Jewel of Atlantis (8 page)

He nodded, one slow decline of his chin.

“Fire kills you. My demons are impervious to it. And your vampires can do things we cannot. Darius will never be able to fight both our armies at the same time.”

Utter silence reigned for several long moments. How many times would he do this to her?

Her fists clenched.

“Very well,” he said smoothly, as if he hadn’t kept her waiting again. He gave another nod. “I will help you.”

“You will not regret this decision.” That was the truth, for a dead man could not regret anything. Once Layel no longer proved useful… She grinned, happier than she’d been in years. “From this day forward, let it be known vampires and demons are allies.”

His lips pursed in disgust, but he didn’t deny her words. “My spies saw the human male and a female slave headed for Javar’s palace.”

She crossed her arms over her chest. “The former dragon king is dead. His palace is empty. Why go there?”

“If there is a portal at Darius’s palace, doesn’t it stand to reason that there is one at Javar’s, as well? The human will want to travel through it. You can kill him and we can take the first and easiest portal, then worry about the other.”

Her eyes widened. “You are right. We will kill the human, steal back my slave, and I will take possession of one of the portals. Perfect.” And so much easier than she ever could have imagined.

“Don’t you mean
we
will take possession?” he asked, one brow arched.

“Yes, of course,” she lied glibly. “We.”

“I will gather the rest of my army and return within the hour.” Offering no other explanation, he disappeared, moving so quickly it was as if he’d never been there.

Marina finally allowed her smile of victory to emerge. Life suddenly seemed so sweet.

L
IGHT POURED
from the crystal skyline, so bright Gray had to squint to prevent his eyes from watering. Even the trees looked white—wait. They
were
white.

His head pounded, and several minutes passed before he was able to orient himself completely. He lay on a soft bed of foliage. Jewel knelt beside him. The long length of her silky black hair tumbled down her shoulders, caressing his skin and drifting a magical sea-storm fragrance in its wake. She wore an expression of intense concentration as she gently massaged a grainy paste into his arm wound.

The injury burned as if she’d poured molten lava inside it.

“What kind of poultice is that?” he asked between gritted teeth. His voice cracked with each word, his throat raw.

Startled, she gasped. Her hands stilled, and she blinked over at him. “You’re awake.”

“Seems like it, doesn’t it?” Reaching up with his good arm, he rubbed his temples, his neck. The ache slowly receded.

Her gaze bore into his, deep and penetrating, the
otherworldly blue of her irises mesmerizing. “How do you feel?”

“Like shit.”

“I’ve done my best to make you more comfortable.”

Maybe he should have lied, he thought, studying her crestfallen features. Told her he felt like spring roses, or some other romantic crap women liked to hear. He’d hurt her feelings, and the knowledge didn’t sit well inside him. Plus, he had pride—more than most and more than he should—and he didn’t want the woman he planned to bed to think of him as a pansy-assed weakling who couldn’t take a little pain.

Gray frowned. Wait. He was not going to bed this woman. Think about it, sure, but that’s as far as he could allow it to go. Much as he imagined every touch, scent and sound, every breathy sigh that would purr from her lips as he dragged his tongue over her nipples, between her legs—he cut off that line of thought, hoping to slow the amount of blood pumping into his dick—starting a sexual relationship with a non-earth girl wasn’t smart. One, he wouldn’t risk pregnancy—did human and Atlantean DNA even mix? And two, he simply didn’t do flings.

What’s more, a man involved sexually with a woman tended to relax his guard and lose his edge, thinking of nothing but getting the woman naked again. Gray snorted. He hadn’t slept with Jewel, but he thought of her naked constantly. Hell, he’d already lost his guard with her. He’d passed out in front of her, for God’s sake. The reminder mortified him, but how much more relaxed could a man get?

“You’re doing great. My feeling like shit is a good thing,” he said grudgingly.

“True,” she replied after a moment’s contemplation. Her expression brightened, and she offered him a soft, sweet smile. “A man who feels like shit is a man who’s alive.”

He pressed his lips together to smother a laugh. Hearing Jewel cuss, no matter that the dirty words sprang from such a luscious, made-for-sin mouth, was like hearing his potty-mouthed dad sing a chorus of hallelujah. It just didn’t fit with their respective personalities. But damn if he didn’t get a thrill every time Jewel talked dirty.

She returned her attention to his arm, once again massaging the grainy, feels-like-fire substance into his wound. “Do you remember anything that happened last night?”

“You mean my passing out like a little girl?” His adrenaline rush must have crashed hard-core. “Yeah, I remember.”

“What about after?”

He searched his mind and shook his head. “No.”

