shared the same desire to take this amazing kiss, this budding yet impossible relationship, to its natural conclusion.
She ran the tip of her tongue over her top lip and then across the bottom, staring at a point on his throat instead of into his eyes. Finally she glanced up, smiling, and touched his beard with her fingertips. “It tickles when you kiss me.”
“I’ll shave it off.”
She laughed. “Don’t you dare.” She stood on her toes and kissed his chin. “I like it. Just as I like your kisses, though they leave me feeling …” She paused and shook her head. “They leave me feeling very unsettled.”
“Should I stop kissing you?”
This time she kissed his lips, too quickly for him to kiss her back. “Never. Well, for now, maybe, but I want to do it again. When we have more time. I want to know what comes next.”
He sighed and stepped back. “So do I, Selyn. But not until you’re very, very sure.”
She raised her chin, and there was an unspoken question in her eyes. Maybe she didn’t even know what to ask.
He answered her anyway. “There are some things, once done, that can never be undone. Some things too important to rush. This. You and me? This is one of those things.”
She worried her bottom lip with her teeth, and then she nodded. He grabbed her hand and tugged. She followed, and they headed back to the house. There were sandwiches to make to take with them into Lemuria, and a few things to pack. A new chancellor to seat on the Lemurian Council of Nine, a sword to return to its rightful owner, and a hundred new crystal swords to deliver to women too long forgotten.
That was all. Nothing more than a war against demonkind to be won before Dawson figured they’d have time to find out what came next.
It was only a couple of hours later when Roland met all of them in the chancellor’s office deep within Lemuria. Dawson figured that by now, Artigos and Gaia should be at Eddy’s house in Evergreen. Darius and Mari, the Lemurian guardsman and the human witch, were planning to meet with them tonight.
Alton had gone immediately to his father’s desk, where he was now checking schedules and preparing to call a meeting of the Council of Nine. Ginny would stand beside him as the chancellor’s consort, which left it entirely up to Dawson and Selyn to return the ruby sword to its rightful owner.
If the man Selyn had heard of really was Artigos the Just.
Dawson tucked the carefully wrapped sword and scabbard under his arm and clapped Alton on the shoulder. “Good luck, Alton. Don’t worry if you don’t hear from us until tomorrow. It may take us a while to actually reach the prisoner.”
“I know. Plus, you’ll need to remain, at least long enough to help Taron get the swords to their rightful owners. So damned much to do.” Alton stood close beside Ginny. The strain of the past few days was beginning to show on his face, but the two of them looked more than ready to face the council. “Be safe. Try not to take any chances, and listen to Roland.”
Roland chuckled. “That’ll be a first. I don’t think anyone listens to me. C’mon.”
Dawson and Selyn followed him through the portal as soon as the sergeant was certain the way was clear. Selyn had donned the white robe Gaia had given her so that she’d blend in better, should they be discovered. She looked like an exotic princess with her long hair unbound and flowing in soft, ebony waves down her back. Gaia had also given her a gold circlet to hold the hair back from her eyes. It glowed against her bronze skin and only emphasized her beauty. This woman most definitely was not a slave.
Never again. And how anyone as gorgeous as Selyn expected to blend into anything was beyond him.
Roland unsheathed his sword and marched Dawson and Selyn along the tunnel as if he were taking them to the cells below the main level. He glanced over his shoulder and grinned at Dawson as they descended to the next level. “I still think you should have worn one of those blue guardsmen’s robes. Then you wouldn’t have to act the part of a prisoner.”
Dawson shook his head and glanced at Selyn walking beside him. “Sorry, Roland, but all I could think of was that if things got ugly, I didn’t want to try running for cover in a dress.”
“Dress? This is not a dress. It’s my uniform.”
Dawson laughed at his indignant reply. “On Earth it’s a dress. Maybe a gown. Not what a real man would wear.”
Roland raised his eyebrows in mock outrage. “A real man, eh? Watch what you say to a real man carrying a crystal sword, human.”
Dawson grabbed Selyn’s hand and shot her a quick grin. He squeezed her fingers. “I’ll remember that when your crystal sword gets tangled in your girly skirt. Seriously, Roland. How do you fight wearing a robe? Doesn’t it get in the way?”
Roland paused beside a portal that led to an even lower level. “It does,” he said. “Guardsmen of old dressed in pants and boots, similar to what you wear. The robe became our official uniform when someone on the council decided we needed to appear as philosophers, not warriors. Alton has already said we can change the uniform as soon as things settle a bit.”
“For women, as well.” Selyn pulled the full skirt of her robe to one side. “It looks very pretty, but the pants I wore at Dawson’s house are much more practical. I think I shall bring that design to the women once we are armed.”
Laughing, Dawson followed Roland through the portal with Selyn beside him. Just what Lemuria needed. An entire army of women warriors, all dressed in surgical scrubs.
Neither Roland nor Selyn had a clue what Dawson thought was so funny. Probably just as well.
They passed through more portals and walked down stairs cut into solid stone. Quietly, they followed the secret and well-hidden tunnels Roland had discovered, where dim lighting barely showed the way. Selyn kept listening for the sounds of the Forgotten Ones laboring, but all she heard was the steady breathing from the three of them, and the echoes of their footsteps. It was almost an hour later and many levels down before they reached the mines where the Forgotten Ones were enslaved.
At this point, Selyn took the lead. She had, after all, lived here for her entire life. How could she have forgotten the stench? The air was musty and reeked of sour sweat and something rotten. It was warm in some places, frigid in others, and the sound of heavy machinery rumbled in the background.
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