Otherworld Challenger (9 page)

Vashti's breath caught in her throat and she swallowed hard. “You said it was just a kiss. The kind of thing mortals think nothing of.”

His smile gleamed, full of darkness and promise. “That's not what I meant. When I stepped out of the shower, I took a look in the mirror.” He lifted her hand to his face and Vashti's eyes widened in amazement as her fingertips connected with the smooth flesh of his right cheekbone. “My scar is gone.”

* * *

There were too many questions raging around in Vashti's mind for her to contemplate how to start unraveling them. One minute, they had been caught up in controversy, the focal point of which was Jethro's past life, then, without warning, it had shifted and become about Vashti herself. She was still struggling to understand how the change in focus had happened.

Jethro had asked only one simple question. “Do you know how you did it?” In response, she had given a helplessly noncommittal shrug. He seemed to understand she was incapable of further discussion about the matter.

Now, alone in the pleasantly cozy guest room, she lay back on her bed and tried to make sense of a day that had contained very few rational moments. Her mind insisted on replaying only those events involving Jethro.
I have managed to progress through my life so far without exhibiting any of the traditional traits of the fae. Now, in the few short days I have been in close proximity to Jethro de Loix, I have discovered a hitherto unsuspected side to my personality.
Intuition, the power of healing, the glamour...all the legendary characteristics of the members of the Seelie Court seemed to be emerging from within her, prompting a question that could not be ignored. Was Jethro the catalyst for this change?

If she had never met him, would she ever have become aware she possessed these qualities that had once been so revered by her race? Somehow she doubted it. Setting aside the kiss—even though her mind showed an alarming tendency to return to it every few minutes—he had the ability to light her up from within with just a look or a touch.
He does something to me no one else can. And whatever it is appears to have awakened a fundamental talent within me. Something that must always have been there, lying dormant. Something that was always meant to be.

Although her restless thoughts found no answers, they did come up with another question, one that would not be banished, no matter how hard she tried to drive it from her mind.
Why does he have this effect on me?
Was the answer all too obvious?
Let this not be about how much I want him. Because surely that will go away once I get this mad longing out of my system.
Whereas the fact that her proximity to Jethro appeared to be effecting these deeper changes to her psyche, suggested something more, something she didn't want to probe any further.
He said he doesn't do love. Good, because nor will I.

Impatient and agitated by a problem she couldn't solve, Vashti rose from the bed and, opening the sliding door, wandered onto the balcony that encircled the upper floor of the house. She was wearing only a thin cotton nightshirt and the cool fall air made her shiver slightly. Leaning on the rail, she gazed out into the darkness. The uninterrupted silence wrapped itself around her, eerie, yet strangely comforting. The lake was a glassy reflection, bouncing back a perfect image of the moon and stars above her head.

“What are you doing out here?”

Because she hadn't heard Jethro approach, he was right behind her before she felt his presence. When he spoke, his voice was a soft growl in her ear. His hands came down firmly on the rail on either side of her, imprisoning her in the circle of his arms. Vashti attempted to turn so she was facing him, but he pressed himself hard up against her, imprisoning her against the balcony rail with his body. His erection pressed into her spine, signaling his intentions. A storm of desire shuddered through her whole body as his teeth nipped at the back of her neck.

She wanted to speak, to protest at his high-handed assumption that this was what she wanted. But wasn't this
exactly
what she wanted? What she had been hoping for? As one muscular arm slid around her waist and the other hand moved to under the hem of her nightshirt to caress her thighs, the only sound she could manage was a helpless whimper.

“Let go of her, you trickster bastard.” It was Jethro's voice. Icy with pent-up fury. A few feet away from where Vashti was standing. Yet weren't those his fingertips sliding just inside the elastic of her underwear? What the hell was going on here?

“Must I? We were having so much fun.” The voice in her ear was mocking and all too familiar. It took a moment or two, but then the reality of what had happened sank in. With a furious exclamation, Vashti brought her elbow back hard into Iago's stomach. Too late. He was already gone. Only the sound of his derisive laughter lingered briefly in the still night air.

Red-hot heat flooded her face as she turned to face the real Jethro. “I thought it was you...”

Oh, dear God! That didn't make it any better. She might as well admit she would be happy to let him bend her over the balcony rail and take her any time he wanted. Despite his anger, the brighter flare in the dark depths of his eyes was a brief acknowledgment Jethro knew exactly what she was saying.

