The Pleasure Slave (22 page)

Mouth agape, she spun. “Where are we?” she asked Tristan again. “And how did we get here?”

“We are in Imperia,” he answered, his own shock dripping from each syllable. A flicker of joy lit his eyes. “I do not know how we arrived here, at this time, but I do not wish to question my good fate.” His face now gleaming with immeasurable delight, he walked around the edges of the walls, his fingertips brushing each surface. “These are
lamori
gems. Watch.” He caressed one of the stones, and the dull silver shimmered to life, glowing with vitality.

Unable to stop herself, she reached out and stroked the stone nearest her. No heat. Only cold and tangible reality. Yet a rosy light began to illuminate the inner sphere of the stone. Then the walls began to move, slowly at first, growing faster and faster, spinning like before, but shooting backward in a constant motion, its end never appearing. Panicked, Julia raced back into Tristan’s arms. He held her close.

“Time,” he said. “Time is reversing.”

How many minutes passed while they stood, unable to do anything but watch, Julia didn’t know. How was any of this happening? When everything calmed, she blinked in surprise. They were standing in the same room—the same room, but different. A large, delectable bed occupied the center, the sides draped by sheer white lace, the top covered with white furs. An elaborate vanity and a plush chaise longue filled a separate sitting area.

She scarcely dared to breathe as she returned her gaze to the bed.

She gasped, for the first time noticing that a woman reclined there, her delicate spill of black hair against the white silk sheets and perfect features giving her a beauty so real, so…alive, even Julia felt the force of it. A bronzed, muscled warrior stood beside her, his eyes glowing with barely suppressed rage. The man was scowling, the woman grinning. She jumped to her feet the moment she spied Tristan, her creamy gown floating around her ankles. She moved her mouth, yet no sound emerged.

“Zirra,” Tristan spat, latching tightly on to Julia’s waist and keeping her snug against him. In the next instant, the world around them began to spin again. More stars. More colors. Round and round they went, and her stomach clenched. When the spinning stopped for this third time, she faced a field of tall, flourishing trees. There were no houses, no cars, no electrical poles.

“We must wait for time to go forward once more,” Tristan said, his breath a ripple against her cheek.

His body trembled slightly, she realized, fighting against her own trembling. Just how close had she come to losing him?

“H
E WAS HERE
,” Zirra cried, her joy all but bursting from her chest. “He was here!”

“That he was,” Romulis offered, his tone a bit too happy for her liking.

“Where did he go?” Swift and sure, she searched her entire room, every nook, corner and hidden hollow. “Is he hiding?”

“Your power was not strong enough to hold him—not without his box in your hands. And so he journeyed back to his new world.”

She screamed with her rage. “I must reclaim his box. I must. Teach me another spell.”

“Think you my father would allow that? He spelled the box as surely as he cast Tristan away. The box cannot return here with magic alone. The cursed thing must be brought by someone’s hand. All I told you I would do is bring him to you. I did not say how long he would stay.”

“Bastard!” A screech of rage broke through her throat, and she whipped around and glared at this man who was supposed to help her. “Bastard.”

“And yet you should have realized.”

“Bastard,” she snarled again.

“What has you more upset, Zirra? The fact that he disappeared? Or the fact that he looked happy with the other woman?”

“He belongs to me. Do you not understand? I am his
master. I control him. If I cannot hold him here with my power, I will find another way. I will possess him again, Romulis. This I swear to you.”

J
ULIA STARED AT HER HOUSE
, which now towered in front of her, then looked up at Tristan, who still stood beside her. Finally the shock of what had happened dwindled away, and she experienced confusion and fear in full force.

“I don’t understand what just happened. We were standing here, then we weren’t, and now we are. How is that possible? How did we travel through time and galaxies and reach Imperia?”

Steel glinted in his eyes, making the violet seem like a whirlpool of deep purple liquid. “Zirra, the one who cursed me, tried to call me back.”

Julia’s mouth went dry. “But your box…I have your box.”

“This I know. My guess is ’twas why we were returned here.”

This isn’t happening,
she thought. She wasn’t ready to lose Tristan. Not now, perhaps not ever, and the fact that she
could
lose him terrified her.

“Let’s go inside,” she said. She didn’t want to stand out in the open, didn’t want to be any more of a target than she needed to be. She wanted him within the walls of her house, the doors locked. But when she tried to move forward, he stopped her with a firm hand on her shoulder.

“Did you not turn out the lights before we left?” he asked, frowning.

