Chapter Three #2
“Your brothers depend on you a great deal? Or is it you who depends on them?” Before he could work up a reaction to the affront, she said, “My brothers do not depend on me at all, but one thinks I should depend on him. But the only one I truly depend on is my father. I am in his care until such time as I take a mate. Then I will be in my mate’s care.
That is the way of things with my people. ”
“You keep saying ‘my people’ but never tell me who your people are.”
“You have not told me who your people are. Where do you come from?”
“Nowhere. Everywhere. I used to say I was from Barost. It was the city where … where my wife lived.”
“With your children?”
“Yes.”
“What happened to her?”
“She died. Look, I do not wish to talk about her.”
“All right. Where are your children?”
“They are dead too,” he snapped at her, “and an equally taboo topic!”
“I see.” Her mouth drifted into a sad little frown and her exotic eyes went soft with pain. “I did not mean to make you angry. I only wished to know everything about you. I find you so fascinating. I find you different.”
“I am no different from any other man,” he said.
“Other men do not burn like a star.”
Well, she had him there. “Is that all that fascinates you about me?” he asked. “I am not some freak show meant for your entertainment.”
“Believe me,” she assured him in the face of his biting tone, “I find nothing about you to be any more freakish than you might think I am.”
“You do not burn every night.”
“No. But we all have our trials, and we are all different and strange in our own ways. And that’s what is so beautiful about most living creatures, don’t you think? If everyone were the same, it would be quite boring.”
“Who are you?” he asked intensely, reaching to take her head between his hands and boring a stare into her eyes.
“I—I am Jileana. I am daughter to the warrior Creasus. I care for my people’s young when they must hunt or farm.
I have a brother who is a warrior just like my father.
They defend our home from our enemies and I am very proud of them for that.
My mother is a great woman with compassion in her soul and a firm hand.
“I love the feel of the warm sun on my body as I lay beneath it, and the coolness of the ocean waters as I swim through them. It is a simple life, the life I lead, but it is a good one.”
Jaykun had to admit it sounded like a good one.
Some days he thought he might trade his soul for the joys of a simple life …
but it only took an instant for him to quell such a notion.
There was too much at stake in the life he had to lead, too many people whose fates were dependent on him staying the course.
“I don’t have time for this,” he muttered, releasing her and looking for his clothes. “My brothers will be looking for me, and there are … there are more important things than having a discussion with a strange girl in a cave.”
He found his clothing and felt her eyes on him as he dressed.
He stole a glance at her and found her gaze to be unabashedly curious, much like she was trying to absorb every movement he made, every inch of his body.
The understanding made an unexpected frisson of arousal bleed through his sharp, intense movements.
He tried to fight it back, but it was hard to do when his gaze was attracted to the long supple lines of her limbs and the lush curves of her body.
She was young and nubile and everything any man would find arousing.
Even a man barely healed from his trials of the night.
Angry with his unruly responses and determined not to follow up the feelings with any regrettable behavior, he didn’t even bother with his shirt and, bare chested, moved to push past her.
“Can I come with you?” she asked, again with that open curiosity. It was as though she found everything to be new and adventurous. An odd thing considering the land they were in at present was war torn.
Again, unwillingly, his gaze was attracted to her dark, silky flesh.
“Not like that you can’t,” he said sharply. “A naked girl in a camp full of soldiers? Even I couldn’t stop them if … if …” The thoughts that followed were so unpalatable they made Jaykun’s stomach churn.
“But if I had clothing?” she said, moving closer to him again. He wished she would stop doing that. Every time she came close, his body tightened up, as though expecting something exciting to happen. It was completely at odds with a mind that wanted nothing to do with her.
“Then you could do whatever you wanted to. I’m not likely to stop you.”
“Very well,” she said, her words soft and whispery as she reached out for his hand.
He could have jerked away from her, put distance between them, but he was suddenly paralyzed, curious and hungry for whatever she was going to do next.
Her slender fingers touched the back of his hand, stroked over it, running up over the knuckles of his fingers until his grip went unexpectedly lax.
Then she was taking his tunic out of his hand.
He was still, simply staring at her as she drew the tunic over her head, letting the size of it swallow her up before it hung in place to below her knees. Even though she was tall and strong looking, she was still quite a bit smaller than he was, especially in the shoulders.
Seeing her in his clothing had a profoundly strange effect on him.
It was somehow the most intimate thing he had experienced since he had been released from his personal hell of being chained to a star.
Oh, he could have had sex with any one of the women close at hand; the encampment was lousy with females looking to take coin from the soldiers in exchange for it.
But he’d had no desire for that kind of intimacy, wanted no sense of making himself vulnerable to another while that person made herself vulnerable to him.
Of sharing something with someone. He’d been vulnerable to women in the past and knew now that nothing good could come of it.
The idea of it made him angry and defensive.
He reached out for her suddenly, grabbing her by both arms and shaking her roughly.
“What do you want from me?” he demanded, shaking her again.
The action made her hair slide over her cheek, and she gently brushed it back behind her delicate ear without shrugging off his hold.
It communicated how unruffled she was by his rough handling of her and he could not help but feel overwhelming consternation.
“I want to know you better,” she said softly as she looked up into his eyes. “I find you fascinating. Don’t you think you are fascinating? Am I not fascinating to you as well?” she asked, those openly curious eyes drifting over his face and chest.
Oh, he felt something about her all right, but he wasn’t certain “fascination” was the word for it. Maybe vexation. Consternation.
Excitement.
At this distance he could smell her, the aroma of seawater and something sweeter … sultrier … lifting off her. She was warm and compelling, soft and sensual, beckoning and beautiful.
“Beyond fascination,” he admitted, his voice rough with his overwhelming desire for her.
It was so unexpected, so incongruous to the state of his life, that he couldn’t hope to control his next actions.
He jerked her in close against his body, feeling her weight press against his chest, deepening that strange sense of intimacy between them.
Then he crushed his lips against hers, fueling the kiss with his confusion and frustrated need.
At least she had the wherewithal to be surprised …
for a moment. Then she became bright and eager against him, her hands lifting to frame his face, ostensibly to hold him to his task.
The open invitation was far more than he could bear, certainly nothing to encourage him to break off and put a stop to his madness.
No. Instead he found her mouth full of warmth and willingness.
It was a potent idea, that she was being driven to this just as he was.
It made him feel a little better for it, a little less like he was being managed by a practiced, seductive hand.
That wasn’t to say there was nothing seductive about her.
In fact, she was everything compelling and sexually stimulating he could have imagined.
He pulled her in, devouring her with hungry lips, opening his mouth over hers and driving his tongue between her lush lips.
At first he tasted salt, but that was to be expected since they were still standing in the sea.
But the impression was faint and fleeting because the next instant he was tasting her.
A sweet and deep flavor. An alluring and compelling taste.
She was like honey against a bitter tongue, soothing and dissolving and sweet.
Then there was the feel of her nubile body against his, her whole being radiating how eager she was to be alongside him.
His hands left her arms and spread across her back, pulling her in tight, his body soaking in the heat of hers and the way it made him feel.
And as he kissed her wildly, for a moment, for just a moment, he forgot about who he was, forgot about the curse that hung over his head, forgot about his responsibilities to his brothers and his goddess.
Forgot about Casiria and all the baggage that came with his memories of his wife.
And that, above all else, was the most wondrous thing about Jileana.