Stars of Mithra Box Set: Captive Star\Hidden Star\Secret Star (14 page)

He made certain he steered the conversation away from anything that worried her.

“Probably should have used some of those herbs she's got growing out there,” M.J. considered. “But I don't know what's what.”

“It's fine.” He took her hand, pressed a kiss to the palm, and made her blink. “How are you feeling?”

“Better.” She picked up her glass. “Full.”

Nerves? Funny, he thought, she hadn't shown nerves when he handcuffed her, or when he drove like a madman through the streets of Washington with potential killers on their tail.

But nuzzle her hand and she looked edgy as a virgin bride on her wedding night. He wondered just how much more nervous he could make her.

“I like looking at you,” he murmured.

She sipped hastily, set the glass down, picked it up again. “You've been looking at me for two days.”

“Not in candlelight.” He filled her glass again. “It puts fire in your hair. In your eyes. Star fire.” He smiled slowly, held the glass out to her. “What's that line? ‘Fair as a star, when only one is shining in the sky.”'

“Yeah.” She gulped wine, felt it fizz in her throat. “I think that's it.”

“You're the only one, M.J.” He pushed the plates aside so that he could nibble on her fingers. “Your hand's trembling.”

“It is not.” Her heart was, but she tugged her hand free, just in case he was right. She drank again, then narrowed her eyes. “Are you trying to get me drunk, Dakota?”

His smile was slow, confident. “Relaxed. And you were relaxed, M.J. Before I started to seduce you.”

A hot ball of need lodged in the pit of her stomach. “Is that what you call it?”

“You're ripe for seducing.” He turned her hand over, grazed his teeth over the inside of her wrist. “Your head's swimming with wine, your pulse is unsteady. If you were to stand right now, your legs would be weak.”

She didn't have to stand for them to be weak. Even sitting, her knees were shaking. “I don't need to be seduced. You know that.”

“What I know is that I'm going to enjoy it. I want you trembling, and weak, and mine.”

She was afraid she already was, and pulled back, unnerved. “This is silly. If you want to go to bed—”

“We'll get there. Eventually.” He rose, drew her to her feet, then slid his hands in one long, possessive stroke down the sides of her body. Then back up. “You're worried about what I can do to you.”

“You don't worry me.”

“Yes, I do.” He eased her against him, kept his mouth hovering over hers a moment, then lowered it to nip lightly at her jaw. “Just now I worry you a lot.”

Her breath was thick, unsteady. “Cook a man one meal and he gets delusions of grandeur.” And when he chuckled, his breath warm on her cheek, she shivered. “Kiss me, Jack.” Her mouth turned, seeking his. “Just kiss me.”

“You're not afraid of the fire.” He evaded her lips, heard her moan as his mouth skimmed her throat. “But the warmth unnerves you. You can have both.” His lips brushed hers, retreated. “To
night, we'll have both. There won't be any choice.”

The wine was swimming in her head, just as he'd said. In sparkling circles. She was trembling, just as he'd said. In quick, helpless quivers.

And she was weak, just as he'd said.

Even as she strained for the fire, the flash danced out of her reach. There was only the warmth, enervating, sweet, drugging. Her breath caught, then released in a rush when he lifted her.

“Why are you doing this?”

“Because you need it,” he murmured. “And so do I.”

He heated her skin with nibbling kisses as he carried her from the room. Filled his head with the scent that was foreign to both of them and only added to the mystery.

The house was dark, empty, with the silvery shower of moonlight guiding his path up the steps. He laid her on the bed, covered her with his body. And finally, finally, lowered his mouth to hers.

Her limbs went weak as the kiss drained her, sent her floating. She struggled once, tried to find level ground. But he deepened the kiss so slowly, so cleverly, so tenderly, she simply slid into the velvet trap he'd already laid for her.

She murmured his name, heard the echo of it whisper through her head. And surrendered.

He felt the change, that soft and complete yielding. The gift of it was powerfully arousing, sent dark ripples of delight dancing through his blood. Even as his desire quickened, his mouth slipped down to gently explore the pulse that beat so hard and thick in the hollow of her throat.