Tendrils of different emotions curled over her expression: relief, disappointment, resignation. “While you were out, you muttered in Klingon. Something about a Khesterex thath—a screwed up situation.”

His cheeks reddened. He felt the burn of it, and that made him all the more embarrassed. “How do you know about Kling—” He frowned. “Never mind. I don’t want to know.” Passing out in front of a woman was bad enough. Passing out in front of Jewel and mut
tering in Klingon was an ego killer. He’d tried his damnedest to make her see him as strong, capable. Invincible.

Too late now.

“Help me up,” he said darkly.

“You need to remain—”

“Help me up or I’ll do it myself.”

With a growl, Jewel slid her arm under his neck and applied pressure, helping him rise. The higher his head, the more lightheaded he felt.

“Want to lay back down?” she asked smugly.

“Hell, no.” He raised his knees, planted his elbows there, and dropped his face in his waiting hands. “Just give me a minute. Damn injuries.” His stomach rolled in protest, and didn’t stop rolling. “Yes, damn it. Back down I go.”

She eased him onto the ground, remaining at his side. He liked her there more than he should have, liked the feel of her against him. Liked the way her scent encompassed him.

She was beginning to get under his skin.

“You could be a lot worse, you know, and if you don’t lie still, you will be.”

“Wounds aren’t to be recovered from, they’re to be conquered. I’m not worried. I’ve beaten worse.” Trying not to wince, Gray motioned to his arm with a tilt of his chin. “The poultice. What is it?”

“Sand,” she answered, as if it was the most natural thing in the world to rub a potentially bacteria-infested clump of mud into an injury.

He jerked his arm away from her, his eyes wide with
horror. “Sand? Did you say sand? As in, off the ground, stepped on, spit on, God knows what else has been done on it, sand?”

Confused, she nodded. “Are you hard of hearing, as well as stubborn and foolish? Yes, sand. Now give me back your arm.”

“No. Putting dirt in a wound can cause an infection and an infection can cause a limb to rot off. And what do you mean, I’m stubborn and foolish?”

“The sand possesses many healing qualities your body needs.” Her shoulders squared, and she pulled her gaze away from him, concentrating on the wound. “Stubborn because you refuse to listen to reason, instead doing whatever you think is right. Foolish for the same reason.” As she spoke, she wound a strip of white cloth around the injury.

He didn’t protest further. Instead he watched the way she nibbled on her bottom lip as she worked. Images probed at the back of his mind. Dark images, dangerous images. Erotically seductive images. Last night he’d dreamed of battling a demon and a vampire, but what he remembered most was dreaming of Jewel. Kissing her. His lips had moved against hers, savoring the softness. His tongue had dueled with hers, devouring the sweetness. All the while, the soft mounds of her naked breasts had pushed into his chest, her pink, pearled nipples creating a delicious friction.

The pleasure he’d received from that one dream-kiss had astounded him. He still remembered the taste of moonlight and stars. And magic. Yes, she’d tasted of magic and possibilities.

In his dream, he’d known her thoughts. Known she craved him like she craved air to breathe. Known she loved him—loved him more than her own life.

Known, too, that she carried a secret she feared would destroy them both.

What had that secret been? He couldn’t remember, and fought to bring the answer to the surface of his thoughts. No luck.

Right now, Jewel’s gaze was downcast, her long, thick lashes shielding the otherworldly blue of her eyes he found so fascinating. Perhaps that was best. He didn’t have the strength to keep from drowning in them right now. He wondered, though, what thoughts swam through her mind. He couldn’t read her as he’d been able to in his dream.

“Time to bandage your neck,” she said, cutting into his thoughts. “Hopefully that wound will be better healed.” Her sensuous voice swept over him, and he felt himself growing hard. Always hard.

He wasn’t a teenager, damn it. He should have better control over his body. Who was master? Him or his dick?

Me,
his dick said confidently.
As if there was ever any question.

Oh, shut up.

Jewel slapped her hands together, back and forth, causing sand crystals to fly in every direction. “Turn, please.”

He shifted to his side to give her easier access, and a sharp pain tore from his neck to his toes. “Damn it,” he growled. “A stupid bite shouldn’t have caused this kind of damage.”

“You’re right. A bite like that should have caused much
worse
damage. Be thankful you’re alive.”

“I’m thankful,” he grumbled.

Gingerly her fingers probed at his throbbing neck. She had to lean closer to him, and her female scent again filled his nostrils. More of her hair glided over his bare chest—when had she removed his shirt, or had he done it?—and the lush fullness of her breasts pushed against his chest.

Just like his dream.

If he’d had the energy, he would have jerked her to him and learned if she
tasted
like his dream. Like heaven and hell, sin and deliverance. His mouth watered for her tongue; his body tensed for the weight of her.

