Hunting Medusa: The Medusa Trilogy, Book 1 (12 page)

“Please.”

He felt heat on his own cheeks, imagining the scenario. “Andrea…”

“Come here.” She patted the bed beside her.

As if she’d put a spell on him, he obeyed her order, and he sat down beside her. “I shouldn’t.” But Goddess, he wanted to. “You should rest. I’d only disturb you.”

“Get undressed.” The quiet command in her voice made his pulse throb faster. There simply wasn’t enough fight in him to resist her or his own need.

He fumbled with the button on his cargo pants, then shoved them down, his erection springing up toward his belly. Already, the head was slick. This wouldn’t take long. He toed off his boots and kicked off the pants, then slowly stretched out beside her on top of the blankets.

Her warm fingers slid along his thigh, making the muscles there tighten even more. “Wrap your fingers around it.”

Unable to resist, he obeyed , groaning aloud. Tighter. He stroked up to the head, then back down, hard.

His breath snagged in his chest.

“Does it feel good?”

“Yes.” He repeated the stroke, then again.

“Would it feel better with my hand?”

He didn’t reply, his brain already filled with the image.

When her warm fingers settled over his, his hips jerked into the next stroke.

“Goddess,” he ground out.

Andrea let him guide the strokes, and he set a punishing pace, hard and fast, occasionally twisting on the up-stroke. His balls tightened, drew higher.

“Oh,” she whispered, her grip growing firmer when he squeezed harder. “Let go.”

“Say my name,” he demanded, tugging their joined hands back down to the base of his cock.

“Let go, Kallan.”

At her words, he squeezed firmly on one last up-stroke, and his orgasm rushed through him. He couldn’t stop the groan that erupted from his middle.

She didn’t let go of him, her thumb sliding over his fingers, then higher, to his super-sensitive head, now drenched with his release, the pad of her thumb slowly dragging over his skin.

His hips jerked one last time before he released his cock. He captured her fingers and lifted them to drag his mouth along her soft skin, before letting their joined hands drop onto his chest.

“Wow,” she breathed again, turning her face into his shoulder. “Thank you.”

He huffed a laugh, still trying to catch his breath.
She
was thanking
him
. He should be kissing her feet.

When he finally felt like he could speak without sounding as if he’d run three miles nonstop, he heard her soft, even breathing.

She was asleep.

He grinned at the ceiling. Nothing was going as he’d planned.

But he didn’t think he was very sorry right now about the changes to his plans.

Andi stretched, wincing at the slight cramping low in her belly, then went still. The Harvester was beside her—sleeping, from the sound of his breathing.

He’d taken very good care of her.

She felt the blush climb her cheeks. And then she’d helped him take care of himself.

The experience had been very erotic, as—with her sight gone—her other senses had been heightened. The feel of his silky skin over his straining erection. The tension in his fingers under hers. The enticing scent of him—spicy, salty, all male.

She swallowed. He was still her would-be murderer. She was just as sick as she’d accused him of being.

“How are you feeling?” His voice was rusty with sleep, and his fingers on her arm were warm.

She wondered suddenly if he was still naked atop the blankets. Heat began to bubble in her belly, competing with the cramps. “I’m okay. Need to make a pit stop and get a drink. And I’m hungry.”

He sat up and his fingers disappeared from her arm before they grazed her cheek. “Let’s take care of that.”

“Why?” She needed to know. She also needed to remind herself of just why he was here.

He didn’t answer right away, and she heard the rustling of his cargo pants, then the quiet zip. “I don’t know.” His tone was tight, frustrated.

Andi was pretty sure he was telling her the truth. “Okay,” she whispered, sitting up and throwing back the blankets.

He was waiting when her feet hit the floor to guide her into the next room, where he left her alone.

When she flipped up the sleep mask, she realized her vibrator was still on the sink, though it was clean. After she’d fallen asleep, he’d come back into the bathroom to clean her vibe. Tears stung her eyes, and she turned away from the mirror. By the time she was ready to leave, she thought she’d steeled herself against any more unexpected kindnesses.

Downstairs, she curled into a corner of the sofa with the heating pad. Behind her, in the kitchen, Kallan rooted through the fridge for something for them to eat. She tried to
 
only concentrate on breathing through the wrenching cramps low in her belly.

“How do you feel about soup?” He was no longer in the kitchen, but directly behind her.

She sucked in a quick breath. “Soup is fine.”

If she concentrated on listening, she could just hear his bare feet on the wood floor as he went back into the other room. The man was too quiet. Sneaky.

Yeah, sneaky.

She needed to focus on that, instead of him doing nice things for her.

The microwave controls beeped several times, then the ventilation fan started running.

Feeding her. Probably just so she didn’t starve to death while he figured out a way to take the amulet.

She ignored the small voice in the back of her head scolding her for that uncharitable thought.

The bell dinged on the microwave, and then a few seconds later, his weight depressed the cushion beside her. “It’s hot,” he said softly. “Open.”

Instead of arguing, she obeyed him, letting him spoon the hot liquid into her mouth. She tried to think of something else, anything else aside from this very intimate act.

Like how much work it was going to be to break and then dispose of the stone statue he would become if she decided to take off the sleeping mask right now. The Harvester was a big guy. It would take quite a lot of effort to break that much stone into manageable pieces to get rid of.

Might be easier to kill him another way.

