Assassin's Honor (23 page)

           
"Well, here's a surprise. No special powers to hold me hostage," she said with a sneer. Her pointed look at his hand on her arm made him grimace.

           
"Damno id, Emma, you're not a hostage."

           
"Then why do I feel like one," she snapped with just an edge of fear.

           
The heartfelt emotion in her voice tightened his gut. The fact that she wasn't hysterical showed how strong she was. Only someone with incredible reserves of personal strength could have survived everything she had in the past five years without falling apart. She'd shown a courage that rivaled the Sicari fighters he led. And to adapt as quickly as she had to the reality of her current situation only made him like her more. The need to ease her fear surged through him, and he caressed her cheek with his hand.

           
"You're afraid because you're not in control of events happening around you. It's understandable." When she averted her gaze, he caught her chin and forced her to look at him. "And while I might have made a mistake entering your house last night, I'd do it again if it meant keeping you safe."

           
"I know that." She closed her eyes at his words and nodded. "And I'm not ungrateful. Really, I'm not. I'm just confused and overwhelmed by it all."

           
"And all this time I was thinking it was my boyish charm that had you off-balance," he said with a soft laugh, hoping some levity would ease her tension.

           
Her eyes flew open as she looked up at him with surprise. Satisfaction curled through him at the look of annoyance darkening her hazel eyes. At least she'd lost that woebegone look. That particular look had been making it almost impossible to keep his hands off her. Every time it darkened her features, he wanted to pull her into his arms and hold her until she felt safe. And that was a dangerous path to follow.

           
"I'd hardly consider your charm boyish," she said in a breathless voice.

           
He liked the low, husky sound of her voice. With a light touch, he trailed his fingers down the side of her face and across her shoulder. When she shivered beneath his touch, he fought against the urge to pull her into his arms.

           
"Hmm, now you've aroused my curiosity. How would you describe my ability to beguile the female sex?" He leaned into her and smiled as she bent backward slightly without retreating.

           
"I've not given it any thought at all."

           
"Haven't we already discussed your inability to lie well?" he murmured as he gave way to temptation and slipped his arm around her waist to pull her close. Deus, she was the perfect fit for him. His cock sprang to life while an air raid siren blared out a warning in the back of his head. She trembled against him, but didn't try to escape his embrace.

           
"I'm not lying." Her breath warmed his skin as he bent his head toward her.

           
"No? Then I suppose you're going to tell me you've not thought about me kissing you either." His body responded immediately as her tongue flicked out to wet her lips. It pulled a growl from him and she trembled at the sound.

           
"No . . . I mean yes . . . damn it." She frowned up at him. "God, this is what I mean about being confused. You make
all of this
feel normal."

           
"This? You mean my world . . ." He raised one hand to press his fingers against the rapid pulse at the side of her neck.
"Or the fact that we're attracted to one another?"

           
"I'm not attra--"

           
He didn't let her finish the denial and captured her lips beneath his. It wasn't the smartest move he'd ever made, but at the moment, he didn't care. His body was making demands, and he wanted to tame the beast before he locked it up again.

           
Besides, he refused to let her get away with lying to herself. He slipped his tongue past her parted lips and delved into the heat of her mouth. An instant later, her arms slid around his neck.
All without prompting.
Triumph barreled through him. Her actions said something a hell of a lot different than her words had.

           
She responded to him with a heat that threatened to unhinge him. The way her tongue danced with his was a sensuous invitation for much more than a simple kiss. But then this wasn't any ordinary caress either. The heat of it made him long for another part of her that would be equally warm and moist.

           
Merda, there were too many clothes between them. His mouth still heating hers, he shrugged out of his suit coat. He threw it in the direction of the recliner, uncaring of where it landed. The warmth of her penetrated his dress shirt as he slid her sweater off her arms. She didn't protest and the sweater fell to the floor.

           
He breathed in her scent. Warm, soft, and fragrant like vanilla. She smelled good enough to eat. His mouth nipped and nibbled its way along her jaw and then sought the small dimple in the curve of her neck. Her hands caressed his shoulders then continued their exploration down to his waist. With a gentle tug, she pulled his shirt out of his pants so she could touch him.

           
The minute her fingers brushed across his skin, it was as if he'd been shocked. He drew in a sharp hiss of air. If she had this effect on him just touching his waist, how the hell was he going to react the minute she held him in her hand? The sound of a door shutting somewhere in the apartment made her stiffen and she drew back with a gasp.

           
"I . . . we . . . someone might--"

           
"No one is going to come in here," he murmured as he envisioned the office door closing. The soft thud of the door and the lock falling into place signaled their privacy. He brushed his mouth across her ear. "As I was saying, you don't lie very well. I think you're very attracted to me."

           
His hand slid up under her shirt to cup a full breast as he drew back slightly to look at her. Desire sparkled in her hazel eyes, and with an unintelligible sound, she tugged his head downward and kissed him with an eagerness that sent his blood roaring through his veins.

