Elijah (6 page)

Elijah blinked, trying to take in everything he was seeing through a hazy wall of pain. He was aware that he was trapping one of the females, that he could break her neck in a breath if he wanted to, but there was something not quite right about what he was seeing and feeling and he needed a precious moment to figure it out. He looked down into wide, golden eyes, feeling a familiarity in them that was disturbing. There was also something about the thick piece of jewelry beneath his hand. It prevented him from having a perfect grasp on her slender neck, but somehow he knew that was not the most important thing about it.

The next thing he was aware of was that he was completely nude and that she was not much better off in a short, damp skirt that was gathered up around her bared hips. This made her decided lack of fear impress itself on him. Not that he would take advantage of such a situation even if had she been his worst enemy, but how would she know that he meant her no harm?

Considering the fact that he was the one in the dominant, aggressive position, her bravery seemed either very impressive or very foolish.

He looked away from her, his eyes darting around the room, more pieces to a puzzle that still seemed to have too many gaps. He could smell food, was aware of his hunger and unusual weakness. He noticed he was bandaged and healing, and not lying dead on the forest floor. It seemed an inane thought, but it was an important ingredient in his ability to understand what was going on.

His hand loosened slightly as he looked back to the female beneath his body. There was hair everywhere, hers, tangled between them both. She had an intriguing body, quite strong for a female and impressively fit. She was also full of soft, abundant curves just where a male would appreciate such things most. He could feel all of this more than he could see it, just as he felt her appealing warmth, the satin smoothness of the skin brushing his thighs and calves, and the rapid rise and fall of the breasts crushed beneath the weight of his body as she drew for breath.

Page 18

He became aware of her scent, this aspect also somehow familiar, even though it was layered beneath the aroma of food. It was attractive enough to distract him from his pain, the fight-or-flight reaction he had woken up with twisting with intriguing ease into the powerful stirring of male interest. Powered by adrenaline, he was far deeper into the reactions of his instincts than the civilization of his intelligence. Demons were as much the heirs of their animal sides as the Lycanthropes were, though they never manifested into the forms of that side of their nature. It was this instinctive side, which they embraced in conjunction with their moral side, that made them the impressive hunters and warriors that they were.

When the warrior took a long breath in through his nose, Siena became aware of the fact that he was taking in her scent. She was not concerned at first, because it would have been her first reaction had she woken in a strange place. But something changed the color of his eyes from a troubled jade to a very vivid emerald, and she found herself completely fascinated by the transformation. A powerful sort of speculation rippled through them just before he lowered his head to her ear and drew another slow breath. His lips faintly brushed her jaw, his soft hair falling against her forehead.

That was when she became aware of the change in his scent, a sharp spike of the rich musk that was always present on him. She felt her stomach tighten with instinctive anticipation, even as her mind rebelled against the feeling, understanding that she was in a fair amount of danger and that all of this behavior was primitive and unjustifiable. For her. For him, waking into a world of confusion, it was not. She was the one with her senses about her, she lectured herself sternly, her fingernails digging into the wrist that still pinned her head to the pillow.

The warrior touched his nose to her temple and inhaled deeply once more. His lips touched her; she felt them part just enough to imprint a wisp of moisture, like the barest of kisses, against her cheek. Siena felt a wash of chills flowing down the front of her body in inexplicable and wild response. Her breasts grew taut beneath the heavy velvet fabric of her dress, the pointed crests of her nipples rubbing his chest in an inadvertent flirtation of response.

Elijah made a low, appreciative sound in his throat before raising his head from her again, his jeweled eyes bright but smoldering as they drifted down to her breasts. The vocalization called to Siena, very deeply, sending a rapid rush of heat and awareness bursting across her skin. She felt her mind turning away from logic and reason as the primitive reply to that call bubbled up from her own throat.

