Conn clicked off with a growl, taking a moment to study her with those dangerous green eyes. “Are you sure you’re unharmed?”
“I’m fine.” But she wasn’t. The quiet hum of the engines and darkness outside lent an intimacy to the interior she’d like to avoid. Conn’s scent of leather and gunpowder permeated the space, sending her pulse jogging and her thighs softening. An inevitable reaction to a vampire mate. “You were shot.”
He nodded, ripping off his dark shirt to reveal bullet holes that were already closing. “The bullets fell out on the way.” Quick swipes with the shirt had the blood wiped off his cut abdomen.
Moira inhaled deeply. How had she’d forgotten the breadth of his chest? The sheer muscle and strength in that smooth torso? She cleared her throat. “I figured.”
His gaze remained on her as if waiting, patient and prepared, to pounce.
They needed to talk, but the words escaped her. After some thought, she gave it a try. “Why did you yell at the king?”
Metallic eyes flashed. “His scouts and informants are pathetic.” Conn ran a rough hand through thick hair. “We have a leak. No way it’s a coincidence you get attacked by Kurjans the day I show up in Ireland. They found you because of me.”
Bollocks. Unease filtered within her already heating blood. “That’s probably not exactly true.” Only honed strength of will kept her from fidgeting.
Conn lifted his head in the manner of a panther spotting prey. Though identical to hers, his couch seemed a lot smaller. “What do you mean?”
“Ahhh.” She was a fighter. As a member of the enforcers, she fought fear every day. Not only fear, but enemy combatants with more experience and devastating weapons. Facing one lone vampire should not create this churning in her stomach. “This wasn’t their first attempt.” Her voice emerged much softer than she’d intended.
Tension slammed through the enclosed space. “Excuse me?”
His softness exceeded hers in a way that caught the breath in her throat. She forced her hands to remain calmly by her sides. Keeping her face placid, she faced down the vampire.
Sprawled across the aisle, bare to the waist with no weapons, danger all but surrounded him. Came from him. An irony of fate. True predators blended with their surroundings. The high cheekbones and handsome face masked the most deadly warrior in history.
One she was going to really piss off. “The Kurjans tried to take me on two previous occasions.” She waited for the explosion.
None came.
Conn didn’t move a muscle, just kept that glittering gaze on her. His lids half lowered. “Say that again.”
Oh hell no. The words were hard enough to say the first time. She eyed the back of the plane. A full bathroom and bedroom waited at the rear. No safety there.
“I’m a good fighter, Conn.” Damn it. She didn’t need to defend herself. His organs were safe as well. Her ability to melt organs so far only worked on humans, probably due to their less complex genetic makeup ... a fact he didn’t need to know.
“What do you expect me to do with this information, Moira?” The innocuous words did nothing to mask the bite behind them.
Shove it up his ass? “Not a damn thing.” Anger began to slide through her veins.
He straightened up, leaning forward. “There’s the rub, Dailtín. How long have you known me?”
The conversation was beginning to close her throat—too many land mines. “A century.” She looked for the trap. Conn wasn’t a man to talk. For as long as she’d known him, action had been his mantra.
“How did you think I’d react to your joining the enforcers, taking a vow to give your life for them, coupled with hiding the Kurjan’s attack on you?” He cocked his head to the side in curiosity ... or for a better angle on her jugular. Probably the jugular.
“I didn’t give you a thought.” The lie nearly caught in her throat. The brand on her hip flared to life in a flash of pain. “You’re at war, Connlan. As the commander of all the Realm soldiers, you have enough responsibilities.” She spat the last word out.
One dark eyebrow rose. “Is that what you are, Moira? A responsibility?” Threat existed in each syllable.
She jumped up. The bedroom door probably held a lock. “Yes.”
The plane rocked when he slid to his feet, blocking her path to the bedroom. “Then apparently I’ve ignored my responsibilities long enough.”
He loomed over her. She had two choices—either knock him aside or take a step back—and only a split second to decide which one to make. The rational decision was step back and reason with him.
Fuck reason.
She pivoted, kicking him solidly in the shin while dodging forward and shooting her body into his gut in a move guaranteed to throw him over her shoulder.
Except it didn’t.
Strong hands gripped her arms and tossed her up in the air—two feet off the ground. Her head missed the top of the plane by a mere inch. She gave a startled yelp, the sound gargling in her throat when he caught her by the biceps, holding her aloft like a limp doll. She lost her breath.
Fury. Pure anger blazed fire through his eyes and a deep crimson spread across his cheekbones. “Your freedom has ended, Brat.” He lowered her to her feet and his mouth crashed down on hers. A century ago he’d used persuasion and seduction. Today he took. Raw and demanding, his lips explored while his tongue commanded a kiss that tasted like sin and felt like ownership. Gone were the charming prince and the reasonable mate. In their place stood a predator finally unleashed, playing for keeps.
Lights exploded behind her eyelids. Need ripped through her body in a force too painful to be called desire. Or even lust. No words could describe the craving that shot fire from every nerve ending. She whimpered, returning his kiss, tangling her tongue with his. A roaring set up in her ears, the brand on her hip scalding with demand. Too much, too much, too much. She lifted her hands and shoved against his chest. Heat filled her palms.
With a soft cry, she wrenched her head away. “Wait.” Pain. So much need in her body. The only solution to the need held her.
“Wait for what?” Anger still filled his gaze.
Air. She needed air. Filling her lungs, she fought to steady her breath. “Wait.” She held out a hand, panic battling with the craving he’d lit. “This is, I mean, this is ... ”
He smiled. The wicked curve of his lips promised sin. “This is inevitable.”
She swallowed loudly. “No. I mean, it’s been a century. You know. Since ... ” Since her first time. Her only time. The air whished through the vents, and she shivered.
Nimble fingers caressed down her arms. Surprise lifted his eyebrows. “That night was the wildest of my entire life.” A too-knowing gaze wandered her face, studying what had to be blazing color. “Oh.”
Yeah, oh. She took a tenuous step back.
His eyes softened. Graceful as any panther, he sat down and lifted her to straddle his legs. “Sweetheart. It only hurts the first time.”
True. The second, third and even fourth of that night had been incredible. “I know.” His legs warmed her inner thighs and she fought the urge to rub against him. “But, well, maybe we should spend time getting to know each other first, this time.” Her body howled in protest. Not by any stretch did she consider they’d never lie together again. She had too much need, too much curiosity to walk away without seeing if sex with Conn was as good as she remembered.
“Ah.” His smile was lethal. “I have a photographic memory, Moira. I know every inch of you.” His palm traveled down her back to tap one finger at the top of her left buttock. Heat flushed along her skin. “For example, right here there’s a tiny mark in the shape of a waning moon.”