Chapter Eighteen
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Julia paced the guesthouse, furious.
Hours had passed. Day had faded, and the twins would not let her out. Alaric had put the fear in them. How dare he imprison her here like a dog that had slipped its leash. The message could not be clearer. She was a prisoner, and she must never forget it.
At least there was wine. Julia poured herself another cup of the robust red, just as voices rose outside and then the shadows shifted. She turned to see Alaric, framed by the sunset, lifting the door flap with one superbly muscled arm.
“Where have you been?” she demanded.
By way of reply, he crossed the room and pulled her into his arms, silencing her disapproval with his mouth.
He crushed her to him, his kiss hot and demanding, and suddenly she’d forgotten her anger entirely. “I’m sorry,” he murmured against her throat. “I’d have come earlier if I could—” But she no longer cared. She was on fire, melting in his arms, defenseless as he lifted her onto the table. Her legs came up of their own accord, locking around his hips.
He pressed her onto her back, his mouth burning a ferocious line to her collarbone. Her hands curled into his hair. “Don’t—Stop.” But she was shaking with need, and from the wicked laugh in her ear, she knew what he had heard: don’t stop . She felt like a candlewick, lit aflame. He brought his mouth back up to her lips, kissing her long and deep, and Julia forgot everything else. This was Alaric , fire and war and savagery racing through her blood like fever. It had been so goddamn long.
He’d come to her warm from another woman’s bed.
The thought was cold water on her desire. Dimly she realized he had her up on the table now, her legs thrown wildly around his waist, her skirt hiked up her thighs, her whole body arching up to him as if making an offering of herself.
So much for being the one he couldn’t have.
“ Stop. We have—” Her body throbbed and ached and hurt . “We have to talk.”
It surprised her to no end when he backed off.
Julia slid off the table, turning her back to him as she adjusted her clothes, then busied herself pouring a cup of wine. Her hands shook. At her back, an intense, ferocious quiet. She gulped the wine—and when she turned he was leaning casually against the central pole that held up the roof, chiseled arms crossed over his magnificently bare chest. When had he lost his shirt?
“Well?” He raised a brow. “Talk.”
Julia drew a breath. For a moment she could not remember words.
“If you won’t, then I will.” Blue eyes glittered in the light from the banked coals. “I will not send you back to your brother. Stay with me, Julia.”
Julia covered her shock by taking another drawn-out sip of her wine. What was she to make of this? Was he offering Rome in exchange? Had he come from Brisca’s bed to say that?
Be the one he can’t have.
“You have nerve,” she said lightly. “You assume a great deal. Just because I lay with you once doesn’t mean I will again.”
His eyes dropped significantly to her shaking hands. “Is that so.”
Julia tensed. She wished he wouldn’t drop his voice to a throaty purr like that. It was entirely unfair, when all he had to do was look at her to make her absolutely stupid with the desire to touch him. The gods help her when he grinned or crossed his arms over his chest or took his shirt off.
“Are you prepared to pay my price, King of the Goths?” Julia arched a brow. “You gave Brisca a kingdom for her time in your bed. I want an empire.”
Alaric’s laugh rolled through her, warm and luxurious. Julia’s hands clenched around her cup. Would she win this negotiation by throwing it at him? Cleopatra would never.
“Julia, not three weeks ago you were a vagabond who begged me to take you. You have nothing to offer—no kingdom, no allies, no land. And you think you have the standing to demand an empire of me. For something I can have from any willing woman.” His grin flashed on his tanned face. “You’re the one with nerve.”
Rage stopped her breath. “Laugh at me all you wish. But if you want a place in my bed, an empire is my price.”
“So transactional, Julia.” He said it softly. Hairs rose on her arms. “No.”
No. Why did it hurt so much? What did Brisca have that she did not? “I suppose you don’t wish to share my bed after all.”
“That is not what I said.” He was coming toward her now. A dangerous stillness about him even when in motion. He stopped before her, planting his hands on either side of her on the table, boxing her in. “Correct me if I’m wrong,” he said quietly. “But it’s been my impression that you want this as much as I do.”
A hot, insistent throb began between her thighs.
Julia felt herself lean forward, almost meeting him. Close enough to kiss. Their breaths mingled, heated the air. She had the distinct feeling he was waiting for her to cross the final distance between them.
To admit he was right.
In her mind, she slid her hands up the corded strength of his arms, then greedily over his chest, feeling the hard ridges of muscle on his stomach and the lines of his scars beneath her palms. In her mind, she ran her tongue along the seam of his lips, just a finger’s length from her, pressed her mouth to the strong column of his throat. Licked the scent of him off his skin. Oh gods , she wanted to.
The thought of him holding himself still like that—that fierce, disciplined stillness while she touched and licked him everywhere—made her weak with desire.
Of course she could never admit to the debilitating power he held over her. That would be a terrible mistake.
“I don’t want you.” What a lie. She wanted to rub herself against him like a cat in heat. “I want to rule Rome in my brother’s stead.”
More lies. She was lying through her teeth to a man who looked at her as if he could see down to the bottom of every lie she’d ever told.
“If that is how you want it. I will not come to you again. In fact, I’m willing to predict it is you who’ll come to me.” A mocking grin lifted his lips. “I’ll take you then, but only when you beg.”
“I’ll never do that. In fact, I rather think it’s you who’ll beg before this week is out.”
His laugh sounded against her throat. The sweet, warm vibration of it made her toes curl. “We’ll see who breaks first, then.”
And then—to her vast annoyance—he was gone.