“Take off the handkerchief,” Carreon ordered.
The moment Ernez did, Carreon spoke to Trinidad. “Heal him.”
She lifted her shoulders as if to say, sure, why not?, then took Ernez’s hand in both of hers and licked off his blood.
“Aw shit,” he growled, his upper lip curling, “don’t do that. You’ll give me some fucking disease, you goddamn—”
“Quiet,” Carreon snapped.
Disease or not, insult or not, Trinidad continued lapping until she’d apparently had her fill—or proved her point that she was one badass—then she laid her palm on Ernez’s.
Carreon leaned up, forearms on his knees. “What’s happening?”
Ernez spoke through clenched teeth. “She’s fucking burning me.”
Wrong. The healing always felt like that—a surge of nearly unbearable heat.
“Let him go,” Carreon said to Trinidad.
She finally did, after several seconds. Because she didn’t like anyone telling her what to do?
She’d better get over that shit and fast.
Carreon took Ernez’s hand and studied the wound. Narrower now, no longer bleeding but not healed entirely either. Trinidad had the gift, though not to the extent that Liz and her father did. For now, it would have to do.
Releasing Ernez, Carreon grabbed Trinidad’s wrists and directed her to straddle his lap. When her cunt was snuggled against his rigid cock, he turned his damaged ear toward her. “Heal me.”
Something in his tone or manner made her obey more readily than usual. She cupped his ear. A spark of energy flowed from her body to his. The heat became intolerable as Carreon knew it would. Despite the discomfort, he sighed happily.
The office phone rang. Ernez answered it, muttering a hello, after which he paused to listen, then mumbled something Carreon didn’t catch.
The stinging had turned to velvety warmth, allowing Carreon to concentrate on Trinidad’s nipples brushing his chest, her warmth and weight, her fragrance—soft musk with a hint of roses.
Ernez strode across the room and stopped at the sofa. “The men you ordered to your stronghold found something.”
Carreon regarded Ernez through hooded lids, irritation in his response. “What? Liz’s body? Her father’s? Don’t tell me Neekoma left them there.”
Worry crossed Ernez’s features. He handed the phone to Carreon. “You better hear it from them.”
Zeke captured Liz’s hands and pulled them away from the metal button on his jeans’ waistband.
Surprised, she asked, “What are you doing?” Was this a joke? Had to be…for reasons she couldn’t figure out. Even so, Liz decided to play along. “Since when are you reluctant to strip, especially in front of me?”
If not for all the people in this stronghold, Zeke would never have worn clothes around her.
“Come on,” she murmured. “Let me undress you. I want you inside of me.”
“No.”
No? Uh-uh. Liz didn’t believe that answer for a second. She saw the lust in his eyes, recognized the tension in his big body, had felt his rigid rod. If he got any harder and didn’t get immediate relief within her cunt or mouth, he’d be whimpering in pain. “You don’t want to make love?”
He eased her arms behind her back and held her as close as he could. His lips brushed her cheek, pulling a soft sigh from Liz. She released her weight into him. Zeke bore it well, as though he’d been born for this moment. With his face pressed to her hair, he inhaled deeply, no doubt to capture her shampoo’s lingering floral scent.
“I don’t want to rush,” he whispered. “Never again. This has to last.”
Liz wasn’t about to argue the point, needing the same. However, the way he said it—with such desperate need—made her pulse quicken with worry. “It will.”
As though he didn’t quite believe her, Zeke held Liz for minutes, his heart beating in time with hers, their scents mingling. She felt his increasing arousal, the rigidity of his cock pressed against her mound. Her cunt responded, growing wet, preparing for his shaft’s intimate invasion.
On a deep sigh that sounded utterly helpless, he finally eased back and lifted her tee. Slowly, though, so he could expose her torso a bit at a time. Her belly fluttered at the promise of her nudity and then his. When he’d bared her breasts, Zeke stopped to regard them in the room’s gentle glow.
Smiling, he ran his forefinger around her areolas, already tight with carnal hunger. He stroked the sensitive tips.
A riot of sensations thrummed through Liz. She shivered in delight and reached for his jeans again, eager to strip him.
Her fingers paused on the metal button. She recalled his request that he didn’t want to hurry through this. He—they—needed to savor these moments.
Why? Because Carreon was still out there and would soon be hunting Zeke again? Because Zeke’s people wouldn’t be mollified for long? They’d demand that she and her father leave? Because—
Her thoughts paused at Zeke’s mouth on her nipple. He flicked the tip with his tongue, then swept it over her areola’s bumpy contours. His mouth’s heat and the rasp of his beard-roughened skin against hers brought a new thrill.
On a pleased moan, Liz settled her hands on either side of his head and worked her fingers through his hair to keep him from stopping.
He drew her nipple deeper into his mouth and settled his hands on her ass, then squeezed those cheeks, using his touch to imprison her.
Liz never wanted to be separate from him. Her head fell back and her chin tilted upward. Zeke took that as an invitation to kiss her throat.
My God.
Warmth and yearning poured through Liz at the softness of his lips, the wet heat of his tongue. She sighed in willing surrender to whatever Zeke wanted to do, whatever pace he preferred. She was his. Had been from the moment he’d first mounted her in Carreon’s stronghold, his cock stretching, using her sheath. That evening, he’d taken her with a master’s right while also delivering exquisite pleasure.
At the time, she hadn’t expected to drown in his strength and passion. She’d been there merely to heal him.
It was what her heritage and gift demanded…at least until tonight.
Her desire receded as she recalled Zeke’s earlier behavior. Why hadn’t he wanted her to heal Jacob, Samuel or anyone else who might have needed her help? Why hadn’t he stripped her the moment they’d come in here, then pulled her on the bed unable to wait a second longer to plow inside her cunt?
She knew that was what he wanted to do, could feel it, and yet he kept holding back.
Was he worried she hadn’t fully recovered from Carreon’s attack? Didn’t he trust that her father’s healing…the reanimation…would last?
Liz ached for answers but didn’t speak. Zeke had asked her not to bombard him with questions. To simply hold him and follow his lead.
He lifted her bloodstained tee over her arms, past her head and tossed it aside. The garment landed on a chair near his bed. A beige-and-brown Indian blanket covered its seat, its bold geometric designs similar to the blankets draped across the mattress.
Zeke stepped away from her and kicked off his suede moccasins. His large feet and long toes were as masculine as the rest of him, urging Liz to fall to her knees. To kiss and lick his toes, then draw each into her mouth.
With all the will she owned, Liz resisted, because what she really wanted was to have him nude. Hell, she craved that as she had nothing else.
While she studied the impressive bulge between his legs, Zeke placed his hand on the limestone wall. Somehow, the rock morphed into a mirror, no different from the limestone in Jacob’s bath. Days ago, she’d been in there with him and Zeke. When she’d neared that wall, it had turned into a mirror too, showing her reflection. A phenomenon that still surprised her and now brought a wave of dismay.