He held up his hands. “Please, I am having trouble making sense out of this. What happened to you in the shop?”
“Well, this old guy came out wearing a Red Sox baseball cap, no less; he was the owner. I found this necklace—”
“How?”
“What?”
“How did you find the necklace?”
“Oh. It was under a bunch of boxes in the rear of the store. The guy with the baseball cap asked me if I really wanted to buy—”
“What made you look under the boxes?”
She shrugged. “I don’t really know. I remember having a feeling there might be something good under there—”
“Aha!” Yaniff snapped his fingers.
“What aha?”
“There it is! The Shimalee sang to you.”
“It did no such thing.”
“Who is to say? You see the terrible series of events which happened to you that day as coincidences; I see them as interconnected events. The disruption of the continuity of your life was heralded by the Shimalee coming to you.”
“Are you trying to tell me that all the rotten things that happened to me on that day happened because this Shimalee thing was preparing to make a presence in my life?”
“Just so. It was singing to you, disrupting your life line. Once you had the Shimalee in your possession, it plucked Lorgin out of the space/time continuum, depositing him in your vicinity. Remember, the Shimalee bends dimensions; the corridor of time and space opened between the two of you, bringing you together. You see? It is the Prophecy.”
“What a crock!”
“You think so?” Yaniff asked innocently.
“Believe me, I know I’m not this woman! A man like Lorgin would never—Oh, Yaniff you must believe me!”
“I believe that you believe what you are saying.”
Tears ran down her cheeks. “You have to believe me, Yaniff!”
She was very agitated. Yaniff took her hands in his. “Why is it so important that I believe you, child?”
“Be-because I want you to send me home!”
Yaniff raised his eyebrows. “I see.” He gazed knowingly upon her bent head, watching the tears track down her cheeks. She needed his guidance, that much was obvious.
“Why did you not say so at once?” he admonished her gently. Deana’s head snapped up.
“You’ll help me?”
“Of course.” His crafty eyes observed her. “I will send you now.” He made to rise.
“Wait!”
Yaniff feigned surprise. “What is it? You said you wish to leave.”
“Yes, but…not now.”
“Ah.” The wizard sat down.
“I mean—I have to say good-bye to…to…everyone,” she pleaded with him. “I—you will send me home later, won’t you?”
“Whenever you are ready. But surely you will wish to abandon us soon?”
She fidgeted in her seat. “Well…now that I know I can go back, I suppose there’s no harm in seeing the quest through.”
Yaniff sipped his mir. “And what quest would that be?”
She blinked. “What do you mean?”
“There are many quests surrounding you, Adeeann. There is Lorgin’s quest for the Alliance, Traed’s quest for his lost destiny, Rejar’s quest, not yet begun, but soon, soon…And then, there is your quest.”
“My quest?”
“Yes.”
“I don’t have a quest.”
Yaniff did not respond.
Deana observed the mystic carefully. In the time she had known him, she had never heard Yaniff utter an idle statement. She peered at him sideways. “I do?”
He smiled slightly. “Yes, you do.”
Damn! “So, like, what is it?”
“That, you will have to figure out for yourself. Although I will tell you this: best you figure it out soon, for it is almost at its end.”
Yaniff’s cryptic words followed her as she ran the entire distance back to the strength of Lorgin’s arms.
She found him sprawled on the grass in the middle of the flower garden, wearing nothing but his black leather pants.
He was fast asleep.
His deep, even breaths told her he hadn’t heard the low chimes signaling her return. Deana had never seen him so relaxed.
And why shouldn’t he be? After all, this was his home.
Deana was startled to realize that even though they had been sharing a bed for quite some time, this was the first time she had actually seen him asleep. Always, in the past, he had awakened before she did, alert and controlled.
It was strange to see him looking so vulnerable, lying there in the tazmin flowers, his long golden hair spread out across the carpet of blossoms.
He seemed so at peace. His thick black lashes formed two perfect crescents against his cheekbones; his firm, sensitive mouth was slightly parted. It was an incredibly handsome face.
One richly muscled arm was thrown carelessly above his head, unknowingly displaying his perfectly delineated chest for her inspection. Here was raw strength at rest…He looked golden and powerful, like some great jungle cat napping in the sun after a successful hunt.
The laces near the waistband of his pants had loosened, causing his pants to gape intriguingly, further adding to her impression of sensual vulnerability.
Her gaze moved down.
No vulnerability here, she admitted, noting the bulge between his thighs. Even at rest, this part of him was impressive. Armed and dangerous. Waiting to strike.
He shifted in his sleep, bringing the arm he had tossed over his head back down to his side, his hand falling to curve lightly against his stomach.
He was such a beautiful man.
Not just his form, she realized, but him. His kindness and control. His sense of humor. His intelligence. His genuine concern for those he cared about. His joy in passion. And, yes, she hesitated to admit, even his arrogance.
She would miss him terribly when this was over.
Deana had never met a man who made her feel more alive.
Frankly, she wanted him desperately. Now. Inside of her. All of him.
