Untamable Lover (Worlds of Lemuria: Earth Colony Book 2) (16 page)

The rejection stung, like a verbal slap to the face. He took a step back, shaking his head, trying to clear the lust that had consumed him.

What was he thinking? So unlike Eleanor, Aramie would fight him, challenge him over even the smallest decisions. He didn’t need that in his life, not now, not when he already felt weak. 

He transformed into his human state. To maintain some semblance of dignity, he straightened his shirt, even though it already molded to his chest. “Now we have their trail. Tracking our enemy should be easy.” 

Her hand curled into a fist. “You are so infuriating. Why do you play games with me?” She raised her hand. “Never mind, I don’t want to know. It doesn’t matter, anyway.” Her brown eyes bore into him, piercing him with her gaze, but her mouth quivered and betrayed her pain.

A lump formed in his throat.
She cares for me, not just as her Pride leader, but as a male.
He couldn’t speak, the words trapped in his throat. 

“Let’s go.” She headed upwind, the Gossum’s stench growing stronger with the breeze.

He followed close behind. “Aramie,” he tsked, “don’t mistake me for something I’m not—a refined, genteel male.” He hid behind his cynicism, the barrier like a familiar blanket.

She whirled around. Her about-face caught him off guard. He gripped her arms as much to prevent their collision as his need to touch her. The anger evident in her red face and pursed lips made her all the more attractive.

“Maybe I don’t want a
genteel
male.”

“Is this what you’d rather have?” 

His own frustration and desire broke through his thin veil of control. He didn’t wait for her permission, but pulled her into his arms. Without thought, he cradled her head in his palm. Her short breaths panted from her mouth. He kissed her lips, bruising her with his need. She fought him at first, but then relaxed, snaking her hands through his hair to rest at the base of his neck. 

She returned the force of the kiss, shocking him with her intensity. He licked the inside of her bottom lip, requesting entrance. She opened to him, and the taste of her delicious strawberry flavor was sweeter than he’d remembered. He pulled her closer. Her firm breasts pressed against his sweaty shirt. Beneath her blouse her nipples hardened, driving his need to claim her. 

He released her from the kiss, their heavy pants loud in the night air. Running his fingers through her hair sent a chill up his arm. The softness of those dark strands teased the sensitive pads on his fingertips. He wanted to touch every part of her body, experience all the soft places he could imagine.

“Demir—” The sensual way she said his name sent a jolt of male pride right to his groin. A guttural moan escaped his lips. At this point, he’d do anything she asked of him. 

She grabbed his bottom lip with her teeth and pulled. The combined sensation of pain and pleasure rippled along the nerves in his mouth. She let him go, and a gentle growl reverberated from her chest and into his.

The coppery taste of blood filled his mouth. She’d bitten him good. A rush of adrenaline raced to his cock, and he hardened at the realization of how rough she’d be as a lover. He wanted to find out, right here, right now.

“Hey, tough stuff,” his words were low and rough, “do you really want to tempt me?” As much as he didn’t want to, he’d give her one last chance to walk away. He pulled back and ran both his hands through her short, silky hair, prepared to kiss her once again.

Her hand raced to her hair. She patted the spot where her barrette used to be. Her eyes widened, and a frail gasp rose from her throat. “My barrette, it’s gone.” 

Her face drained of color. The pale hue set off all kinds of warning bells in his mind. 

She pulled away from him completely, and with a frantic pace, searched the ground. “Please, help me find it.” With quick and shaky hands, she patted the ground where they stood.

He kneeled next to her and placed a hand on her shoulder. “We’ll find your hair pin. Don’t worry.” 

After searching for several minutes without success, he glanced at her. She paced the area, her movement frantic. “Aramie, why is this barrette so important to you?”

She stared into his eyes, her brow furrowed. His gut twisted at her anxiety, but he had to know the answer. 

“It was a gift from my gran’ma. I have to find it.” The slack expression on her face along, with the slight glisten in her eyes, brought the pain into his chest. Her anguish over the lost hair clip was the worst kind of torture. “We have to go back—to the place where we first changed into our panthers. It must be there. It has to be.”

