"I know," she grumbled. She finished off her granola. "It's not mud."
The taste was amazing, Darius thought, and helped restore more of his vigor. What had Grace called this culinary treasure? An ay-klare. The delectable morsel wasn't quite as flavorful as Grace herself, but close. Were he to slather her body with it and lick away every trace, he might find release before he actually entered her.
For so long he'd tasted nothing, and now he tasted everything. He knew Grace was responsible, that she was the catalyst. He just didn't know how. Or why. And he was no closer to the answer than he had been before. But he didn't care. He reveled in these new experiences. When she was dead-was gone, he corrected, not liking her name associated with death-he wondered if he would ever taste again.
He took another bite of the ay-klare and noticed Grace eyeing his mouth with longing in her turquoise gaze. His stomach tightened. Did she crave him ? Or the food he ate? Most likely the food, his mused, and he bit back a self-deprecating chuckle. She'd very nearly bitten off his hand when he'd snatched the dessert from her, reminding him of a female dragon who'd gone far too long without food.
He waved the remaining piece under her nose, and her eyelids became heavy and sultry. "Would you like to share this with me?" he asked.
She moaned as if he'd just offered to make her dreams come true. Dreams that were forbidden, coveted. Dreams she couldn't acknowledge but craved with every ounce of her being.
"No," she said, that single word sounding raw, like it had been ripped from her throat.
She obviously wished to partake, and quite desperately, so why did she think to deny herself? No matter, he thought in the next instant. Before she could pull away, he placed the food at her lips. "Open," he commanded.
Automatically she obeyed. Then she gasped. Bit. Savored. As she chewed, she made noises of pleasure. Breathy noises he'd only heard from women in his bed. His blood heated, rushing from his head and into his shaft. Gods, he wanted this woman. His responses to her were coming more quickly now. A bit more intently, too. Where she was concerned, he was all beast. Primitive and unapologetically barbaric. One moment he wanted her slow and easy, tender. The next he wanted her rough, hard. Now.
He needed to sate himself on her, but to do so he needed to make her as desperate for him as she was for the dessert.
Her fingers curled around his hand, holding the ay-klare in place. "Oh, my God," she said, eyes closed. "That is so good."
At the first touch of her fingers, white-hot heat speared him. He jerked away from her, then found himself reaching out again, reaching to take her by the base of her neck and yank her to him. Reaching out to kiss her, hard and deep and wet. He dropped his hands at his sides. Teeth grinding together, he increased his speed.
He had to remain focused where this woman was concerned. The time for making her desire him would come after he'd learned all that he could from her and the other humans. Damn this!
"Slow down," she huffed after a few minutes.
He tossed her a glance over his shoulder and noticed a dark smudge marring the edge of her lip. Before he could stop himself, he extended his arm and swiped the smudge away with his fingertip. He kept the contact light, quick. If he lingered, if he prolonged the contact, he would strip her. Penetrate her. He was near his breaking point already.
He turned his face from her so she wouldn't see him lick the morsel he'd swiped from her off his finger.
"Slow down," she said again. As she dictated directions, she had to pump her arms and jog to keep up with him. "Will you slow down already? I've had enough exercise these last few days to last me a lifetime."
"You may rest when we have completed our mission."
"I'm not one of your men. And just so you know, the outcome of this is just as important to me as it is to you-if not more so-but I'll be no good to anyone if I collapse."
He slowed.
"Thank you," she said. "I didn't even move that quickly when I thought I was being followed yesterday."
Darius ground to a halt, causing the couple behind him to slam into his back. He remained in place, absorbing the impact without moving an inch. With muttered curses, the glaring pair scurried around him.
"You were followed?" Darius demanded, glaring. "By whom? Man or woman? Were you hurt?"
When Grace realized he was no longer beside her, that she'd actually passed him, she had to stop and backtrack, hopping over a piece of chewed gum, then scurrying around a vender selling pirated DVDs until she reached his side. "I'm not sure," she said. "A man, I think, though I never saw him. And no, he didn't hurt me."
"Then he might be allowed to live another day."
Oh, my, Grace thought, breathless again for a reason that had nothing to do with exercise. Sunlight couched Darius's features, giving his cheekbones and nose a harsh sort of radiance. When he turned on the intensity like this, going all commando, her belly did strange things. Her mind did strange things. Like try to convince her to throw herself in his arms, sweep her tongue into his mouth, and rub herself against him, all over him, and forget about the rest of the world.
"I will hold sentry at your side," he said, his gaze already scanning the area, searching. "If this man comes near you today, I will eliminate him. Worry not."
She nodded, fighting an involuntary shiver. Despite everything, or maybe because of it, she knew Darius would keep her safe. As they jolted back into motion, he continually watched the world around him, taking in every detail and missing nothing. Like the guard he'd promised to be, he remained on alert.
If they were being followed, he would know-and she pitied whoever it was.
CHAPTER 15
Only two minutes passed before Darius dragged her into a nearby souvenir shop, shoving people aside in his haste to enter.
"I'm so sorry, ma'am," Grace said. "You, too, sir." To Darius, she demanded quietly, "What are you doing?"
The fierce gleam in his ice-blue eyes made her swallow a lump of apprehension. "You were right," he said. "You were being followed." He glanced over his shoulder. "You still are."
"What!" she gasped, just as he pinned her against a rack of T-shirts. She'd felt no menacing presence today, felt no watchful eyes on her back.
"I would have noticed sooner," he said wryly, keeping his gaze trained on the store window, "but my mind was not where it should have been."
"What should we do? Who is it?"
"A human male. Short. He's wearing some type of coat, yet the day is warm."
Grace tried to peek over Darius's shoulder, but it proved too broad and too high. "Can he see us?"
"No, but he's waiting outside this shop."
"Let's go out the back. He'll never know, and we can-"
"No." Darius skimmed his hands inside his pockets, gave a flick of his wrists, and plucked out two daggers. The thickness of his hands and forearms kept the blades concealed from the public, but she knew they were there. He gripped each jeweled weapon tightly. "I wish to have a… conversation with the man."
Stunned, horrified, she only managed a choked gasp in response.
Good Lord. There might be a bloodbath this day.
"You can't kill anyone," she whispered fiercely. Her gaze darted around wildly. Tourists were staring at them like they were the morning's entertainment. "Please," she added more quietly, "put the knives away before someone notices them."
"The knives stay," he said, his voice cold, unfeeling.
"You don't understand. This-"
"No, Grace." He pinned her with a glare. " You don't understand. Purchase something from this store. Anything. Now."