Drawing in a deep breath to cover her embarrassment, she tried for a more composed tone. “How do you suppose he found us?”

“Your guess is as good as mine.” Some of the tension in his frame relaxed slightly. “He could have been with us the whole time. We don't know if he's gone away now.”

Vashti brought her hands up to her upper arms, hugging herself against the breeze that suddenly seemed to chill her flesh through the thin fabric of her nightshirt. “That's a horrible thought.”

“Would you put it past him? From what I saw just now, I reckon he'd be quite capable of joining you in your bed or in the shower.”

Vashti cast a glance over her shoulder. He was right, of course. Iago would try any trick to unnerve them, no matter how devious or dirty. “That settles it. We're swapping rooms.”

Jethro shook his head. “It doesn't matter what room you're in, if he wants to find you, he will. And I've had a thought more horrible than yours. He can impersonate me, but he can imitate you just as easily. I don't like the idea of waking up with Iago's tongue in my mouth...or elsewhere. This might seem like a massive U-turn considering my opposition to the idea of you accompanying me on this mission—” he reached out a hand and, much to Vashti's surprise, caught hold of her wrist “—but I'm not letting you out of my sight from now on.”

Chapter 8

“I
still don't see how locking the door will work if he's already in here with us.” Vashti flopped wearily into a chair beside the bed as Jethro prowled around his bedroom, checking the windows.

“If the slimy little bastard is in here, he'll have to show himself sooner or later. That way I can get my hands around his scrawny throat before he has another chance to escape.” He flicked a glance in her direction; she looked tired but unbearably desirable. Although he couldn't quite figure out why that should be the case, since she was wearing a perfectly respectable nightshirt that kept her covered from neck to knee.

“Why don't we make this easier? I promise faithfully
not
to try to seduce you during the night. Now, if anyone does slide into bed with you, you'll know it's Iago.” Vashti smothered a yawn behind her hand. “Mind you, if he's listening to this conversation, he'll know he's lost the element of surprise. I expect he'll be plotting something else instead.” She gave a mischievous chuckle. “Always supposing cozying up to you was his intention. I hate to be the one to break this to you, but you might not be his type.”

Her laughter was infectious and Jethro couldn't help smiling in response. “That's the problem. Now he knows where we are, we have to expect the unexpected. All the time.” He quickly became serious again. “We also have to assume Iago is not the only one who knows our whereabouts.”

Vashti's eyes went to the window, as though she expected to see someone standing in the darkness outside looking in. Even before she spoke, Jethro knew who she was picturing. “My father?” It was as if those two words had drained all the life from her. The laughing sprite of seconds earlier was replaced by a colorless shadow. If the mere thought of Moncoya could do that to his own daughter, was it any wonder Cal didn't want him ruling the faerie dynasty?

“He and Iago are allies. As soon as Moncoya gets an inkling of this mission to find the challenger, he'll do everything he can to put a stop to it.” He drew the drapes, shutting out the darkness and, hopefully, Moncoya's image with it. “I think it's time to move on, don't you?”

“Do we have to go right now?” Vashti cast a longing look in the direction of the bed.

“Tomorrow will do. There is something I have to do first, and I want to see Gillespie again before we go.”

“Why?”

Why indeed?
Jethro wasn't sure he could answer that question. He just felt there was unfinished business back at the old house. What it was, he couldn't say, or even guess at. “To make sure Bertha isn't suffering any ill effects.” It was the truth, but not all of it. “And I suppose I need one final attempt to get him to let me send Bertha to Otherworld.”

Vashti glanced around the room again. “Iago isn't in here.”

“What makes you say that?” He came to sit near her on the bed, so close their knees were almost touching. Her eyes were huge in the pale oval of her face, the sidhe ring of fire blazing brighter than ever.

“I just feel it.” She shook her head. “The fae has never been strong in me, but, since I've been in the mortal realm, its force has been growing more powerful all the time. A minute ago, when I said he wasn't here, I was fairly sure I was right. Since you sat down there, I've become absolutely certain of it.” Her eyes scanned his face. “Could your nearness affect my ability?”

Jethro shrugged. “I'm not dismissing the idea, but I don't know. It's not something I've experienced or even heard of.”

Vashti stretched her arms above her head. “Maybe I'm being fanciful and I just need to get some sleep. Since you've locked me in here, do you mind explaining the sleeping arrangements?”

