But three months in captivity, added to her discovery of what Fiona Gaines had endured since the late 1800s, had shifted something inside her.
She couldn’t go back to Mortal Earth, not now, not ever. It wasn’t so much that she believed she belonged on Second Earth; rather, she had a job to do, and she could only do it if she chose this world here and now. Maybe choosing ascension would mean an eternity with Antony, maybe it wouldn’t. But right now she wasn’t choosing Antony, she was choosing a sense of duty and purpose.
But how did this man, this fantasy of maleness, fit into her change of heart? She just didn’t know. The thought of being with him in a real sense, not a fantasy, frightened her—and not because he was powerful. What frightened her was how vulnerable she felt when she was with him, as though the real power he had over her was that he could hold her heart in his hand and crush it, something she had not allowed from anyone since her fiancé had walked out on her. She had kept her heart close and safe in the same way she’d kept her friends at a distance.
She had learned from an early age to live a life of independence.
But now she was here, in Antony’s shower, with his arms wrapped around her holding her up. From the moment she had first seen him, she’d wanted to kiss him, to press her lips to his beautiful mouth, to see what it would be like to be connected in that very simple way to this powerful warrior.
He looked down at her now, his arms tense behind her back, his nostrils flaring, but he seemed frozen. Perhaps he sensed her reticence, or maybe he was just being considerate after all she’d been through.
So she moved. She slid her arm up and around his neck, his thick, muscled warrior neck. His hair was trapped in the cadroen. She leaned up on tiptoes. She drew very close to his face. He searched her eyes.
“So beautiful” came as a soft murmur, a gentle waterfall from his lips.
She pressed her mouth to his, just so, not hard, not gentle, a first meeting, an invitation, a decision.
He trembled. She felt it all down his body, in every place he was connected to her.
He moaned and his body moved serpent-like, a fluid motion of sensation. His arms traveled around her even more, gathering her close. She drifted her mouth from side to side, and his lips parted. She kept drifting until she took his breath into her body and all that sage traveled into her lungs.
His scent rose inside up and up, then penetrated her brain. She weaved on her feet.
One of his arms left her back, and he shut off the water. “Will you come to my bed?”
The decision was already made. She couldn’t deny the man who had saved her life, who had saved her sanity during a period of incarceration, who smelled of heaven and earth blended into one.
She nodded.
He backed out of the shower, still holding her close. Was he afraid she would vanish from his arms? But then why wouldn’t he be? She had done that already when Rith took her from his villa. He had told her of his fears. He had told her during those wicked moments of self-pleasure when he knew she was close but couldn’t hear her.
Antony, she sent now.
He grabbed a towel and wrapped it around her, never losing eye contact or physical connection. I hear you.
Can you hear all my words now? Can you hear every thought I send? Tell me in a way that I can understand.
He smiled, and the tenderness in his eyes and in the curve of his lips made something deep within her chest begin to burn with life. “I can hear every thought you send, Parisa.”
She sent, Every damn f**king horrible thought? She dared him to hear her and to repeat her words.
The curve became a smile, a grin, a promise of the future. “Yes. Every damn f**king horrible thought. But Parisa, what happened? How did you suddenly find your telepathic voice? It seemed like a miracle. But how?”
She threw her arms around his neck and held him close. “I don’t want to talk about it, not yet. Oh, Antony, you came for me. You came for me.”
“Of course I did.” The towel fell to the floor as he enveloped her in his powerful arms and pulled her against him.
She almost couldn’t breathe, but she didn’t care. She had been breathing and alone for the past three months. Let him suffocate her with his nearness, with his embrace, with his musky sage scent.
She turned her face into him. Leaning up on tiptoes, she licked his skin right below his ear. He tasted like something she should eat. She bit and nibbled and he held her tight. He lifted her off her feet and waggled her legs in the air. He turned her in a circle.
“There is something I must know,” he said. He set her down and looked into her eyes. All the sudden joy had left his face.
“No,” she said, understanding the question before he spoke the words. “He did not touch me. No one touched me. I am unharmed in that way.” Because she saw the doubt in his eyes, she added, “Rith did not violate me, nor did any of his people.”
“You were never harmed,” he stated.
He stared into her eyes. She knew she could withhold nothing from him. That would be an unforgivable cruelty in her opinion.
“Tell me what your eyes are saying,” he said. “Speak the words.”
“Rith disciplined me into obedience. He invaded my mind when I displeased him. It hurt. Badly. I learned very quickly to do as I was told and to follow the schedule. Rith was very big on schedules.”
His jaw worked until it became a tremor. He began to shake until he had to release her. His hands formed fists and he lifted his head and released a cry to the ceiling. He cried out again and again. The cries became howls until the mirror shattered and fell straight down onto the black marble sink.
Only then, as the glass fell, did the anguish seem to expel from his body.
She moved toward him. His eyes were glazed, sunken, his cheeks gaunt. He needed time to heal as much as she did.
She put her hands on his chest. She rubbed his skin and let her fingers drift over the fine black hair between his pecs, something she had wanted to do for so long. She bent her head and began to kiss the round, fierce strength of his muscles. She licked and kissed and stroked. She lowered her cheek and rubbed her face against his chest. His hands rested lightly on her shoulders.
His body grew stiff and unyielding. “I failed you,” he said. His voice had a dead quality. He had retreated someplace very dark.
She dipped lower and ran her tongue over his nipple. Then she bit him. Hard.
He pulled back and cried out. A heavy scowl rode his face, pulling down. “What was that for?”
“Apparently, you think you need to be punished for not being all-powerful. So I punished you.”