“Yes. Now hurry.” Frown deepening, she allowed her fingers to curl around his, and she tugged him toward the door.

He planted his heels firmly in the ground, preventing her from moving another inch. “I believe someone has invaded your home.”

Her eyes widened in disbelief, and she saw that light seeped from beneath the closed curtains of her front window. “Oh, my God.”

“Get behind the bushes,” he demanded, morphing into superhero mode.

His face was an angry mask of determination, his gaze cold and hard.

“What are you going to do?” she asked, her words broken. While Tristan was unbelievably strong, he was not impenetrable to bullet or knife wounds.

He didn’t repeat himself, didn’t reply. Instead, using gentle force, he pushed her behind the bushes. His fists clenched at his sides. “Remain there until I return.”

Tristan unsheathed his daggers, one from the waist of his drocs, the other from the sheath he tied to his boot, and with a stealth born of years on the battlefield, moved into the house. Broken glass and leaves littered the floor. The talking cube was shattered, lying in tiny pieces across the floor. In the center of the room loomed a tall, thick tree, its branches sprouting in every direction.

Zirra, he thought, baring his teeth. ’Twas a part of her spell. He didn’t understand why she’d wanted a tree in Julia’s home, however. But there it was, leaving destruction in its wake.

Fists clenched, he silently and methodically searched every chamber in the house, ascertaining the damage, ducking under limbs. His fist grasped the hilts of his daggers so tightly his knuckles drained of color. So many things had been destroyed in the sorceress’s magical rage.

If she were capable of this, what else could the sorceress do?

Tristan suddenly knew a fear greater than the anger spilling into his veins. Zirra hoped to win him back and hurt Julia in the process. And she had almost succeeded. Seeing her, knowing she wanted him still, caused all of his old resentments to rise to the surface. He’d been so happy at first, to stand inside the Druinn castle, to see his homeland. Yet all of his happiness had faded when he spied Zirra.

In the past, females had attempted to steal his box from his current
guan ren.
Some had succeeded; some had not. Those times of success, he had found himself sucked back inside his prison, awaiting a summons from his new mistress. He’d never minded, for one
guan ren
was the same as any other. With Julia, however…Ah, he would not allow himself to be taken. Not by Zirra. Not by anyone.

His arms trembled as he returned his weapons to their pouches and lifted a broken portrait of a young Julia standing next to an equally young Faith, this photo slightly different from the other he’d viewed. Julia’s bright eyes smiled up at him with such innocence and trust.

“Oh, my God.”

The soft, feminine voice had him whipping around,
shoving branches out of his way. Julia stood in the doorway, her jaw slack, her eyes wide with shock and fear. “You were told to wait outside, woman.”

“I was worried about you.”

The words knifed through him, leaving a trail of guilt in their wake. Women lusted for him, but they certainly never worried for him. And yet, the one woman who
did
care, he had failed. He had been unable to protect her belongings. His hands shook as he set the portrait back onto the leafy floor. How did one man, one warrior, battle against a magic he could not see or touch?

“I am fine, Julia,” he said. “Completely unharmed. Come and see.” Never removing his eyes from her, he opened his arms and simply waited. With a broken moan, she raced to him and threw herself against him. Her fragrance, still so sweet and all her own, was now laced with fear—for him. “All will be well, little dragon.”

Now that she knew he was unharmed, she began to break down.

“My house,” she whispered raggedly. “My things. That tree!”

He continued to cradle her against him. It had been centuries since he had willingly comforted a woman, and it tore him up inside to do so now. He hated to see Julia so upset. He hated to see her tears, and he used his fingertip to gently wipe them away.

“Should I notify my insurance?” A humorless sound escaped her lips, and the sound tinkled like jagged bells grinding together. “What would I say?”

He gently led her to the couch.

“Sit,” he told her, taking her hands in his. Her fingers were ice-cold, too cold. “Rest for a moment.”

“I don’t want to sit,” she said, her voice hoarse. Wide-eyed, she looked around, trying to take in everything at once. Her beautiful paintings were in tatters from the branches. Her lovely emerald-and-sapphire chaise was a broken shell. Trembling, she said, “I know the box is here, but I need to see it, to hold it in my hands.”

He sighed, hating that she would not accept his comfort yet, and released her. “I understand.”

Lips tightly pressed together, she inched to the fallen faux plant that had once stood tall and shaded the bay window. She unscrewed the vacuous bottom. Upon seeing that his box still rested there, she released a relieved, battered breath and blinked up at him. “It’s still here.” She paused. “My computer!” Cheeks becoming even more pale, Julia shoved the box back into the planter, rescrewed the lid and leapt to her feet.