The bed was huge, but Jethro very much doubted she'd be willing to share it. On one level, he felt a sense of regret. He had a feeling sharing a bed with Vashti could turn out to be a life-changing experience. But was life-changing what he wanted—or needed—right now? On a purely physical level, there was only one answer to that question. It started with
hell
and ended with
yeah
. Of course he did. His rational mind attempted to restore a sense of balance. Life was complicated enough. Distance was what was needed here.

“You take the bed.” He pointed at the sofa Bertha had lovingly restored many years ago. He knew from experience it was the most uncomfortable item of furniture in the house. “I'll sleep there. And just so we're clear—” Vashti glanced up at him, a question in her eyes “—that promise you made works both ways. I won't be sneaking in beside you, either.”

She blushed. “I'm so tired I wouldn't notice.”

Just as he'd decided to be sensible and keep his distance, some roguish impulse prompted him to see if he could deepen that blush further. “Oh, you'd notice.”

Sure enough, the soft tinge of color in her cheeks darkened to a deep rose and she drew in a ragged breath. Jethro decided it was the most enticing sound he had ever heard. Unfortunately, the success of his tactics meant he was now going to endure a night tormented by erotic fantasies instead of getting the decent sleep he desperately needed. It was worth it, to see that look of delicious confusion spread across her face.

“Sweet dreams, Princess.” Grabbing a pillow and blanket from the top shelf of the closet, he settled into his makeshift bed.

* * *

Jethro gulped coffee and groaned, stretching his limbs. Every muscle seemed to cry out in protest after possibly the worst night's sleep he'd ever had. And that was saying something when he considered some of the places he'd been forced to get his head down in the past.

Vashti, who looked bright-eyed, regarded him over the top of her coffee cup. “I slept really well.”

“Yes, my bed
is
comfortable, isn't it? At least your slumber was uninterrupted by Iago.”

“Completely uninterrupted.” She placed her coffee cup on the counter, casting him a sidelong glance as she did. “By anyone.”

“Hey—” Jethro held up a hand in a mock defensive gesture “—I told you I wouldn't be sneaking in beside you.” He watched her face, sensing the change in mood as she fought some sort of internal battle.

Vashti took a deep breath, turning to face him. “Maybe I hoped you would.”

Damn.
It took Jethro two steps to close the space between them. This wasn't what he needed...so how come he had never needed anything so much in his whole life? He didn't so much meet Vashti halfway as collide with her as she cast herself into his arms. Why had he wasted hours on that rock-hard sofa last night torturing himself with fantasies, when this was what she wanted, too? That was the last coherent thought he had for some time.

Vashti rose on the tips of her toes, pressing her lips to his. It started tender. Just a simple kiss. No pressure. But the tingle her touch sent through him stripped the last remnants of Jethro's willpower away. His mouth possessed her. With a murmur of approval, Vashti slipped her arms around his neck. The kiss peaked and became dizzying. Her lips parted to the insistent demands of his and, when his tongue swept inside, she responded instantly. Each time his tongue glided across hers, Jethro felt a tremor run through her in response. He broke away, panting harder than after his run the previous night.

“Sure about this?”

“Do I look like someone who's having second thoughts?” Since her fingers moved to the button on his jeans as she spoke, he assumed the question was rhetorical.

Jethro didn't need any further encouragement. Tugging Vashti's nightshirt up, he grasped her around the waist, lifting her onto the counter. His fingers scrabbled frantically at his zipper, freeing his erection. Thanking past experience for the foresight that meant he always had a condom in his pocket, he fumbled with the foil wrapper. Standing between Vashti's thighs, he gripped his latex-sheathed cock in one hand, positioning himself at her entrance. Vashti clutched his shoulders, meeting his gaze and giving him the permission his eyes sought. Clenching the powerful muscles of his buttocks, Jethro thrust into her. Her cry—a sound midway between pleasure and surprise—rang out as her head fell back and her whole body tensed.

“Did I hurt you?” It took every ounce of restraint he possessed to hold still.

“It's not that—” she caught her lip between her teeth “—it's just so much
more
than I expected.”

“We haven't started yet.”

Jethro's every muscle ached with the effort of keeping his raging desire in check. He desperately needed to finish this the way his body was demanding, to pound into her, to take her hard and fast and furious. Mindful of her inexperience, he knew he had to take it slow. Sliding his hands beneath her buttocks, he lifted her closer. Her flesh was silk beneath his hands, her unique fragrance seeped into his pores, her blue eyes claimed him.