“Let go,” he said quietly. “Just let go of everything, and let me take you.”

His hands were gentle on her, skimming and tracing those curves and angles. This, he thought, makes her sigh. And that makes her moan. As if their time were endless, he tutored himself in the pleasures of her. The strong curve of her shoulder, the long muscles of her thigh, the surprisingly fragile line of her throat.

He undressed her slowly, pressing his lips to the hands that reached for him until they went limp again.

He left her nothing to hold on to but trust. Gave her nothing to experience but pleasure. Tenderness destroyed her, until her world was whittled down to the slowly rising storm inside her own body.

The fire was there, that flash of lightning and outrageous heat, the whip of wind and roll of
power. But he held it off with clever hands and patient mouth, easing her along the path he'd chosen for them.

He turned her over, and those hands stroked the muscles in her shoulders and turned them to liquid. That mouth traced kisses down her spine and made her quake even as her mind went misty.

She could hear the rustle of the sheets as he moved over her, hear the whisper of his promises, feel the warm glow of promises kept.

And from outside, in the deepening night, came the long haunting call of an owl.

No part of her body was ignored. No aspect of seduction forgotten. She lay helpless beneath him, open to any demand. And when demand finally came, her moan was long, throaty, the response of her body instant and full.

He buried his face between her breasts, fighting back the urge to rush, now that he'd brought her so luxuriously to the peak.

“I want more of you,” he murmured. “I want all of you. I want everything.”

He closed his mouth over her breast until she moved under him again, until her breath was nothing but feverish little pants. When her voice broke on his name, he slipped inside her, filled her slowly.

Teetering on a new brink, she arched toward him. Her eyes locked on his as they linked hands. There was only his face in the moonlight, dark eyes, firm mouth, the rich flow of hair threaded with gold.

Swept by a rushing tide of love, she smiled up at him. “Take more of me.” She felt his fingers tremble in hers. “Take all of me.” Saw the flash that was both triumph and need in his eyes. “Take everything.”

The fire reached out for both of them.

 

While she slept, he held her close against him and worked out the final points of his plan. It had as much chance of working, he'd decided, as it did of blowing up in his face.

Even odds weren't such a bad deal.

He'd have risked much worse for her, much more to prevent those tears from slipping down her cheeks again. He'd waited thirty years to fall, which, he concluded, was why he'd fallen so hard, and so fast.

Unless he wanted to take the more mystical route and believe it was all simply fated—the timing, the stone, M.J. Either way, he'd come to the same place. She was the first and only person he'd
ever loved, and there was nothing he wouldn't do to protect her.

Even if it meant breaking her trust.

If this was the last time he'd lie beside her, he could hardly complain. She'd given him more in two days than he'd had in his entire life.

She loved him, and that answered all the questions.

 

As Jack lay in the deep country dark, contemplating his life, wondering about his future, another sat in a room washed with light. His day had been full, and now he was weary. But his mind wouldn't shut off, and he couldn't afford the fatigue.

He had watched fireworks streak across the sky. He had smiled, conversed, sipped fine wine. But all the while the rage had eaten at him, like a cancer.

Now, he was blessedly alone, in the room that soothed his soul. He feasted his eyes on the Renoir. Such lovely, subtle colors, he mused. Such exquisite brush strokes. And only he would ever look upon its magnificence.

There, the puzzle box of a Chinese emperor. Glossy with lacquer, a red dragon streaking over
it and into a black sky. Priceless, full of secrets. And only he had the key.

Here, a ruby ring that had once graced the royal finger of Louis XIV. He slipped it on his pinkie, turned the stone toward the light and watched it shoot fire. From the king's hand to his, he thought. With a few detours along the way, but it was where it belonged now.

Usually such things brought him a deep, exquisite pleasure.

But not tonight.

Some had been punished, he thought. Some were beyond punishment. Yet it wasn't enough.

His treasure room was filled with the stunning, the unique, the ancient. Yet it wasn't enough.

The Three Stars were the only thing that would satisfy him. He would trade every treasure he owned for them. For with them, he would need nothing else.