She raced from the living chamber, ducking limbs, and into her office, only to find equal devastation. All of her business files and account books were strewn across the floor, knocked over by the tree’s long arms. Her computer was smashed. Her pretagged inventory damaged beyond repair. Horror wrapped around her.

She blinked back the sting of tears and felt Tristan draw near. He didn’t utter a word. Staying behind her, he anchored his arms around her waist, tracing his palms over her stomach, stopping just under her breasts. His chin rested atop her head, and she felt the ripple of his
breath against her hair. Almost completely broken inside, she welcomed his strength, his warmth. How could something like this have happened?

Numb with shock, she toppled to the cold wood floor.

“Julia,” Tristan said, every nuance of concern in her name. Watching her, he sank beside her and curled himself around her, gathering her into the heat of his body. He stroked her hair, kissed the sensitive edge of her ear, all the while murmuring words of comfort.

“I don’t understand this,” she said, closing her eyes against the destruction.

“Some people let darkness fill their souls,” he answered, locking one arm under her knees and supporting her back with the other. Then he stood, cradling her in the hollow of his embrace. He ducked his way to her bedroom. She didn’t offer a single protest when he laid her down on the mattress and removed her skirt. After gathering the covers from the floor, he tucked the soft material around her trembling frame, placed a soft kiss on her forehead and turned to leave.

“Tristan,” she whispered, stopping him. “Where are you going?” The thick foliage offered a shadowy canopy.

“I wish to clear the mess.”

“Will you stay with me tonight and hold me?”

“Aye, little dragon. Whatever you desire.” The bed dipped as he eased in beside her and gathered her close, so close every hollow and curve of her body fit snuggly against him. His scent mingled with pine and surrounded her, familiar and so desperately needed. She breathed deeply. “I know not what I can say to end your
torment,” he whispered, “but somehow I will help you forget this happened. I swear it.”

With his promise in her ears, she allowed herself to sink into the comforting clasp of darkness.

S
OMEWHERE IN HER
conscious mind, Julia heard a loud crack of thunder. Heard rain beat in rhythmic abandon against the window seal. The sleepy fog clouding her thoughts began to clear. And perhaps it was because of the softness of the mattress, or perhaps because Tristan’s masculine scent enveloped her senses, but whatever the reason, her mind began to catalog all of her secret desires.

1. Make love with Tristan—him on top
   
2. Get a tattoo. Something sexy
   
3. Make love with Tristan—her on top
   
4. Skinny-dip. With Tristan
   
5. Make love with Tristan—him behind her
   

Wait. Him behind her…A warm male body did indeed press against her backside. She snuggled deeper into him, remembering she had asked Tristan to sleep in her bed. But as she lay there, her body began to tingle, to want. Her eyelids slowly cracked open. Sunlight
forced its way into the bedroom, unwanted and unforgiving. Warm breath caressed her neck, and a bronze, muscled arm draped over her hip. She tried to fight the urge to slip his hand lower, until he touched her where she suddenly ached for him, where moisture pooled between her legs.

“At last Beauty awakens from a peaceful slumber,” Tristan said, his sleep-rich voice purring along her spine. “After all that happened, I feared you would be unable to rest.”

The tree…the little jaunt to Imperia…no, she inwardly intoned.
I don’t want to remember.
But the memories flooded her, anyway: the destruction, the fear.
Get up,
her mind screamed.
Do something.
Blinking back the lingering cloud of sleep, she jumped from the bed. There was nothing she could do about the unplanned, otherworldly trip, but by God, she could take care of her house.

Her movements were clipped as she wrapped her sheer blue robe around her body, a tumble of silk from shoulders to ankle. Right now, Tristan’s box
was
safe. She had to believe that. Otherwise, thoughts of his abduction—for that’s what it would be—would haunt and consume her for the rest of the day, and she couldn’t afford to worry. There was too much work to do. She needed to clean every room, cut down the tree and perhaps notify her insurance company, replace broken items.

Seductive as always, Tristan stretched then eased up. His eyes were rimmed with shadows, as if he hadn’t really slept at all. “Where are you going?” he asked, his voice scratchy and laden with a delicious yawn.

Caught up in the trials awaiting her, Julia didn’t spare him another glance. Nor did she notice she didn’t have to duck. There were no tree limbs. “I need to organize and clean. I can’t afford to close the store tomorrow, too, so everything needs to be taken care of today.”