He groaned as Vashti tightened her muscles around him. “What the hell are you doing?”

“Using my initiative.” Her voice was unbearably husky. “Is that allowed?”

“Only if you're prepared to take the consequences.” He pinned her with his gaze.

“I'll risk it.” She gripped him harder.

Slipping partway out of her, Jethro thrust forward again, gritting his teeth as the need to lose control almost overwhelmed him. Her heat engulfed him, stiffening his cock, electrifying the nerve endings in his spine and drenching him in sweat. His erection jerked inside her and he dragged in a shuddering breath.

“Please...” Vashti begged, “I need you to keep doing that.”

Needing no further encouragement, he held her in position so she was impaled on his cock and pistoned his hips hard and fast. Vashti's muscles clenched around his throbbing shaft as he stretched and then released her. She wrapped her legs around his hips, bucking in time with his rhythm, taking as much of his cock as she could. He drove into her as if he couldn't get deep enough, couldn't take her fast enough, couldn't get enough of her. As he ground his pelvis against hers, sparks of sensation shimmered from the point of contact between them to his nerve endings. Jethro's thrusts grew ever more frenzied, his cock thickening and his sac tight and aching. Vashti tangled her fingers in his hair and held on as her body shattered into orgasm, her body gripping him rhythmically and forcing him to join her. Panting, convulsed with pleasure, he buried his face in the curve of her neck, groaning as he emptied himself into her.

When he finally eased out of her and lifted her from the counter, Jethro held Vashti against him. The whirlwind of emotion coursing through him was like nothing he had ever experienced. What the hell was going on? This sense of completion went way beyond the fulfillment great sex—okay, amazing, earth-shattering sex—brought with it. This was a maelstrom of feeling that gripped him and flung him to the edge of euphoria. Whatever it was, Vashti was clearly feeling it, too. She clung to him as if she was buffeted by a storm and he was her sanctuary. If this woman was trying to drive him insane, she was doing a pretty good job. Already, the memory of the enchantment of being inside her was washing over him again. She was invading his senses. The smell of her hair. The feel of that silken skin. The honeyed taste of her lips. His body was beginning to crave her again, mere seconds after withdrawing from her.

“Are you going to tell me mortals do
that
all the time?” Her voice was slightly stunned. “That it meant nothing?”

He gave a shaky laugh. “If I did, I'd be lying.”

How could he explain his feelings to her when he didn't understand them himself? Cursing the set of circumstances that had brought them to this point in time, Jethro wished he could turn back the clock. To that Alliance meeting when he had negotiated this mad deal. Not because he wished the last half hour of his life undone. On the contrary, he wanted to repeat it. Every day. Forever. But that wasn't going to happen. This was Moncoya's daughter, for fuck's sake! She was probably going to one day marry some powerful Otherworld leader and preside over her own dynasty. Hell, she could end up reigning over the vampire territory as Tibor's bride. They could demand Jethro's head on a plate as a wedding gift and every undead being in Otherworld would be falling over themselves to provide it.
I'd have walked away from this challenge if I'd known she could make me feel like this.
Jethro had believed he was immune to the sort of lightning bolt that had struck Cal and Lorcan. He gave himself a mental shake.
I
am
immune. Just because we had great sex doesn't make us bonded together for life.

Now he had to convince himself of that, before explaining it to Vashti. Just as he was pursuing that line of thought, Vashti lifted her head. The usually clear, pale blue of her eyes was darker and stormier, the ring of fire muted.

“We should get ready to leave.”

Jethro nodded, releasing her from the circle of his arms and watching as she walked away from him toward the spiral staircase. He had been about to say the same thing. So where had this overpowering sense of disappointment come from?

* * *

Vashti gave Jethro an incredulous look as he locked up the house. His jaw was tight, his expression closed and completely unreadable.
So, clearly we are going to continue as if nothing happened.
It was as if that tumultuous outpouring of passion between them had never taken place. Was he regretting it? It certainly looked that way. Vashti's pride kicked up a notch.
Who the hell does he think he is? Or is this what he does? Is he so used to having any woman he wants he doesn't acknowledge his partner has feelings?
True, she had been the one to withdraw from their embrace and walk away. But only because she had acted on the turmoil she sensed in him. Whatever inner battle he had been waging immediately after they made love, it appeared to have been resolved in favor of a return to taciturnity. Well, two could play at that game. No way was Vashti going to cling to him and try to cajole him into analyzing what had happened between them. No matter how much she wanted to.