Her command was not something he’d challenge. To bow to anyone’s will was not his style, but for her, he would. She gave him a new purpose, a new goal—to retrieve a small red barrette. The absurdity of it wasn’t lost on him, but he was lost to her, and that was all that mattered. The Gossum would have to wait.

Chapter Twenty-Seven

The walls narrowed in this portion of the Keep, forcing Tanen to turn sideways to squeeze through the passage. Several large boulders lay scattered along the path, aftereffects of the Keep’s last outburst when the Gossum had tried to enter their sanctuary using a portal. Good thing they hadn’t succeeded. 

The sharp edge of a rock scraped the back of his arm, leaving a long scratch. Blood welled in the injury.
Craya!
A twinge of irritation flashed through his mind. He wiped the red fluid on his trousers and kept moving.

The Strong room hadn’t been occupied in hundreds of years. Stiyaha were steadfast in their loyalty to the royal family. The unused dungeon had sat in empty silence, as far back as he could recall. Not anymore.

The scent of mildew, wetness, and earth brought back memories of nights when he’d roamed the land outside the confines of the Keep. He hadn’t been outside in over a century, not since a Gossum had nearly taken him down. As a council member, he had all the same training as the rest of the warriors, but his skills were rusty from lack of use. After his little bout with the enemy, he’d elected to stay inside from then on. 

As he walked along the corridor, Mauree’s sweet scent of roses merged with the other smells. There were nights when he wished he wasn’t council leader. 

“Tanen, I hear you coming. Let me out of here!” Mauree grasped one of the bars and peered at him. Her blue eyes flecked with gold, and her greasy, matted hair hung limp around her shoulders. The dress she wore had a rip up the thigh, displaying one long elegant leg. 

An open tome lay on the stone floor, face down, the spine broken. His cheeks heated. He loved his books and all the knowledge they contained. Narrowing his focus, he glared at her. She smiled, as if enjoying his discomfort and agitation.

“If you can’t treat the ancient texts with respect, then you can’t have any.” He spit the words at her.

She laughed. The high-pitched snicker reverberated off the walls and into the corridor. Goosebumps raced over his arms.
She’s lost her mind.
 

He wished that were true. The lucid look in her eyes revealed she was as sane as anyone else in this horrible war. He shuddered and bile rose in his throat.

In direct contrast to her loud laughter, he lowered his voice. “How do you like your cell?”  

She stared hard at him. Her chipped nails and scuffed shoes were so unlike her. She liked to be pampered, and had seemed to enjoy how the males tracked her with their admiring gazes whenever she walked by. Short skirts and tight blouses were her traditional outfits. He’d noticed every one.

She gripped the bars with both hands, her fingers turning white from her exertion. “Let me out and I will repay you…like you want me to.” 

Her eyes twinkled, her smile all mischief. She opened her mouth. With a slow sweep of her tongue, she wet her bottom lip. She positioned her face next to her hands, and then glided her moist tongue along one of the cell bars.

He curled his lip, but despite his outward display of disgust, blood raced to his genitals. His own scent of musk and pepper deepened, giving away his desire. Against his will, he focused on her mouth. 

“C’mon, Tanen. I know you like what you see.” The soft lilt in her voice drew him in further. He’d been down this road before. Over the past few weeks, she’d used her sensual nature to encourage him to release her. So far, he’d been able to resist.

He moved closer and gripped her hands, the skin on skin contact like a drug to him. “Mauree.” 

Grinding his teeth, he fought his inner beast who wanted to do exactly what she wanted. “Tell me…where is Jakar’s hideout.” There was no way he’d tell her Ram was still alive. He could play this game just as well.

Her eyes bore into his. “Let me out, and I’ll tell you.” The warmth of her breath teased the skin on his clean-shaven face. 

“Tell me, and I’ll let you out.” What he’d do with her then, he wasn’t sure, but his beast had ideas. 

She closed her eyes, parted her lips, and whispered. “Too bad you’re nothing like Noeh.”

The mention of the king’s name brought reality rushing back with a wallop. He pushed away from the cell. Raw energy burned through his veins, hot and fast. She’d been after Noeh for centuries, and they were all lucky Noeh hadn’t selected Mauree as queen.