“There is nothing you need do now except climb back into this bed.”

“Look,” she sighed, “I don’t have time for games. Everything I had in this house is ruined, and I need to clear the damage.” She grabbed the first articles of clothing she could find, which turned out to be Tristan’s sweatpants and T-shirt. She dressed in the bathroom. Unbidden, she felt her blood simmer with yearning as she inhaled his lingering scent in the fabric.

Striding through the house, she noticed how murky sunlight flittered through the open curtains. Another round of thunder boomed. Julia halted midstep, drinking in the interior of her house. The floors gleamed with a fresh coat of polish. Every counter and cabinet was dusted and clean. Except for a few missing antiques, an absent TV, and a few holes in the walls, each room looked perfectly normal. A rug covered the remaining tree stump.

Confused, shocked, she thumped down on the kitchen stool. She hadn’t dreamed the destruction, hadn’t imagined it, either. That meant…while she’d slept through the night, Tristan had cleared away the damage. She hadn’t ordered him to do it. He’d simply taken it upon himself.

How…sweet.

She wanted to cry.

No one had ever treated her with such loving kindness, and knowing he cared enough to do this for her caused every cell in her body to swell with longing and tenderness.

He strolled past her, his fingertips brushing the hollow of her back. He wore only a pair of briefs. She shivered. His appeal never ceased to amaze and draw her; the strength of his body, the grace of his strides. The majesty of his gaze. Without a word from her, he began his morning ritual of making her coffee, which had not improved, yet she didn’t have the heart to correct or stop him.

“I tried to tell you that I had already accomplished what you wished to do,” he said, not sparing her a glance.

“No,” she shook her head, “you said I needed to get back in bed.”

He arched a brow. “Is that not the same?”

No, it wasn’t. Once again she surveyed the length of the room. “What you did…you’ve left me speechless, Tristan, and I don’t know what to say.”

“Say that you will never again look so defeated, that you will trust me to take care of you.”

“I do trust you,” she said, and knew she meant every word. “More than I’ve ever trusted another person.”

A smile teased the corners of his lips. “That pleases me.”

“How did you manage this?” She swept her arms in a wide arch. “I never once heard you.”

“My skills as a cleaner have been perfected over the years. Fresia, a woman I once served, forced me to scrub her home from top to bottom whenever I displeased her.”

“How horrible,” Julia muttered, more upset by the mention of another woman dictating his actions than by the work he’d been forced to do.
I’m a mess,
she thought.

“Horrible is an apt description,” he replied. “Your office—”

She gasped. “My office! Please tell me you didn’t clean my office.” If he’d inadvertently thrown away her computer disks or account files…“I don’t want to sound ungrateful, but—”

He cut her off before she could work up a good panic attack. “I left that chamber for you, as I did not know what belonged where.”

“Thank you.” The scent of coffee drifted to her nostrils, as relieving as his words. “For everything,” she added. While he looked savage and untouchable on the outside, Julia saw the tender, kind man he truly was. No wonder she loved—Oh, God!

Love.

She’d entertained the possibility last night, yet it had seemed questionable under the influence of wine. There was no question in the light of day, however. She did. She loved him. The absoluteness of her feelings rang inside her like a carillon of bells, a culmination of joy and sadness, longing and bittersweet pain. She wanted to laugh and sob at the same time.

She loved him.

And she didn’t know what to do about it.

If she told Tristan, he might pity her, or worse, nonchalantly dismiss her love as insignificant. After all, he placed no value on the emotion. And why should he? her mind added succinctly. Confusion. Self-doubt. Longing for the impossible. All three were components of love. Julia uttered a sigh. She’d always imagined the emotion as flowers and candy, smiles and happiness—not to mention marriage and babies.

She had two choices, she realized, closing her eyes. She could suppress her feelings for him and pretend nothing had changed, or she could give him all that she had to offer.

The answer sprang to life before she even finished her thought. Number two, thank you very much. He was everything she’d always wanted, and everything she’d thought she could never have. His smile brightened the worst of her days. She felt as if she’d waited for him her entire life. His generosity touched her heart. He made her tingle and sweat, made her crazy with desire.

Determined, she faced him. While she wouldn’t tell him of her love and scare him away, she wanted to show him how she felt. Simply saying, “Hey, you. I want to get it on,” wasn’t appropriate, though.

So how did she gain his attention? Suddenly, she couldn’t recall a single thing he’d taught her. Should she trace her fingertips over the hard ridges of his abdomen?
Roll his beaded nipples under her palms? Moisture pooled between her legs, hot and demanding. Her hands ached to touch him, had to touch him.

