He wasn't.
He lingered.
His breath ragged, Darius continued to drink in the sight of his tormentor. She wore a thin white shirt, leaving her shoulders bare and glistening in the moonlight Leaving her full breasts clearly outlined. Her nipples formed shadowed circles he longed to trace with his tongue. He watched the rise and fall of her chest, watched the life that radiated from her. The longer he studied her, the more starved and desperate he felt for her. What would her heartbeat feel like under his palms? Steady and gentle? Or hurried and erratic? His blood sang with vitality, rushing to his cock and hardening him painfully.
I do not want to hurt this woman , he thought. I want to relish every moment in her presence . He shook his head against such dishonorable thoughts.
He had lived so long by his oath of death and destruction that he knew not what to make of these newly acquired desires-desires that had not muted with the distance between them.
Desires such as these could drive a man from his chosen path, push him and beat him down until he collapsed from regret. He frowned as something occurred to him. Perhaps the gods had created Grace merely to punish him. He'd often thought he could endure any punishment stricken upon him. If he'd only known how cruel the gods could be…
Grace muttered something under her breath, then gently, delightfully moaned. What did she dream of? He would be lying if he denied that he wished her to dream of him. She fascinated him in so many ways. Her resourcefulness. Her bravery in challenging him as few men had ever dared. Her defiance.
What would she do if he lay down beside her on the bed? If he stripped the clothes from her body and tasted every inch of her honey-smooth skin-lingering, savoring, sinking deeply into the hot moistness between her thighs? Sliding, slipping, slowly pumping?
He tore his gaze from her. Gird yourself against her. Distance yourself from the situation . Stay sane. Sure. This woman posed a greater threat than any army. She had plunged through the mist and completely destroyed his sense of order. She had violated his innermost thoughts, ignored his commands and lured him to dishonor with her beauty.
And yet she still lived.
He couldn't recall the last time he'd had a woman, but knew it had been primitive, savage and quick, as were all his sexual encounters. With this woman, Darius desired something slow and easy. Something gentle. Like their kiss.
As he observed the rest of the room, he saw floral curtains hanging over both windows, each a symphony of colors. Pink, yellow, blue, purple… Colors more beautiful than he remembered. A mirror consumed one wall, while flowers and vines were painted on another. Green leaves and purple grapes bloomed in feigned sunlight. Grace was a woman who enjoyed the sensuality of life. Things he, too, enjoyed of late.
Grace, Grace, Grace . His mind chanted her name. If he could have one more taste of her, he could forget her. Just one more . He found himself approaching the side of the bed. Compelled by a force greater than himself, he leaned down and inhaled her exotic fragrance. His eyes closed as he relished the carnal sweetness of her. He gently caressed his lips against hers. Lost in her dreams, she instinctively tried to mold herself against him.
He knew, though, that if she'd awoken just then she would have fought him. He knew it as surely as he knew his will to resist her could not survive any more bodily contact. Not knowing what else to do, he uttered a temporary peace spell that would keep her relaxed for the first few moments after she woke.
When he finished, he straightened. "Grace," he said softly. "Awaken."
"Hmm," she muttered. Her eyes remained blissfully closed as she shifted, causing the pale pink and emerald linens enfolding her to wrinkle and bunch.
"Grace," he said again. "We must talk."
Slowly her eyelids fluttered open. She offered him a drowsy sweet smile. "Darius?" she asked breathlessly.
At the sound of his name on her lips, his mouth went dry, and he found himself unable to reply.
"You're here." Her smile widening, she stretched her arms over her head and purred low in her throat. "Am I dreaming?" She considered her words, and her brow wrinkled. "This doesn't feel like a dream."
"No dream," he said, the words ragged. The color of her eyes was far more beautiful than any other color he'd ever encountered.
"So you're real?" she asked, not the least afraid of him.
He nodded, knowing the peace spell was responsible for her languor. It was irrational, he knew, but he wished he himself had caused such a reception, not his powers.
"What are you doing here?"
"I have more questions for you."
"I'm glad you came," she said.
"I need the medallion, Grace. Where is it?"
She watched him for a long, slumberous moment, then eased up and wound her arms around his neck, crashing her breasts into his chest. She tugged him closer until they were nose to nose. "Questions later," she said. "Kiss now."
His nostrils flared at her demand-but not in anger. A traitorous fire licked through him. He'd meant to relax her, not arouse her. Gods, he'd cast the peace spell to avoid touching her, yet here she was demanding that he do so! "Release me," he said softly, knowing he could pull himself away if only he could find the will.
"I don't want to." Her fingers toyed with the hair at the base of his neck, and her eyes beseeched him. "Every night I've dreamt of our kiss. It's the only thing I've ever done that made me feel complete, and I want more." She frowned slightly. "I don't know why I just told you that. I-Why am I not afraid of you?"
I deserve a beating , he berated himself, but he lowered his head anyway. Her admission lured him as surely as a beckoning finger. He was helpless against her allure. Any moment the aura of peace around her would wither, and she would jerk away from him. Until then… "Open," he told her. And he didn't care what type of man this made him. Dishonorable, so be it.
She immediately obeyed. His tongue swept inside, swirling and searching. His rough moan blended with her airy sigh. She was a mélange of flavors: warm, delicious, mesmerizing. It was a taste he'd experienced only once before, the first time they kissed. He wanted to experience that sweetness again and again.
She clutched at his shirt, then kneaded his neck, opening herself up, silently demanding he hold nothing back. He was humbled that she responded to him so openly, so uninhibitedly and so quickly. A deep-seated yearning to let her goodness seep into him blossomed and heightened. How desperately he wanted to press deeply inside her, over and over, and take her in every position imaginable until this hunger for her vanished.
He eased himself on top of her, allowing them both to lie in her bed as he'd imagined doing moments before. He gently rolled them to their sides. Had she been coaxing him to his death, he gladly would have followed. The full lushness of her breasts cushioned his chest. Besides the thin shirt, she wore a small patch of lace between her thighs. She was the most erotic little creature, and he deeply resented the menial barriers preventing complete skin to skin contact.
She settled one leg over his waist, cradling him intimately, and he sank deeper into the apex of her legs. He hissed in a breath at the exquisite pleasure. He knew he should shove her away, knew he should begin the questioning. He did not have much time, for he already felt the weakening effects of leaving Atlantis.
But he could not stop. Was helpless. Desperate for her.
He had to have this woman.
His lust for her was dangerous, forbidden, but time slipped outside of reality, and Darius allowed himself to feel instead of think. As he did so, the very things he'd always despised became his greatest allies. Tenderness. Passion. Greed. Warm, female flesh tantalized him. Her sweet, feminine scent drugged him. Smooth and perfect A sheen of sweat covered his brow.