In the countless times they had made love, Deana had never taken the initiative. She never had the chance.
That was about to change, she decided recklessly.
Now that Yaniff had given her the ability to choose when to return home, somehow their relationship felt different. Lorgin did not hold all the cards anymore, and she was about to point that out to him in her not-so-subtle way. Surprise, Lorgin.
Quietly, so as not to awaken him, she slipped her caftan over her head, draping it on a nearby bench. She shook the ribbons out of her hair, letting the long red tresses fall free around her.
Silently she knelt down beside him, sitting on her haunches among the fragrant flowers. Even though they were not touching, she could feel the warmth from his body next to her.
His clean sandalwood scent caressed her nostrils as she bent over him.
Ever so softly, she pressed her lips against the strong column of his throat, where his vital pulse beat rhythmically.
His eyelids fluttered.
Chapter Eighteen
“Mmm…Adeeann.”
His voice was a lazy rasp of velvet.
Still in the aftergrip of sleep, he wrapped his arm casually around her waist, bringing her down to lie next to him. Holding her securely in his arms, he nuzzled his chin against the top of her head and promptly drifted back to sleep.
Oh, no, Lorgin. I have quite a time in store for you and napping isn’t on the agenda.
Moving up in his arms, she let the tip of her tongue touch the little indentation under his beautifully sculpted lower lip.
He stirred beneath her.
She draped her leg over his thighs, fastening her open mouth against his throat.
His eyes opened a fraction.
Her lips leisurely traveled down to his collarbone, taking tiny sips of his skin.
His hands suddenly splayed powe
rfully against the bareness of her back.
She froze, looking up at him. After all, this was Lorgin. She wasn’t quite sure how he was going to react to her aggression.
He silently regarded her for several moments through slitted eyes, which were starting to incandescently spark beneath his lowered lids. As if he had made a decision of some kind, he firmly lifted her chin with a bent finger, bringing her mouth down to his own.
The kiss was a controlled, guarded exchange. He made no move to deepen it, or intensify it. Deana read his message loud and clear; she could almost hear his bold voice in her mind: If you wish this to go further, zira, you had better see to it.
All right, so he was allowing her free reign.
Admittedly, it took some of the control, okay, a lot of the control away from her. Just a couple of months ago, she would have balked at the very notion of him “allowing” her to take the helm. She recognized the oxymoron, but somehow, with a man like Lorgin, it seemed…appropriate.
He was too strong, too arrogant, too male.
If she was honest with herself, comparing other males of her acquaintance to him was a lesson in futility. They were a different species entirely. She had never met anyone like him, and probably never would again.
One did not take liberties with such a man as Lorgin unless he permitted it first.
The only thing a girl could do under the circumstances was to see how uncontrolled she could make him.
That being the case, she really intended to tingle his navel.
When he released her mouth, their eyes met briefly—his contained and waiting, hers promising and mischievous.
Deana brushed his lips several times with her own—playful, fleeting movements—before trailing her tongue down the slight cleft of his chin. She felt the corners of his mouth lift ever so slightly against her cheeks, rather like a triumphant expression of pleasure he didn’t want her to know about.
Just wait, Mr. ta’al Krue. Just wait.
Her hands clasped his upper arms, kneading the rock-hard biceps, noting for a moment how tiny her hands looked against the broad columns of muscle. She rubbed her face against his sculpted chest, purposely letting her hair slide against the taut skin. He was magnificent, every solid muscle well defined. Golden satin over steel.
She flicked his flat brown nipple with her tongue, smiling as it instantly hardened. Her teeth grazed against the little nubbin, just to let him know she noticed. The steady thumping of his heartbeat increased.
Sliding down the flat plane of his stomach, she ran her mouth teasingly against the indentation delineating his torso in a languorous, meandering pathway. When she reached the waistband of his pants, she hesitated just the right amount of time to let him wonder, before reaching down to start separating the gaping laces. Her scalding, pliable mouth pressed against the tender skin right below his belly button.
Lorgin audibly sucked in his breath.
Ah, she thought, a Lorgin hot button. She caught that vulnerable skin between her teeth, tugging gently. Then she blew on the wet spot, cooling it dry.
Something hard poked the underside of her chin.
She smiled against him, letting her chin roll back and forth over the bulbous crest of the rod peeking out from the top of the undone laces. His fingers suddenly entwined in her hair. For an instant, it seemed as though he had stopped breathing.
Her nimble fingers set about undoing the rest of his laces—slowly. By the time she was finished, his breathing was not gentle and deep as it had been when she had first come upon him in the garden. It was ragged and shallow.
The first touch of her tongue caused him to jerk.
“Adeeann…” The fingers in her hair clenched. His voice was low, sexy, breathless.
“Yes, Lorgin?” She murmured against him, remembering a similar scene by a pool when their roles had been reversed.
She ran her mouth down the length of him, inch by impressive inch. His skin here was like the softest of velvets. It felt like eiderdown against her heated lips. Eiderdown encasing stone. Working her way back up, she licked a tiny drop of liquid which had seeped out of the tip of his erection.
He shivered.
