There was no other word for it. It was the cry of an exultant male claiming his mate.
She had time to thank her lucky amber that none of her relatives were in the room next door before she collapsed along the length of him.
A LONG TIME LATER HE ROUSED HIMSELF, ROLLED AWAY from her, and flopped back onto the pillows. There was enough emerald-tinted light coming through the sliding glass door to show her that he was smiling with masculine satisfaction.
“You always do that?” he asked.
“Do what?”
“Scream.”
She blushed furiously. Well, at least with all the shadows he couldn’t see her turning bright pink.
“I don’t know,” she mumbled.
He levered himself up on one elbow and looked down at her. “Why don’t you know?”
“I’ve never done that before.”
“Screamed?”
“Had an orgasm.”
He was clearly taken back. “Are you sure?”
“It isn’t the kind of thing you make a mistake about, is it?”
“No, it’s not.”
“Trust me, I’ve never felt anything that delicious before in my life. I’d have remembered.”
“Sorry you had to wait this long, but I have to tell you I’m very glad I was around when it finally happened.”
“Me, too.” She wound her arms around his neck. “You think maybe we could try it again? Make sure it wasn’t a one-time thing?”
“My pleasure.”
He bent his head and covered her mouth with his own. Energy flared once more in the shadowed room.
A LONG TIME LATER, SHE AWOKE WITH A START, AWARE that she was being carried in a man’s arms. Fear lanced through her, bringing with it memories of the terrible night that Benson Landry had carried her into the hotel room, pretending to the staff that she was intoxicated.
“No.” Instinctively she started to struggle.
The arms that cradled her tightened, imprisoning her against a hard male chest.
“Take it easy,” Davis said gently. “You’re okay. You’re just dreaming.”
The reassuring sound of his voice and the familiar pulse of his psi waves drove out the brief panic. She opened her eyes and looked up at him.
“What are you doing?” she asked, still disoriented.
“Taking you back to your bed.”
That didn’t sound promising.
“Why?” she asked, bewildered now.
“I like to sleep alone,” he said quietly. He put her down onto her bed and straightened. “Don’t take it personally.”
She was mortified. He might be perfect for her, but in spite of what they had just shared, the feeling was not reciprocated. It was not as if he had not warned her that he was not interested in long-term relationships, she reminded herself. And it was not as if there were rules against one-night stands for very good reasons. Still, kicking her out of his bed before the night was over seemed a little extreme.
She felt humiliated. She was also furious.
“Got news for you,” she said. “I am taking it personally.”
She pulled the covers up to her chin, rolled onto her side, and turned away from him.
He did not leave immediately. She could feel him standing there, looking down at her. She held her breath, wondering if he would change his mind.
“Good night,” he said very quietly.
He went back into his own room. She lay awake for a long time, looking out the window at the glowing green spires and towers of the Dead City. Araminta hopped up onto the bed, cuddled close, and made soft little sounds.
He’s Mr. Almost Perfect, Celinda reminded herself, not Mr. Perfect. Get used to it.
She finally went to sleep.
Chapter 17
BENSON LANDRY’S PHONE REZZED LOUDLY. HE HAD JUST disengaged from the luscious, energetic, extremely inventive blonde, and he was enjoying the pleasant ennui of the aftermath. He was in no mood to take the call. But there weren’t many people who had his private number. When someone used it, there was always a reason.
He rolled away from the blonde, sat up on the edge of the bed, and reached for the phone.
“Landry,” he said. “This had better be important.”
“If you will give me five minutes of your valuable time, I think you will find what I have to say very interesting, Mr. Landry.”
The voice was cultured, resonant, authoritative. It was also unfamiliar. That was enough to rez a slew of alarm bells.
“Who is this?” he asked sharply.
“My name is Dr. Titus G. Kennington. I believe you and I have an acquaintance in common. A woman named Celinda Ingram.”
His insides went cold. He reached back and gave the blonde a hard shove.
She got the message. It wasn’t the first time he had sent her away immediately after he had finished with her. Expressionless, she got out of bed, picked up her things, and went into the bathroom to dress.
“What about Celinda Ingram?” he said into the phone, suppressing the urgency that had suddenly consumed him. He had thought that problem had been settled four months ago.
“We’ll get to her in a moment. First, let us discuss our partnership.”
“Why in green hell should I take you on as a partner?”
“Because I am prepared to give you something you want very badly in exchange.”
“That would be?”
“I can ensure first that you become the new boss of the Frequency Guild. I am also prepared to go further. I will help you achieve your other goals: a bride from a wealthy, high-ranking, non-Guild family and a shot at a senate seat.”
I’m dealing with a real nutcase, Benson thought. But since this particular whack job had gotten close enough to obtain his private number, he had to pay attention. The only thing he could do was keep the guy talking as long as possible so that he could get enough information to find him.
“Sounds promising,” he said. “Out of curiosity, how are you going to go about fulfilling your end of the bargain?”
The blonde emerged from the bathroom, fully dressed. She went to the door without a word and let herself out into the hall. Benson ignored her. His security staff would escort her off the estate.
“You will soon see,” Kennington said. “Now, then, as a member of the Frequency Guild Council, I assume you’ve heard the rumors about a certain alien relic that went missing from the Cadence Guild security vault?”
This was getting more interesting by the second. Maybe the guy wasn’t a total whack job after all.
“There’s talk going around that an artifact was stolen,” he said carefully. “Wyatt is keeping the whole thing quiet, but they say he’s looking hard. He wants it back.”
“He wants to recover it because it is extremely unusual,” Kennington said. “It’s made of a type of amber that no one has come across before. But not even Wyatt knows about the relic’s unique properties.”
“What properties?”
“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you, so I suggest a demonstration, instead.”
“If you think I’m going to waste my time—”
“I assure you, Mr. Landry, once you have seen what the ruby amber device can do, you will be extremely eager to form a partnership with me.”
“How are you going to demonstrate the damn thing if it’s missing?”
“I’ll let you in on a little secret, sir, something that no one else knows. There are two ruby amber artifacts in existence. I’ve got the other one.”
“In that case, why do you want a second one?”
“It is simply too powerful and too valuable to be left in the hands of people who have no idea what it can do.”
“Why make a deal with me?” Benson asked.
“I think, given the course of recent events, that your odds of recovering the second relic are much better than mine,” Kennington said.
“Why?”
“A variety of reasons. First, the person who knows the location of the other relic is currently in Frequency City. That is your town. As a Guild Councilman you can operate freely without inviting unwanted scrutiny. And last, but certainly not least, you have an intimate acquaintance with Celinda Ingram.”