"And do you still crave excitement?" he asked softly, menacingly. "Do not think to deny it because I know you do," he added when she opened her mouth to protest. "I sense the need inside you. I sense it pulsing through your veins even now."
Her throat constricted, and she gulped.
Dismay whirled in the turquoise cauldron of her eyes, but he also saw hunger, a tempest of desire. She would never be happy with an ordinary life. She needed adventure, needed her deepest fantasies realized, and though it was irrational, he wanted to be the one to give her those things.
His gaze swept to her lips. He found himself closing the rest of the distance, a heartbeat away from possessing her mouth with his own. She jackknifed to her feet, turning her back toward him, granting him a tantalizing view of her cascading curls.
A lovely view to be sure, but not the one he craved.
"I'm sorry." Grace fingered her lips. Darius hadn't kissed her, had only come within a whisper of her, but still her lips throbbed for him. Of all the things he'd done to her, of all the things he'd made her feel, she feared this the most… this seemingly unquenchable desire she had for him. This need for him, and only him. This consuming ache for his touch that made her forget the only thing she should care about. Her brother.
But…
The more time she spent in Darius's presence, the more she saw past his cold, callous mask and into the heart of a vulnerable man. And that made her want him all the more. That scared her all the more. Such intense longing bordered on obsession. No man should have that much power over her. No man should be able to wrap sultry coils around her and consume her every thought.
Most women dreamt of having such a strong, sensual man at their fingertips. A week ago, she would have been in their ranks, thinking there was nothing more a woman could want than a man who looked at her with undeniable hunger, as if there were no other woman who could make him feel that way. Right now, Grace felt too exposed, too vulnerable.
"I'm not ready for this," she said. "Not ready for you. Last night, and even in Atlantis, everything seemed surreal. This… doesn't. This is real and in-your-face and can never be undone. I'm just not ready," she said again. "More than that, the timing is horrible. My first concern has to be my brother's welfare. Not my own… desires."
While she rattled off her list of reasons she shouldn't bed him, Darius's mind formed a list of all the reasons she should. And only one of them mattered. She's mine , he thought. His instincts had tried to warn him, had actually screamed it was so when he last kissed her. This undeniable tug had been between them since the beginning, and it wasn't going away. He admitted as much now. He wouldn't forget his oath, but he would have this woman. Where she was concerned, he could fight his needs no longer.
He would be doing himself a favor, he rationalized, if he took her and rid himself of this growing obsession for her.
He wanted to rise and reach out to clasp her by the waist. He forced himself to remain in place, hands at his sides. He would take her, yes. But he would take her when it was she who was desperate for their loving. Not him. Beads of sweat popped onto his brow and dripped from his temples. He fisted his hands in the soft couch cushions.
Needing a distraction, Darius stood and liberated the journal from between her fingers. She gasped at the sudden loss and spun to glare at him. As she watched, he tossed the little book into a bowl and ignited a fire-with his mouth. He was surprised when the fire quickly dwindled to nothing, and he frowned. The fire should have lasted much longer. His powers must be weaker than he'd realized.
"Fire flew out of your mouth." Grace gaped. "Fire really and truly flew out of your mouth."
"Yes."
"But fire flew out of your mouth."
"I did tell you I was a dragon."
"I just didn't expect fire to fly out of your freaking mouth." Grace struggled to form a proper response. Darius really was a dragon. The concept was laughable-or should have been. All of it should have been laughable. Atlantis, misty portals, the gods. Yet she'd skipped right along, accepting every fantastical experience tossed her way.
But this… She expected her brain to shout it's too much. I can't accept another implausible happening .
Surprisingly enough, her mind didn't shout. Her mind welcomed.
She toyed with the ends of her hair and expelled a breath. When she was a little girl, her father had read her a book every night. His favorite had been the story of a long ago prince who rescued a princess from a fierce dragon. Grace had never liked that story. She'd always wanted the dragon to defeat the puny prince so the princess could sail through the clouds on his back. A real, live dragon sat in her living room.
"What else can you do?" she asked, her voice raspy.
He merely lifted a brow, a wouldn't-you-like-to-know glint in his eyes.
"Well?" she demanded.
"When you are prepared for the answer, perhaps I'll tell you. Until then… " He shrugged.
"Fine," she huffed. "If you won't tell me about your abilities, at least tell me why you destroyed my brother's journal. I wanted to give it back to him."
"There can be no record of Atlantis." As he spoke, the blue of his eyes swirled and churned with a life of its own, like the very mist he guarded. "I decided to either destroy the book or destroy you. Perhaps I made the wrong choice."
She preferred the other Darius, the honey-eyed Darius. The man who made her blood sing and her deepest fantasies cry for him. The man who twisted her into knots.
"You will obtain the vests now," he told her, crossing his arms over his chest.
Her nose crinkled. "What vests?"
"The ones you promised to buy for me in the cave. The ones that protect against guns."
That's right. She had promised him. With a sigh, Grace loped down the hall and into her room. After she booted up the computer-with Darius standing over her the entire time, his hands on either side of her armrests, his chest pressing into her back-she found a site that specialized in guns and other equipment.
"I like this thing," he said. "This computer."
With him so near, she had trouble concentrating. "The vests are two-hundred-and-fifty dollars each," she said, squirming in her seat. Maybe she should turn on the air conditioner. Her skin suddenly felt too tight for her body. "Do you still want to buy one?"
"One? No. I wish to purchase twenty. For now."
"Twenty! Where will you get the money? I doubt you brought any with you."
"I will allow you to pay for them."
Of course he would. "You want extra large, I take it?" Doing this was probably going to place her on the FBI's most-watched list. But Darius wanted the vests, and what Darius wanted, she would acquire for him. They were helping each other, after all.
She placed the order and had to use both of her credit cards. She also requested overnight shipping for double the mailing expense. "They'll arrive in the morning."
"I want to visit the Argonauts," Darius said. "Afterward, we will purchase bullets and you will show me how to use them."
Such a dictator, she thought, and wondered, foolishly, if he'd be that demanding in bed. She stole a glance at the hard angles of his profile. Oh, yes. He'd be demanding and the knowledge made her shiver. With a gulp, she flipped off her computer and swiveled in her chair, dislodging his hands. "Do you think they know more than they told me?"
"Perhaps. Perhaps not."
Which told her nothing. "If we leave now, we can be there within the hour."
"Not quite yet." He leaned down, replacing his palms on the arms of her chair. Her knees bumped his thighs as his gaze traveled all over her. Burning her. Devouring her in a way that should have been illegal. He saw past her clothes, she suspected breathlessly, and saw the hard pebbles of her nipples. "First," he said, "you will bathe. Quickly," he added.