A Siren for the Bear (Sarkozy Brothers Book 1) (9 page)

T
HE
TALK
ABOUT
HIS
INABILITY
to father children marked the end of their interlude, though it wasn't in any way negative. Marek wished he could tell her the truth, tell her about the curse on the Sarkozy line, about a woman's words spoken two hundred years ago in anger and betrayal.

But it was too soon. Or maybe it was too late.

What would she say if she found out the truth about him? Would she accept him or would she run in horror?

He didn't want to contemplate that moment, preferring to hold it off for as long as he was able.

Helping her to her feet, he got back into his clothes while she buttoned up and repositioned hers. Her cheeks were flushed, and he thought she looked thoroughly adorable standing there in her rumpled shirt and her bare feet, her lips red from his kisses.

He threaded his fingers through hers, drawing her from the studio and out into the silent hall. They walked back to her room in silence, careful as the night was beginning to brighten, the sun hinting at its coming.

"You'd better get some sleep," he whispered against her throat, as he nuzzled her one last time at the door.

She looked disappointed, as if she'd expected him to join her, but he wasn't ready for the band to know about him and Carson. Things were a little too dangerous for the Sarkozy men to be in relationships, especially with human women.

He claimed her lips one last time, a heated passionate duel, then left her with a smile on her face.

As he headed back to his room, he wondered what the hell he was doing. Was he really being selfish wanting a little bit of happiness in the midst of all the hell?

T
HE
NEXT
DAY
,
WHEN
C
ARSON
entered the kitchen, heads lifted and she received welcoming smiles. On the other end of the room, Marek merely gave her a cool nod.

And her stomach twisted.

Had last night been a mistake? Was he regretting it?
 

The way he was ignoring her said as much, and she swallowed hard. Suddenly croissants, bagels, cream cheese, and jam all seemed like reasons to throw up.

She nursed a mug of coffee, smiling and talking with the band about innocuous, unimportant things while her mind nursed her pride.

How stupid could I have been?

After a while, she couldn't handle it anymore and excused herself, heading to the ranch slider that led to a large balcony outside. The deck was enormous, furnished with weatherproof rattan outdoor furniture. It extended in an L to a narrow length that was private and couldn't be seen from the kitchen or living room.

She moved blindly, her eyes hot with unshed tears. She couldn't decide if she was ashamed or angry. Either way, the tears threatened to overflow, and she had to swallow hard to suppress it. The last thing she wanted was to head back inside with eyes red from weeping.

The band of men were fun, but they weren't stupid. They'd figure out something was up, so she had to get it together.

She sucked in a deep breath, taking the clear mountain air into her lungs. It didn't take away the lump in her throat and she didn't feel calmer.

Until someone moved behind her and Marek said, "Are you okay?"

She lifted her chin, refusing to be weak in the face of his rejection. If a one night stand was all he'd wanted, then she was fine with that. She was a big girl.

She nodded. "Of course. Why wouldn't I be?" Her voice was clear, giving nothing away of the turmoil in her heart.

He shifted closer, his body pressing against hers from behind. "You looked upset."

She cleared her throat. She was flush against the glass balustrade with nowhere to go to escape the searing heat of his body. "Why in the world would I be upset?"

He lowered his head an inch from her neck. "Those guys are far too nosy for their own good." He placed his lips on her skin, a heated kiss that sent shivers down her spine. "I want us to have some privacy, and the band won't give us that. I want you all to myself for as long as possible."

Carson sighed and leaned back against his muscled chest, allowing his seeking lips greater access. Then her breath caught in her throat as he placed a hand low on her stomach, squeezing the soft flesh near her hipbone, his fingers so close to her heated sex.

Her skin tingled, her muscles tightening with need. She lifted her gaze to his, loving the desire in his eyes. When he lowered his lips to hers the kiss was explosive and incredible, and almost uncontrollable.

His hand traveled further, pressing at the juncture of her thighs. She shifted her hips, anticipation and need firing her blood.

"Hey, guys," Felix yelled from around the corner. "We're about to start."

Carson would have jumped had Marek not put his hand to her shoulder. He shifted a step away. "Until later." His voice was deep, a strange rumble beneath it that made Carson's blood burn.

He headed back and she followed in his wake. When they reentered the room nobody gave them any funny looks.

Except for the blonde.