Her answering song had a dynamic effect on him, and she could feel the evidence of it solidifying between their bodies. Her golden eyes grew wide as she felt that male weight and hardening heat against her inner thigh. Just like that, an instantaneous metamorphosis, and for some reason just the understanding that she was responsible for it melted her body from the inside out. She inhaled a quick, full breath of emotion. She was suddenly overwhelmed by this feeling, this rush of adrenalized sexual response that she had always tried to tell herself she was not in the least curious about. And she hadn’t been…until this very moment.

It was raw and base, like the driving hunger that followed a long hibernation. She felt sensations darting around inside her, hot and intrigued, crying out a call that she couldn’t hope to understand. She was poorly prepared and felt it keenly. Siena was a creature of instinct, but she was also one of complete bodily control. Until that moment, she would have sworn there was no part of her that was a stranger to her. That was the only way it could be for any being that altered the shape and nature of who it was with the will of its mind alone. Yet, there was no control in and of that moment, and her entire being was now very much a stranger. She was first flushed, and then chilled. She was terrified, but craving. She was seeping liquid heat, and locking up in solid awareness. The contradictions battered her from the inside out and she felt wildly, deliciously out of control of it all.

The warrior felt the female’s heart pounding madly beneath him, the sensation causing a curl to one side of his lips as he looked down at her. She was aroused, he could smell it, feel it, and hear it. He was aware of how he was reacting to this delicacy entwined with his body. He was fully
Page 19

aroused against her; her hot skin, so soft and smooth like a thick satin, cradled him. He felt a tremor shimmer through her and he was pressed with the urge to rub himself up against her supple body. It made no impression on him that he was still weak and wounded. His mind was little more than an endorphin-pushed rush at that point. He was blind to everything but the sensations and the desires of his instinctive thoughts.

Elijah was no stranger to women—he enjoyed them immensely, in fact—but this was something quite remarkable. Never had he reacted so strongly, so quickly, to a female before. Except, perhaps, one other time. But he had refused to acknowledge it then for what it was, excusing it as part of the heat of battle. It had been the attraction of creatures who, though they were completely differing species, were joined by the common thread of one warrior appreciating the dynamic skills and flush of battle upon another. Other than that, the very idea of it had been utterly appalling because the woman in question had been—

That was when recognition finally set in.

Elijah’s eyes went pale, just as the rest of him did, as he finally realized exactly who it was he held pinned beneath his body. Who it was he was feeling this outrageous craving for. And who it was that was responding with an inconceivable reciprocation of heat and interest.

“Siena,” he hissed, his hand finally leaving her throat to reveal the gold and moonstone collar she wore.

Elijah rolled off her and out of the bed in such a swift movement that he ended up staggering as he gained his feet. As he moved, he jerked a sheet off the bed to wrap around his body. He was not doing so out of shyness, but he would be damned if he would stand naked, aroused, and vulnerable in front of any Lycanthrope woman.

Especially the Queen.

The warrior ran a violent hand through his hair as everything settled at last into the proper place in his awareness. He watched warily as the Queen slid into a sitting position, smoothing her short skirt down to a somewhat more proper placement. She then, quite casually, looked up at him with those eerie gold eyes that always made him feel like she was dissecting him. No doubt because her people had done plenty of Demon dissecting over the centuries as they had relentlessly pressed a genocidal war upon his society.

“What in hell is going on here?” he demanded, unable to help himself as he reached out to steady himself against the bedpost.

She didn’t immediately answer, instead getting to her feet in one supple motion as his eyes followed her every movement. She moved very carefully as she reached to take fresh sheets from a stack sitting on a nearby chest. Amazingly, she turned her back on him and, of all things, began to make the bed. It was a harmless, domestic thing, and, to say the least, it was an incongruous act for a woman who was not only royalty, but one of the most ruthless fighters Elijah had ever had the pleasure of seeing in battle.

She had finally set the bed to rights, tossing the sheets that had been covered in strange debris, including what he assumed was his own blood, into a corner. It was after that when she finally turned to face him. She folded her arms beneath her breasts, as if she were a stern parent about to give him a decisive lecture on manners and behavior.