The fools believed they understood them. Believed they could control them. And elude him. They were meant for him, of course. Their power was always meant for him.

And the loss of them was like ground glass in his throat.

He rose, ripping the ruby from his finger and flinging it across the room like a child tossing a
broken toy. He would have them back. He was sure of it. But a sacrifice must be made. To the god, he thought with a slow smile. Of course, a sacrifice to the god.

In blood.

He left the room, leaving the lights burning. And most of his sanity behind.

J
ack considered leaving a note. When she woke, she'd be alone. At first, she'd probably assume he'd gone out to find that little store she'd spoken of, to buy some food.

She'd be impatient, a little annoyed. After an hour or so, she might worry that he'd gotten him self lost on the back roads.

But it wouldn't take her long to realize he was gone.

As he walked quietly down the stairs, just as dawn broke, he imagined her first reaction would be anger. She'd storm through the house, cursing
him, threatening him. She'd probably kick something.

He was almost sorry to miss it.

She might even hate him for a while, he thought. But she'd be safe here. That was what mattered most.

He stepped outside, into the quiet mist of morning that shrouded the trees and hazed the sky. A few birds were up with him, stretching their vocal cords. Grace's flowers perfumed the air like a fantasy, and there was dew on the grass. He saw a deer, likely the same doe that had been on the lane the day before, standing at the edge of the woods.

They studied each other a moment, each both interested in and wary of the alien species. Then, dismissing him, she moved with hardly a sound along the verge of the trees, until she was slowly swallowed by them.

He glanced back at the house where he'd left M.J. sleeping. If everything went as he hoped, he'd be back for her by nightfall. It would take some doing, he knew, but he had to believe he'd convince her—eventually—that he'd acted for the best. And if her feelings were hurt, well, hurt feelings weren't terminal.

Again, he considered leaving a note—some
thing short and to the point. But he decided against it. She'd figure it out for herself quickly enough. She was a sharp woman.

His woman, he thought as he slipped behind the wheel of the car. Whatever happened to him in the course of this day, she would be safe.

A soldier prepared for battle, a knight armed for the charge, he steeled himself to leave his lady and ride off into the mist. Such was his mood when he turned the key and the engine responded with a dull click.

His mood deflated like a sail emptied of wind.

Terrific, great, just what he needed. He swung out of the car, resisted slamming the door, and rounded the hood. Muttering oaths, he popped it, stuck his head under.

“Lose something, ace?”

Slowly he withdrew his head from under the hood. She was standing on the porch, legs spread, hands fisted on her hips, venom in her eyes. It had taken only a glance to see that his distributor cap was missing. He didn't even need to look at her to conclude that she'd nailed him.

But he was cool. He'd faced down worse than one angry woman in his checkered career. “Looks that way. You're up early, M.J.”

“So are you, Jack.”

“I was hungry.” He flashed a smile—and kept his distance. “I thought I'd hunt up some breakfast.”

She cocked a brow. “Got your club in the car?”

“My club?”

“That's what Neanderthals do, don't they? Get their club and go off into the woods to bash a bear for meat.”

As she came down the steps toward him, he kept the smile plastered to his face, leaned back on the fender. “I had something a little more civilized in mind. Something like bacon and eggs.”

“Oh? And where are you going to find bacon and eggs around here at dawn?”

She had him there. “Ah…I thought I could, you know, find a farmer and—” The breath whooshed out of his lungs as her fist plunged into his belly.

“Don't you lie to me. Do I look stupid?”

He coughed, got his breath back and managed to straighten. “No. Listen—”

“Did you think I couldn't tell what was going on last night? The way you made love to me? Did you think you'd soften me up so I wouldn't know that was a big goodbye scene? You bastard!” She
swung again, but this time he ducked, so she missed his jaw by inches.

Now his own temper began to climb. He'd never treated a woman with such care as he'd treated her with in the night, and now she was tossing it back in his face. “What did you do, sneak down here in the middle of the night and sabotage my ride?”

He saw the answer to that in the thin, satisfied smile that spread on her face. “Oh, that's nice. Real nice. Trusting.”