“Nice try.” His ragged breaths were loud in the empty corridor. “You’re fortunate the king hasn’t authorized torture to drag the information out of you.”

She stepped back into the darkness of her cell. Moistness made her eyes sparkle in the meager light. She grabbed the book, riffling the pages with the edge of her finger.

“Find anything in these precious books of yours, yet?” She goaded him, but he wouldn’t talk to her about his failure to find any guidance on how to prosecute her. King Noeh wanted to sentence her to death. Unless Tanen could find anything in the scriptures that said otherwise, she would die. Not that he cared about Mauree, per se, but he was responsible for upholding the laws. It wouldn’t look good if someone found the law later and realized he’d made a mistake by sentencing her to death. A bead of sweat rolled down his back.

“Give me the book.” He held out his hand. Because of his love for books, he wouldn’t let her continue to damage the old text. 

 It slipped through her fingers. The ancient tome landed on its back with a thud. “Oops. So sorry.” An eerie giggle eased from her throat.

“This is a waste of my time.” He turned and headed back the way he’d come.

“Wait! Please…don’t go.” The pleading in her voice almost broke him.

He stopped. His breathing and the small sobs coming from her cell were the only sounds in the Strong room.
Craya!
He’d regret this, he was sure.

He returned to her. The lines around her eyes softened. Her pert nose and full lips reminded him she was still a beauty. 

“Mauree. Your trial date will be in three days. You will stand before the council for treason, kidnapping, and attempted murder.” He studied her, waiting for her reaction.

She remained passive. Her gaze traveled over his body and back to his eyes. An alluring smile formed on her lips. His skin crawled, and he took a step back. She was a seductress, and he was in her crosshairs. 

“Tanen.” His name rolled off her tongue, sending a strange mixture of delight and disgust along his arms. “You want me, I can tell. Come in here. No one has to know. I would—”

“Stop. Right. There.” What did she think? That he was stupid enough to open the cell door? He sniffed the air, exaggerating the movements. “You could use a bath. Maybe I’ll send Bet. Then, again, maybe not.” 

Her mouth pursed, the bitterness and anger returning in the lines on her face. “You do that. Think about me taking a bath, Tanen. Be gentle. Don’t hurt yourself when you come in your own hand.” 

Her taunting laughter followed him all the way back to his room.

Chapter Twenty-Eight

“Where is it?” Aramie pushed the wet ferns out of the way, searching for her precious missing barrette. She held her breath, holding in a sob. If she let the wail escape, the tears would start, and she couldn’t let that happen. Not here, not in front of Demir. Water from the damp foliage splashed against her face, creating the tears she didn’t want to shed. 

The familiar scene started again, the one that played over and over in her mind. She couldn’t stop it even if she’d tried, so she let the memory consume her.

“Gran’ma, I’m home.” Warm air assailed Aramie as she stepped into their makeshift home. The small shelter they’d built over the summer kept the sun out during the day, but the stifling heat remained long into the night and made living here difficult.

“Aramie, did you bring home a kill? We’re out of meat again.” Her mother strolled into the room, the smell of her recent coupling oozing from her pores.

“Chantre, come back to bed.” Her lover’s voice boomed from the adjacent room.

Aramie winced. The male was the latest in a long string of step-fathers, none of which she’d liked. With a glare that could scrape fat from a hide, her mother’s gaze travelled over Aramie’s small frame. The older female shrugged and disappeared to be with her latest mate.

“Aramie, where’s Sidea?” Gran’ma wiped her hands on her apron. Dark circles ringed her eyes, and lines creased her cheeks. She’d reached the age where youth had let go of its hold. Time was short for her gran’ma, but as a child, Aramie had no clue how little time she had left with the one woman who loved her.

“Out back. She’s coming.” Aramie ran into her gran’ma’s arms. The warmth of her embrace was like a salve for Aramie’s rough childhood.

Gran’ma pulled back and looked into Aramie’s eyes. Her round face twisted into a devilish smile, and her eyes flashed with amusement. “Aramie, I have something for you.” She rummaged around in her pockets and pulled out her closed fists, palms down. “Pick one.”