“I will explain once you return to bed,” she offered generously.

“I’ll do no such damned thing!” Elijah barked, his eyes flashing with a bottle-green fire quite indicative of his anger. “Answer me, woman. Queen or no, I’m not above—”

Elijah cut himself off as he was struck by a wave of nausea frighteningly resistant to his efforts at mental and physical repression. She was by his side before he knew she was moving, inserting herself under his arm to give him support.

“I swear, warrior, if you make me carry you one more inch I will be quite annoyed,” she warned, using her considerable leg strength to propel him toward the bed.

Elijah had no choice but to follow her lead. She guided him down with surprising gentleness and an impressive show of physical power. He was quite aware that he was no lightweight, and, in
Page 20

spite of the fact that she was a good five inches shorter than he was, she managed just fine. She had him lying in the bed, covered and pillowed comfortably in a heartbeat. He immediately began to feel better. Well enough to flush at the realization of having shown his weakness to her.

“Don’t worry,” she said with a smirk he could have done without, “I won’t tell.”

That, of course, upset him even more. Damn her, she was baiting him on purpose. He responded with coarse anger instead of the gratitude that he would have given to anyone else who had assisted him in such a manner.

“Just answer my question,” he snapped.

“Well, if you must know, I am in the process of saving your life.” She said this matter-of-factly as she bent to retrieve a bowl from the floor.

She disappeared into the next room before he could respond to that particularly inconceivable idea, but returned moments later with a clean bowl. She reached into the fire and the scent of food thickened in the air. He sat up, unwilling to lie there like some sort of invalid, using a pillow behind his shoulder to help prop himself up while softening the press of his wounded shoulder against the stone wall at his back.

Siena carried the bowl over to him and, placing a careful knee on the bed, she settled beside him, facing him and extending the offering of food to him. He looked her over suspiciously for a moment and then reached to take the presented food. She held on to it even after his hands encircled it, as if she were afraid he might spill it.

“It wouldn’t be the first time,” she noted dryly when he gave her a scathing look.

The remark put together a series of disconnected clues floating around in his head with a click.

Quickly he realized he had scalded the skin on one of his arms, exactly the kind of burn that would result from hot soup being spilled over it. What was even more disturbing was he finally understood she had been holding exactly such a bowl when he had suddenly grabbed her.

Immediately he scanned her for burns, and for the first time he noticed both of her thighs were scalded a bright red. This, he realized, was why her dress was wet. He had caused her to burn not only him, but herself. An answer, he was understanding, undeserved of someone who he was realizing was intent on nursing him.

Elijah took the bowl from her and set it aside. He took hold of her arm before she could move away, holding her tightly when she would have pulled back. His free hand brushed aside a couple of inches of her dress’s material, exposing rapidly forming blisters. She tried to push his hand away, to retreat, but he would not let her. He was aware that he was holding her with his injured arm and she might have made a clean escape if she would only apply a little force, but she was clearly unwilling to do any more damage than he had already done to himself these past few minutes.

Suddenly, Elijah felt like an enormous jerk. Nothing was so shameful as the clarity of a moment like that, and it reflected in his eyes quite clearly.

“Never mind,” she insisted, trying to push his hand away once more.

“Siena…”

“Don’t,” she commanded sharply. “Don’t get all remorseful, warrior. I am aware you did not mean it. You need nourishment. If you wish to make me feel better you will brave my culinary skills and take some soup. I need to cool the burns and bathe. The mineral pool in the next room will help them heal quickly. We both of us heal rapidly, as you know, so this is a waste of your energy.”

“It is a terrible way to thank you for saving my life. I remember now what was happening. That scream…that was you.”

“I thought it would be counterproductive to my hard work offering peaceful overtures to your King if you were found suddenly dead in one of my territories. Believe me, my motivations were highly selfish. As you probably expected.”