“Adeeann…”
His hands weren’t clenched now, they were pressing her against him.
“That is my name,” she replied in imitation of him. Sliding her hand down inside his gaping pants, she gently cupped him. Then took him full in her mouth.
He moaned aloud.
“Adeeann!”
Her name came from between clenched teeth.
She looked up at him, pausing to let him see himself in her mouth. His eyes were amethyst slits of fire as he regarded her beneath lids heavy with passion. He closed his eyes, groaning as he sought for control.
When the edge of her teeth scraped against him, his hands came under her arms, quickly raising her along the length of him to fasten his mouth onto hers. This kiss was not like the last one he had given her, controlled, even remote. This kiss was fire.
He plundered her mouth fiercely, his tongue invading her with exquisite command, his hands on the back of her head holding her locked to him. She kissed him back with equal ardor, unwilling to relinquish her aggressive role.
He immediately kicked off his pants.
When he started to roll over to place her beneath him, she pressed firmly against his shoulders, letting him know that this time she wanted to do it her way. He acquiesced, sliding beneath her again.
Deana lay on top of him, their bodies touching full length, reveling in the feel of his bare body beneath her. It was rather like harnessing a typhoon, she thought.
His dynamic arms completely encircled her, clasping her waist tightly to him. She covered his face with tiny, nibbling kisses, caught up in the moment, frantic almost.
Lorgin’s tongue circled the perimeter of her ear. “What are you waiting for?” he gasped.
What was she waiting for? Good question.
The problem was she wanted them to try an unusual position she had in mind, but she wasn’t exactly sure how to proceed. She had never done it before. Oh sure, she knew what went where—but how? How could she seduce him with a thrilling new style if she couldn’t get the mechanics right?
She dropped her forehead against his chin.
Now this was utterly embarrassing!
The last thing she wanted to do was fumble around trying to figure out logistics. She gritted her teeth. There was no other choice.
“Will you help me?” she whispered.
“Help you?” he whispered back. “Help you do what?”
He was not making this easy. “You know…” She rolled her eyes meaning-fully.
Lorgin grinned. Two large dimples popped into his cheeks.
“You mean you want to see if I know how to do this?” He rubbed his nose teasingly against hers.
“Lorgin!”
She pushed against his chest, raising the top half of her body. “If you’re going to be difficult—”
He smiled, reaching down to grab her under the knee; he brought her leg up and over to the side, letting the other fall between his thighs. Then he positioned himself, guiding her down on him with his other hand, deeply penetrating her while she was lying on top of him.
“Is this what you had in mind, my Little Fire?” His face still reflected his amusement as he surged into her. She gasped at the new sensation.
It was an incredibly tight fit.
“I can feel you so deep, Lorgin.” She choked, overcome by the intense feeling.
That did it. His amusement fled, replaced by a searing, almost pagan hunger. Impossibly, he expanded even farther inside her, embedding himself deeper in her sheath.
“How deep, Adeeann, how deep?” His voice was raw now, breathy, wild. Hands on her hips, he pulled her down even tighter against the base of his shaft.
“Oh my God!” she whimpered, the angle of her position combined with his deep penetration convincing her she was going to be torn asunder with ravi
shing pleasure.
His hand twisted in her hair, tugging her down forcefully to his mouth. This kiss was totally unrestrained, almost brutal in its intensity. As if the gates had opened, he flooded her with his power, sending wave after wave to her.
This was it—the high point of her adventure. She was going to die of pleasure.
“Move on me, zira.”
His words slowly pierced her passion-drugged brain. Move on him? Was he kidding? He was in so tight, it felt as if they were locked together permanently.
When she hesitated, his capable hands guided her hips forward to him, sliding her a couple of inches up on his shaft, leaving a slick wet surface behind. He waited just a second, then guided her back down, showing her just what to do.
Would wonders never cease? She didn’t think any movement was going to be possible. She experimented on her own with a little wiggling upward movement. By Lorgin’s groan, she knew it worked. She slid down. In no time at all, she picked up a rhythm and went with it, Lorgin “helping” her now and then with a slight arching of his hips. A sizzle of current trailed in his wake.
She quickly discovered the joys of changing the pace, by alternately slowing down and speeding up. At these times, Lorgin clenched his teeth and bit out a few choice words in a foreign tongue. She did not think for one minute that he was telling her to have a nice day.
Soon she got too caught up in the action to be cognizant of what she was doing to him. Because she was doing it to herself as well. Mindless, ceaseless pleasure, building and building. Lorgin began throbbing inside of her; a part of her marveled that he was able to hold back his climax until she was willing to join him, seeing as how the man was, by this time, almost completely out of control.
On her next downward movement, he grabbed her hips forcefully, slamming her down against him in a grinding motion, sending them both over the top.
He poured into her, filling her in a never ending series of ejaculations, both of them yelling out their release.
She collapsed totally prostrate on him. Spent. Drained. Lorgin beneath her seemed half dead.
When his breath returned to a manageable level, he facetiously croaked in her ear, “Is this any way to treat your husband?”