“How dare you talk about trust! You were going to leave me here.”

“Yeah, that's right. Now where's the distributor cap?” He took her by the arms, firmly, before she could take another shot at him. “Where is it?”

“Where do you think you're going? What sort of idiotic plan have you mapped out in that tiny, feeble brain of yours?”

“I'm going to take care of business,” he said grimly. “I'll come back for you when I'm done.”

“Come back for me? What am I, a pet?” She jerked, but didn't manage to free herself until she'd hammered her heel onto his instep. “You're going back to the city, aren't you? You're going looking for trouble.”

His fury was such that he wondered only briefly how many bones in his foot she might have broken. “I know what I'm doing. It's what I do. And what you're going to do is give me the cap, then you're going to wait.”

“The hell I am. We started this together, and we finish it together.”

“No.” He swung her around until her back was pressed into the car. “I'm not taking any chances with you.”

“Since when are you in charge? I take my own chances. Get your hands off me.”

“No.” He leaned in, cuffing her hands with his. “For once in your life, you're going to do what you're told. You're going to stay here. I can move faster without you, and I'll be damned if I'm going to be distracted worrying about you.”

“Nobody's asking you to worry about me. Just what are you planning to do?”

“I've wasted enough time letting them chase me. It's time to flush them out, on my turf, my terms.”

“You're going after those two maniacs in the van?” Her heart lodged in her throat and was ruthlessly swallowed. “Fine. Good idea. I'm going with you.”

“You're staying here. They haven't found this
place, and it doesn't look like they're going to. You'll be safe.” He lifted her to her toes, shook her. “M.J., I can't risk you. You're everything that matters to me. I love you.”

“And I'm supposed to sit here, like some helpless female, and risk you?”

“Exactly.”

“You arrogant jerk. What am I supposed to do if you get yourself killed? In case you've forgotten, this is my problem, my deal. You're the one who's along for the ride, and you're not going anywhere without me.”

“You'll be in my way.”

“That's bull. I've held my own through this thing. I'm going, Jack, and unless you want to ride your thumb back to D.C., that's the deal.”

He jerked away, snarling. Then whirled to pace. He considered cuffing her inside the house. It would be an ugly struggle—he could almost have looked forward to that aspect of it—and he'd win. But if things went wrong, he couldn't know how long it would be before someone found her.

No, he couldn't leave her alone and handcuffed in some isolated house in the boondocks.

He could lie. Agree to her terms, then ditch her. She wouldn't be easy to shake, but it was an option. Or he could try a different tack altogether.

He turned, smiled winningly. “Okay, sugar, I'll come clean. I've had enough.”

“Have you?”

“It was fun. It was educational. But it's getting tedious. Even the fifty thousand you promised me just isn't worth risking my neck for. So I figured I'd cruise up north for a few weeks, wait for things to blow over.” He gave a careless shrug as she stared at him. “Things were getting a little heavy between you and me. That's not my style. So I figured I'd take off, avoid the obligatory scene. If I were you, I'd call the cops, turn over the stone, and chalk it all up to one of your more interesting holiday weekends.”

“You're dumping me,” she said, in a small voice that made him feel like sludge.

“Let's say I'm just moving on. A guy's got to look out for number one.”

“All the things you said to me…”

“Hey, sugar, we're both free agents. We both know the score. Tell you what. I'll drop you off at the nearest town, give you a few bucks for transpo.”

In answer, she staggered toward the porch, every step a slice through his heart. When she collapsed, buried her face in her hands, he wished himself in hell.

She'll be safe, he reminded himself. All that mattered was that she'd be—

Laughing her guts out. He gaped as she threw back her head and roared with laughter. Her arms were clutched around her stomach, not in defense against heartbreak, but to keep herself from shaking apart with mirth.

“Oh, you idiot,” she managed. “Did you really think I was going to fall for that?” She could hardly get the words out between great gusts of laughter. The darker his expression, the wilder her glee. “Now, I guess, I'm supposed to tearfully hand over the distributor cap and let you leave me off somewhere to nurse my shattered heart.” She wiped her streaming eyes. “You're so in love with me, Dakota, you can't think straight.”