“You know, Julia, I have been thinking,” he said, just as she was reaching out. She dropped her arm to her side. At the counter, he shifted his weight, his forearms resting on either side of her. “Since Puny Peter is no longer a part of your life, we must make a list of requirements for your new man.”

She felt…shock? Anger? Hurt? Yes, all of those things. She wanted to make love with him, and he wanted to help her pick another man to seduce. Maybe she had misunderstood. “You want to help me pick
another
man to seduce?”

“Aye,” he answered without hesitation.

What about last night? What about the wonderful things you said to me, did for me?
Her heart drummed a painful, hollow beat in her chest. She heard each thump, an echo of her stupidity and pain.

“I don’t have time to make a list,” she bit out, not sure how else to respond. “I have to clean my office and see what’s salvageable.” She tried to push to her feet, but he held her in place with a glare.

“Your office can wait until later. As this is to be a lesson, I am in charge. What I say, you do with no arguments, and I say we will stay here and make a list.”

“All right, fine,” she snapped, choking back tears.

“I have taken the liberty of securing ink and paper.”

“Of course you have.” Her words floated across the distance, shrouded with feigned enthusiasm. She
gripped the offered pen and pages and dropped them in front of her. “I’m ready when you are.”

“I have given this much thought,” he said, “and I believe requirement number one should be handsome.”

Since Julia wasn’t in the mood to play along, she muttered, “No. I’m putting ‘not too ugly.’”

Tristan made a sound in the back of his throat that sounded suspiciously like choking. “This is a list of desires, if you will recall.”

“I know. But in today’s society a woman can’t be too picky.”
Especially me.

He frowned, but continued on. “How do you feel about a man who appeals to your senses? Taste. Touch. Smell.”

She shook her head, writing instead, “If he doesn’t stink, I’ll take him.”

Tristan’s expression deepened. “Is it important that your man give you jewels and furs?”

“Money doesn’t matter.” Which was true. She made enough money to support herself.

For some reason, her words made him smile. “Most women melt when a man hears beyond her words to what she truly desires. How feel you about this?”

Julia nibbled on the end of the pen as she pretended to think it over. “I’ll settle for someone who doesn’t fall asleep while I’m talking.”

That wiped the grin off his face. In fact, he gritted his teeth. “What about witty? A man who can make you laugh is like a rare gem.”

“Witty is too high a standard. I’d like a man who has
mastered the craft of laughing when I tell a joke, even when he didn’t hear me in the first place.”

“You need someone who is strong, a man well able to protect you.”

“If he can rearrange my furniture, he’s perfect.”

“Do you want a man who shares your interests?”

“I’ll settle for a man who doesn’t drink straight from the milk carton.”

Tristan began pacing, a dark storm cloud hovering over his shoulders. His hands were locked behind his back, his gait stiff. Uttering a frustrated sigh, he shoved a hand through his hair. Stray locks tumbled across his forehead. “Some men offer thoughtful surprises. Does this please you?”

“Oh, yes. Remembering to put the toilet seat down is a must.”

He growled. “You should demand more for yourself, Julia. You are a beautiful, fascinating woman. Many men find you desirable.”

“Fine. You want honesty? Here it is. I want a man who cares for me. Who will, well, who will make my body ache and my senses reel. Who wants me as much as I want him.”

Frozen in place, Tristan fixed her with a hot stare. “That is truly what you desire?”

“Yeah.” She glared up at him. “You got a problem with that?”

“A problem? Nay. Not when
I
meet your requirements.”

“Wh-what?”

He ticked off his attributes. “I am not too ugly. I do
not smell foul. Have I ever fallen asleep while you were talking?”

“No,” she answered, still shocked from his announcement.

“I am strong enough to move your furniture. I care for you. And I have pleased you with my touch. Many times. I am perfect for you.” He smiled, slowly, seductively, sending a current of desire throughout her entire body. “So now you will entice
me.
”

He still wants me,
was her first thought.

Why am I still sitting here?
was her second.

Joy wrapped around her like a silken cocoon. His hungry gaze washed over her. Her hungry gaze washed over him. They were both mentally stripping away the other’s clothing, piece by unwanted piece, and they both knew the other was doing it.

At last recalling the techniques he had taught her, she batted her lashes at him. “Maybe I’m waiting to see if you do, in fact, meet
all
of my requirements. Can you make me ache?”