If she were really a murderer, she would have made sure to stab him fatally the first night. Evidently, she didn’t have it in her, at least not where this man was concerned. And she couldn’t kill him while he was taking care of her.

His fingers brushed the corner of her mouth.

She shivered.

Where was she? Oh, yes, another way to kill the Harvester. Her mind was blank.

“One more.” His warm breath slid over her cheek.

Andi sighed silently with relief when he took the spoon away, then she heard him go back into the kitchen.

“How are you feeling now?” he called.

“Okay.” She adjusted the heating pad a little, realizing her cramps were ebbing a bit. She smiled. Thank the Gods.

“Do you feel up to a little walk?”

“How little?” Her smile disappeared.

“From the bottom of your drive back to the house?”

That was quite a walk. And how were they going to get
to
the bottom of the driveway?

“The rental company is coming to pick up the truck.” He was nearer again. “I told them I’d leave it at the bottom of the driveway for them. And you might like the fresh air.”

Okay, so not really something for her enjoyment. That helped her to feel a little less kindly toward him. “I suppose I can make it.”

“Good. I didn’t want to handcuff you to the bed.”

Definitely less kindly toward him. Her mouth pinched.

He sat down beside her, and she realized he was putting his boots on. And she was barefoot. “I got your sneakers.” Perhaps he did have a little bit of mind-reading ability as well.

She didn’t thank him, just let him put them on her, her mind spinning. Outside. She was going outside, unhandcuffed. She knew these woods. She could find a spot, several spots, to hide from him until she could get safely away.

His fingers circled her wrist to pull her up from the sofa.

Her belly cramped again, making her lean forward a little.

Gods, not now.

He wrapped one arm around her. “Andrea?”

She inhaled slowly but it didn’t help. The knotting in her gut only tightened. Athena was a bitch. Still.

Kallan eased her back onto the sofa. “You don’t look so good, meli,” he murmured, sliding one hand along her cheek and jaw.

She bent forward until her head touched her knees. “Bitch,” she whispered. Hot pain lanced her belly.

“What?”

She shook her head, swallowing back a moan of pain at the ferocity of the renewed cramps. “What does that mean?
‘Meli’?
” she asked after a second. “You keep saying that.” She didn’t want this now.
Not now.

He picked her up, carefully, and strode up the stairs with her. “It means ‘honey’.”

Her escape was getting further away, and there was nothing she could do about it. Not right now. But it was better to think about that than the casual endearment he’d been using.

Breathing shallowly, she let him settle her back into the bed, then took the aspirin he gave her along with the hot water bottle he must have unearthed while she was taking the medicine.

“I’m sorry,
meli
,” he whispered, kissing her temple and stroking her head lightly.

“Not your fault.” She gritted her teeth against the next wave of cramping and curled into a tight ball.

He clambered over her, then began to massage her lower back.

She startled at his first touch.

“Easy.”

Andi shut her eyes tight and tried to breathe evenly.

His strong fingers were gentle as he rubbed her taut muscles, moving in slow, wide circles that eventually did relax her a little bit.

Rather than dwell on that, however, she thought of the heat from the rubber hot water bottle seeping into her skin. On breathing out the pain.

If she were honest with herself, she thought drowsily, it was mostly the massage that finally let her fall asleep.

Bastard. He shouldn’t be so nice to her.

Kallan paced the living room when he got back into the house. Trekking up the driveway had taken the better part of half an hour, and that was with him rushing the entire way.

And she’d been deeply asleep when he raced into her room, just as he’d left her.

He didn’t like this.

He hadn’t really thought she’d be gone when he got back. She was clearly not feeling well enough to run off if she couldn’t even stand up straight.

The part he didn’t like was how much he was worried for her.

He stopped walking and stood in the center of the room, breathing roughly.

Sweet Goddess, he was falling for the Medusa.

His heart thudded against his ribs, still too fast from his jog up the mountain, faster still with the shock of his realization. He couldn’t fall in love with the woman he’d set out to kill. Still
had
to kill.

He swallowed, his mouth dry, then went to the kitchen for a glass of water. It didn’t slow his racing pulse, or his whirl of jumbled thoughts.

He set the glass on the counter and went back upstairs, his pace measured. Slow. Careful. The way he usually did things.

He stood in her doorway. She still lay curled into a ball beneath the blankets, though some of the pallor had left her cheeks. He wondered if the hot water bottle had lost its heat yet. Frowned. He shouldn’t care.

His gaze slid over her face again, over features half-hidden behind the sleep mask. Then to her chopped, spiky dark hair. She’d cut her hair to keep it from turning to snakes. Did it every month. What did something like that cost her? And how did she manage this every month when she was on her own? The disabling cramps that had her moaning softly in her sleep.

He had a sudden idea that her whispered curse earlier hadn’t been for him, but for the cause of her current distress.
Athena
. And he wondered if he could disagree, seeing her this way.

Andrea stirred a little, rolling to her other side and dislodging the blankets so her back was uncovered.

He went to her, pulling the covers back in place as he also pulled out the now-cool water bottle. After she was bundled back into her cocoon, he stood there, staring down at her.

He was definitely falling in love with the Medusa. With
Andrea
.

What would that cost
him
?

Chapter Five

Aristotle Tassos waited while the phone rang in his ear, tapping the fingers of his free hand on his desk as he stared out of his office window at the darkness. Sun had set many hours ago, but he was still wide awake. A curse of old age. And of his own busy brain.