Carson frowned. At some point she'd need to find out the girl's name. It was weird living in the same house without knowing what to call her.

As the group exited the kitchen, Carson hung back.

The blonde was clearing away the mess, moving most of the remainders to the galley kitchen behind the main area. Carson cleared her throat. "Er... I realized I don't know what to call you." Her smile faltered as the blonde turned her cold gaze to her.

"Sara." She uttered the single word as if it were a sharp, pointed weapon.

Carson forced the smile back on her face. "Nice to meet you, Sara."

She was turning to leave when Sara said, "Don't get any ideas."

Carson stopped and frowned. "I don't know what you mean."

"Yes, you do. You're not good enough for him, so don't get too comfortable."

Carson shook her head. "Not sure what you mean. I'm just here to sing."

Yes, she was unsure of what Sara meant, but she could guess. And deep down she didn't want to clarify. Her jaw clamped shut and she turned to leave the kitchen, refusing to give the cold girl the satisfaction of her curiosity.

Sara let out a cold laugh. "Enjoy it while it lasts. But don't say I didn't warn you. When he settles down, it won't be with the likes of you."

Carson opened her mouth to ask her what she meant, but Sara turned and left the kitchen, her back stiff.

On the way to the studio Carson pondered Sara's behavior. Was she in love with Marek? Maybe that was the reason for her jealousy? Carson nodded, then put the girl and her pettiness out of her mind as she settled into the day's practice.

She found she enjoyed being a part of the band far more than she'd expected. She'd always been a solo artist, and this experience made her realize she was more versatile than she'd known.

And she was pretty sure it had nothing to do with Marek's presence not two feet from her. She was constantly amazed at his talent; his skills with the guitar seemed to fuel the group, and yet she got the feeling that the band itself was a secondary thing to him.

And what about the rest of them?

She was still in the dark as to their real identities, and she wondered why they needed such privacy. Not that she'd pry. It was their business in the end. She was beginning to know them better now.

Rex was the protective big brother type, while Felix was a little on the dangerous side. She'd caught him looking at her, a hungry expression in his eyes. There was a certain feral air about him, as if he was the type to lose control given the chance. She thought it best never to be alone with him.

Pax, on the other hand, was the very epitome of his name. Calm, smiling, always the peacekeeper. He seemed years younger than the rest, likely around her age, though he didn't lack for talent.

Marek was the leader of the pack though, the one they all looked up to. Carson got the feeling that their respect went beyond the mere existence of the band itself, and she wondered if they were related.

Brothers maybe, or cousins?

The day flew by and before they knew it, the session was over. Dinner was a rowdy affair, and when the group invited her to the games room upstairs, giving her a choice of pool, Foosball, or darts, she shook her head as her stomach did a somersault.

She begged fatigue and headed back to her room, soaking in the tub until her skin got all pruney. She almost fell asleep in the heated water and had to drag herself out before she ended up drowning herself.

Overheated now, she drew on a thin nightie and a cardigan, and slipped out of the room. She opened the door at the far end of the hall that led to another small deck. A set of stairs descended to the garden below where the path forked, one in the direction of the front yard, the other leading into the forest.

The darkness should have felt threatening, and yet, Carson felt at home. She pulled the thin cardigan closer, shaking her head at the stupidity of leaving the warmth of the house wearing nothing more than a silky nightie.

She turned to head back inside when the door opened and Marek stepped onto the deck.

H
E
'
D
WATCHED
HER
THROUGH
THE
glass door, the silky nightie leaving little to the imagination as she pulled the light cardigan close to her body. He shook his head, asking himself again what he thought he was doing.

He shouldn't be messing around with her. His choice of partner should have been a more serious, formal one. A mate was not an arbitrary choice. In his family, wives were chosen on the basis of the strength of their genetic lines. And humans were not on the list to begin with.

But he couldn't seem to help himself. She was a Siren, after all.

And the best thing about it was that she was his Siren.

Marek pushed open the door and went to her, and when she lifted her face to his, eager for his kisses, he knew the night would drive him to new heights of ecstasy.

T
HE
DAYS
FLITTED
BY
,
THE
practice sessions filling her waking moments, Marek filling her nights. They took walks in the forest at night, whispering things to each other in the dark. The raw nature of their trysts seemed to fuel their passion for each other.