He was thinking straight enough, he deter mined. He wondered how she'd like it if he closed his hands over that throat of hers and gave it a nice, loving squeeze.

“I could get over it,” he muttered.

“No, you couldn't. It's hit you right between the eyes, and I know the feeling. We're stuck with each other, Jack. There's no getting past it for either of us.” She breathed deep, rubbed a hand over her aching ribs. “I ought to kick your butt
for trying this, but it was too stupid. And too sweet.”

He jammed his hands in his pockets. It was the “sweet” that made him feel most foolish. Out-maneuvering her hadn't worked, he considered. Temper and threats hadn't made a dent, and lies had only amused her.

So he would try the truth, he decided. Simple, unvarnished. And he would plead with it.

“Okay, you got me.” He walked over, sat be side her, took her hand. “I've never told anyone I loved them before,” he began. “I never loved anyone. Not a woman, not family, not a friend.”

“Jack.” Swamped with emotion, she brushed the hair from his brow. “You just never had a chance to.”

“Doesn't matter.” He said it fiercely, his fingers tightening on hers. “I meant what I said last night. There's only you, M.J.”

He pressed the back of her hand to his lips, held it there a moment. “You wouldn't understand that, not really. You've had other people in your life, important people.”

“Yes.” Touched, she leaned over, kissed his cheek. “There are people I love. Maybe there's not only you, Jack. But there is you. And what I feel for you is different than anything I've felt before, for anyone.”

He stared down at their hands a moment. They fit so well, didn't they? he noticed. Just slid together, as if they'd been waiting for the match. “I've done things my own way for a long time,” he continued. “I've avoided complications that I wasn't interested in. It's been easy to evade attachments. Until you.”

He looked into her eyes as he touched a hand to her cheek. “You cried yesterday, over those other people you love. It cut me off at the knees. And when I was holding you, and you were crying, I knew I'd do anything for you. Let me do this.”

“You planned to leave me here because I cried?”

“Because when you did I finally realized just what your friends mean to you, and how much you'd been holding it in. I need to help you. And them.”

She looked away from him for a moment. It wouldn't do either of them any good if she wept again. And his words, and the quiet and deep emotion that flowed behind them, had touched her in a new part of her heart. “I already love you,
Jack.” She let out a long sigh. “Now, I'm close to adoring you.”

“Then you'll stay.”

“No.” She cupped his face as irritation raced over it. “But I'm not mad at you anymore.”

“Great.” He pushed off the steps to pace again. “Haven't you heard anything I've said? I can't risk you. I couldn't handle it if anything happened to you.”

“But I'm supposed to handle it if something happens to you? It doesn't work that way, Jack.” She rose and faced him. “Not for me. What you feel for me, I feel for you. We're in this together. Equal ground.” She held up a hand before he could speak. “And you're not going to say something lame about you being a man and me being a woman.”

Actually, it had been very close to coming out of his mouth. “A lot of good it would do me.”

“Then it's settled.” She angled her head. “And let me add something here, just in case you've got a bright idea about ditching me along the way. If you try it, I'll go to the nearest phone and call the cops. I'll tell them you kidnapped me, molested me. I'll give them your description, a description of what you call a car, and your tag number. You'll be trying to explain yourself to Sheriff
Bubba and his team before you get twenty miles.”

His eyes kindled. “You would, wouldn't you?”

“Damn straight. And I'll make it good, so good they'll probably mess up your pretty face before they toss you in a cell. Now, do we know where we stand?”

“Yeah.” He pushed impotently against the corner she'd boxed him into. “We know where we stand. You cover your angles, sugar.”

“You can count on that.” She walked toward him, laid her hands on his tensed shoulders. “And you can count on me, Jack. I'm sticking with you.” Expecting no response, she touched her lips to his. And got none. “I won't walk out on you,” she murmured, and saw the flicker of understanding in his eyes. “And I won't let you down.” She brushed her lips over his again. “I won't go away and leave you.”