Dreams of a Dark Warrior

TWENTY-FOUR

“So this is Declan Chase’s lair,” Regin murmured as she gazed around. I got inside! Somehow she’d conquered the worst of her temper, and now she’d been rewarded.

His quarters were similar to his office—devoid of personality, shadowy, and freakishly neat. The interior had three levels, one with a king-size bed and a massive computer console, a second with a kitchen and what looked like a weapons armory, and a third with a workout area. There were no windows.

Dark and creepy. With a forced smile, she said, “It suits you.”

He sat at the console, still thrumming with tension. Something had happened today that had rattled the hell out of him. But she didn’t give a damn what. She was here only to deliver one heaping order of downfall. The man before her had proved himself irredeemable.

She sauntered over to join him—and found some of the most technologically advanced surveillance and computing systems she’d ever imagined.

Budget? Unlimited. Like congressional-spending unlimited.

“Wow, look at this setup. NASA called. They want Houston back.”

What a reality check. Mortals actually had power—they were organized, well-funded, determined—and they were going to use it to destroy Lorekind.

Chase was leaving her no choice but to strike against him.

She scooted over, about to hop up on the desk. Without taking his eyes off her face, he moved a neat stack of papers, absently clearing the space for her.

She took it. “Do you watch me a lot on those high-def feeds?”

“On occasion.”

“Uh-huh. So now you can watch me in person. Live nude girls in your bath. Be a good magister and unlock the cuffs, won’t you?” She gave him a heated look as she added, “Unless you think I can take you?”

When he hesitated, she said, “You can either remove them or strip and bathe me yourself. Gentleman’s choice.”

His Adam’s apple bobbed as if he was picturing the latter option. But then he flicked two fingers at her. “Turn around. And eyes forward.”

Eyes forward? She didn’t give him a chance to change his mind, quickly twisting to give him her back.

She heard him pull off a glove, so tempted to peek. What didn’t he want her to see?

Declan’s scarred hand looked monstrous next to her perfect, glowing skin. A timely reminder.

I will never let her see these scars.

Once he’d unlocked the cuffs and hastily dragged his glove back on, she hopped off the desk and began exploring his quarters, just as she had his office. He merely observed as she investigated the refrigerator, opened drawers and closets.

She tried to open the weapons locker and couldn’t. “What’s in here? Your personal arsenal?”

Precisely. But he said nothing. She grew bored with it soon enough and continued her exploration, heading toward the bathroom.

From inside, she called, “Taking you up on your bath offer! Tale to follow. I’ll just yoink some shampoo and soap.” Then she began running the water.

He strode inside in time to see her traipsing naked to the bath, that exquisite ass swishing, the ends of her blond hair swaying just above the small of her back.

He took a stutter step, hardening at once. Running a hand over his mouth, he turned and began to pace outside the door. Go watch her bathe. She’s naked but for her collar. In my keeping. He experienced a sharp masculine thrill to have a female like that under his power.

“I don’t suppose you’ll reconsider washing me?” she called. “Maybe my back? Or my front?”

Though she was a forbidden immortal, he almost wished he could do both. He scowled down at his gloved hands.

Steam began to waft from the bathroom. When sweat beaded his upper lip, he hated anew the layers of clothes he was forced to wear. With a muffled curse, he entered the hazy room to find her reclining in the tub, blanketed by a mound of bubbles. She raised one glowing leg in the air and smoothed her hands down it.

He imagined following her hands with his mouth. …

Most immortals weren’t shy about nudity, but she behaved as if they’d done this a hundred times. A man watching his woman in the bath. Of course, in her mind, they had done this a hundred times.

With as much nonchalance as he could manage—considering he was hard as wood—he sat on a bench by the wall. Enough distance between them.

She smiled at him. “Come join me.”

“No’ likely.” To have her slippery skin rubbing against his? Half of him shuddered with want, the other half recoiling. He could only imagine her reaction to the sight of his scars.

Though Declan might not deserve to be, he was a proud man; he would never risk that humiliation.

“Your loss.” As she began leisurely washing her hair, the tips of her ears peeked out. Pointed ears. Another example of how alien she was.

Yet now he was so far gone that he could admit he found them intensely attractive.

When she briefly ducked under the water to rinse her hair, the bubbles began dissipating, almost revealing her breasts. Would they match what he’d seen of her in his dreams?

He distrusted this female, had the urge to throttle her at times, might even hate her. And still I’ve got to see her breasts—

“Ahem. Should we get to the tale?” She’d caught him peering hard at her chest.

“Go on, then.”

“Tonight, I’ll tell you the story of when you were Gabriel, a lusty pirate. You found me five hundred years ago during the last Accession.”

Wasn’t this the reincarnation representing humor and sex? Declan could recognize that Regin was humorous, the things she said outrageous, but he was missing the humor gene. Nor was he a good lover. And he didn’t see those traits changing anytime soon.

If Declan had been jealous of Aidan and even of Treves, this pirate should send him through the roof.

Regin relaxed back in the bath, or at least, she appeared to relax. She was on a mission.

She might not be a golden-tongued Valkyrie, but she was resolved to take down Chase, intended to go full guns and turn up the heat.

All I need is one kiss.

She would detail Gabriel’s relentless seduction, their sensual battle of wills waged nightly in his sultry cabin. She had struggled to deny the Spaniard to save him from the curse; he’d used everything he knew to seduce her. …

“Gabriel was a privateer who answered only to his queen,” Regin said. “His flag—a crimson pennant with two ravens in flight—struck fear in anyone who had the misfortune of seeing it.”

Had Chase just flinched at that?

“He overtook the ship I was on, taking me captive.”

“How did you recognize him?”

“His eyes glowed. Just as yours did after you gutted me in the street.” Filter, Regin!

When Chase’s jaw tightened, Regin quickly continued, “He knew we had some kind of connection. But he didn’t question it, just accepted it. He turned his back on queen and country, wanting only to start a life with me.”

Regin fell silent, remembering how nothing could dissuade Gabriel. No matter what she said, no matter how she tried to warn him: “You must believe me! If you do not free me, you will die in some ghastly way. I’m cursed. You understand about curses—you’re a Spaniard, for the gods’ sakes!”

“A curse would be living without you by my side,” he said so smoothly.

“At least get me to land.” So she could consult a witch about how to save Gabriel before he died, to find a way to beat this.

“Land? We do not make the Indies for months.”

“The Indies?” she shrieked.

“Sí. By that time, you will have surrendered to me.”

In the end, Regin hadn’t had much choice. …

Suddenly Chase said, “I don’t want to hear of the Spaniard.”

She blinked at him. And there goes that plan. “I thought that’s why I’m here.”

“I want to hear what you’d tell the next reincarnation of Aidan.” He got a shrewd look in his eyes. “What you’d tell him … about me.”