           
The woman was driving him beyond coherent thought, and he wasn't about to resist it.
Because it felt good.
Really good.
Her tongue teased and tantalized the inside of his mouth until she slowly withdrew to trail her lips across his jaw and then downward to the base of his throat. As she undid his tie and shirt, his hands explored the softly rounded curve of her buttocks. Her fingertips were like a branding iron on his skin. Hot.
Fiery.
They singed his skin as she pushed his dress shirt aside to expose his chest. She drew back, her hands lightly tracing the bandage that protected his sutures. Her gaze flew to his face, an expression of regret and sorrow on her face.

           
"I'm sorry you were injured because of me. Does it hurt?"

           
"Not nearly as bad as another part of me is hurting," he rasped.

           
The pink color rising in her cheeks made her look maddeningly adorable, and he groaned with the need to explore every part of her. He was ready to take her here.
Right now.
A low purring sound escaped her as he picked her up and carried her back to the desk. He set her down on the desktop, not even bothering to clear a space.

           
Barely able to think beyond the thought of burying his cock inside her, his hand pressed against the apex of her thighs. The heat radiating through her jeans made him think she would melt the minute he touched her velvety folds. He kissed her again, his body rock hard and aching for release.

           
Devour her. That's what he wanted to do. He wanted to devour every inch of her until she was a part of him, always there, that fresh buttery scent of her filling his nostrils to the exclusion of all else. His hand captured the nape of her neck and he kissed her deep and hard.

           
The scent of her, the taste, the feel,
the
tiny mewls of pleasure. All of it added up to a package of hot heat and sensual delight that he wanted days--weeks--to experience. Suddenly, she shoved away from him in a frantic move. Her fingers pressed against his mouth and her eyes were wide with alarm. Suddenly, the sound he'd been ignoring for more than a minute forced its way into his consciousness. It came again.
An imperious knock on the office door.

           
"Fotte," he muttered. Quickly withdrawing from her, he buttoned his shirt, while Emma adjusted her own clothing. The knock came again.

           
"Ares?
Are you all right?" Phae's voice echoed through the office's solid oak door.

           
"I'm busy. What do you want?" His bellow made Emma flinch, and he reached out to touch her cheek before tucking his shirt back into his pants.

           
"Why on earth do you have the door locked?"

           
He growled with anger. Christus, his sister had some foul timing. Actually, make that perfect timing. He'd been on the brink of losing every bit of his self-control. With a flick of his hand, Emma's sweater left the floor and swept through the air to land in her lap. His suit coat hadn't made it much farther than her sweater. Filled with self-recrimination, he stretched out his hand to summon the garment to him. Two seconds later, he shrugged into it.

           
Emma hopped off the desk and straightened her clothes. Satisfied they both looked presentable, he visualized unlocking and opening the door in his mind then picked up one of the files off his desk. His back to the door, he glanced at Emma. She looked painfully embarrassed. He'd done that to her. Merda, he was a bastard.

           
"It's about time you opened . . ." Phae's voice died off as she entered the room. Schooling his features into an unreadable mask, he turned to face his sister, who was staring at the two of them with misgiving.

           
"Emma and I were talking about her future." He deliberately dropped the file onto his desk in an effort to emphasize his words and give them some credibility. "What did you want?"

           
"I wanted to know if you were going to ride with Magnus and me or go with Lysander."

           
Dressed in the standard black garb Sicari fighters wore when on assignment, Phae looked pale, but composed.
For the moment anyway.
But would she be strong enough to carry out her duties as orator at Julian's Rogalis? It was a hard enough task when you were only good friends with the deceased, let alone when it was someone you cared about deeply.

           
"We'll ride with Lysander."

           
"We?"
His sister frowned, but the moment she met his hard gaze, she responded with a listless nod.

           
The way she looked reminded him of the months following their parents' deaths.
Lost.
It wasn't a side of herself that his sister revealed to many. He took a step toward her and she raised her hand as if knowing he was worried about her.

           
"I'll be fine. I'll see you at the estate."

           
Phae turned away before he could say another word. As his sister left the office, he turned his head to look at Emma. She must have known Phae was hurting because the sympathy etched on her features warmed his heart. His sister was the only family he had left, and he liked Emma all the more for her compassion. The moment Phae was no longer in
sight,
her expression became distant and reserved.

           
"I take it I'm supposed go someplace with you?" she said quietly. He nodded.

           
"Julian's funeral is being held at the Order's estate up near White Cloud, Michigan. It's a long drive so we'll spend the night. The estate is adjacent to the Manistee National Forest, and I thought you might enjoy some fresh air tomorrow morning."

           
A lie.
The fresh air thought had only just occurred to him. The way she bit down on her lip indicated she was torn about his suggestion. Although the complex was relatively inaccessible without the appropriate security clearance, he'd feel a hell of a lot better if he didn't have to leave her behind. Her silence set him on edge, and he took a step toward her. She didn't retreat, but her expression grew wary.

           
"I need you to trust me, Emma." He met her gaze with his steady one. "Trust me to keep you safe."

           
"And does that include trusting you not to charm your way into my bed?"

           
The wry note in her voice emphasized exactly how little he'd done to make her feel she could trust him. He knew better than to act as impulsively as he had with her over the past twenty-four hours. Still, she hadn't exactly been unwilling just now. No less willing than she had been last night.