Not smart to fraternize with the locals, James. Remember?

He felt, actually felt, her nipples harden against him, going from soft to utterly lickable in seconds.

Being smart was overrated.

One kiss didn’t a sexual relationship make, he rationalized. Would she even be receptive to him? He studied her expression. Her rosy lips were parted; her breath emerged a little shallow. Twin circles of pink colored her cheeks. She might not know it, she might deny it, but she wanted him. She wanted him bad. All the signs were there.

He almost,
almost
decided it didn’t matter that he had no energy. He wanted to kiss her. Only the thought that he’d do a poor job of it in his weakened condition and have her think he didn’t know how to pleasure a woman correctly kept him still.

“What do you think?” he asked. “How does it look?”

“Better than I’d hoped.” She nodded with satisfaction. “You’ll heal with barely a scar.”

“Maybe you need to lean in and take a closer look.”

Her gaze flicked to his in confusion. When she saw the heat in his eyes, the color in her cheeks deepened prettily. “I’m going to start charging you for your sexual invitations.”

“Excellent plan. I’ll pay you in kisses.”

She chuckled, a throaty purr better suited for bed than banter. “It will only be considered payment if I accept.”

“You’ll accept,” he said, his tone laced with utter confidence. “I have no doubts. I have a feeling you’ll even thank me.”

She rolled her eyes. Using another strip of cloth, she began rubbing sand into his neck. He tried not to cringe at the thought of bacteria and microbes. All right, he also tried not to shout at the burning pain. “You’re one hundred percent positive there are healing qualities in that disgusting stuff, right?”

“Yes. Well.” She added hesitantly, “Ninety percent positive, at least.”

“What!” He grabbed her wrist, surprised momentarily by the delicacy of her bones, and stilled her hand. “That ten percent of uncertainty could mean you’re shooting disease straight into my bloodstream. My neck could rot off, for all you know.”

A booming laugh escaped her. “I was teasing. Only teasing. You need not fear the sand.”

“You are a cruel, cruel woman.” His grip loosened by small degrees, more from wonder at her laugh than
relief at her words. Unlike when she chuckled, her all-out laugh had been raw and new, as if she rarely gave way to such unabashed amusement. She’d uttered the same sound while they’d been in the water, swimming to shore. It had affected him then, and it affected him now, warming his every cell.

“I’m the one who cracks jokes in this relationship. You just stick to caring for my every need.”

“May I return to my work now?” she asked with a grin.

“No.”

“Baby.” Her fingers probed at the edges of the wound. As she worked, her nail accidentally scraped a particularly sensitive spot on his scabbed ear, and a sharp pain rebounded through him. He gave no outward reaction, however. He didn’t want her to pull away. God knew he’d let her slap, punch and pinch him if it meant her hands would be on him.

Wait. If he didn’t want her to know she’d hurt him, he had to stop thinking about it. She would read his mind—if she hadn’t already.

He studied her more closely, and his brow furrowed. As he continued to watch her, she gave no indication that she knew what he was thinking. Gave no indication she knew she’d scratched him.

Interesting.

In fact, she’d given no indication she’d heard
any
of his thoughts since he’d woken up, and he’d had some pretty heated ones.

I want to strip you naked,
he projected, still watching her.

No reaction. Her fingers remained steady.

I want to crawl over your body, lick every inch of you, and savor your taste.

Still no reaction.

I’ll start with your lips, then work my way down, and I won’t stop until you’re writhing in pleasure and screaming for God to deliver you from my tongue.

Again, nothing.

Interesting, he thought again. Very interesting. Could she no longer read his mind? During their escape from the demon palace, she’d mentioned that there were times she was unable to get inside his head. What prevented her from doing so? Less and less, he liked the idea of this woman knowing his every thought.

“What are you thinking about?” she asked. “Your body has gone stiff.”

“Can’t you read my mind?” His gaze probed her.

She paused. She drew back and stared down at him. “You sound upset by the very idea. I can’t help what I am, Gray. You were thankful for my ability only a few days ago.”

On a sigh of regret, he anchored one of his hands behind his head and closed his eyes. “I know.”

“If it makes you feel any better,” she said grudgingly, “I’m having trouble getting into your head. It’s like your mind built up an immunity to me when—” She stopped abruptly.

“When?” he prompted, then his eyelids popped open as her words confirmed his suspicions. “You can’t read my mind anymore? Not at all?”

“No.” She sounded both annoyed and shocked. “And believe me, I’ve tried.”

He decided to test her one more time.
I won’t rest until I’ve had you in every position possible. And when I’m done with you, your naked, sweaty body will be so sated you’ll never again be able to think of sex without picturing my face.