Chapter Five

True to his word, Ivan arrived back at the palace just before midnight.

As the doorknob to her suite rattled softly, Maricela sat at the table, a bottle of tequila and two empty glasses in front of her. She’d resisted the urge to open the bottle and down a little liquid courage, but as the door swung open, she bitterly regretted her decision.

Ivan stepped in and stopped, his gaze sweeping the room before settling on her at the table. His brow furrowed. “You didn’t have to sit up. There was a guard keeping an eye on your room.”

“I know. I was waiting for you.” She pulled the chair next to hers away from the table. “Have a seat.”

He obeyed, dropping a battered notebook on the table in front of him. “Did you have a good family dinner?”

“It was nice.” She opened the bottle. “How are things down in the barracks?”

“The same as usual. Laurel’s visiting again. She was talking like she might come to the house party with us.”

“Oh?” She filled one glass with way too much tequila and slid it toward him.

He accepted the glass but didn’t drink. “Have you met her yet?”

Ana liked her so very much, and so did Gideon. If they could manage it, they’d probably talk her into joining the Riders and staying permanently. “Not yet.”

“I’d like to introduce you before we leave. If there are going to be any activities where a male guard is impractical, Ana and Laurel can step in.”

“All right.” He was making small talk, something she knew didn’t come easily to him, and the effort was almost enough to change her mind. She could hold her tongue, pretend that she’d waited up only because she wanted to see him. It wasn’t far from the truth.

But it wouldn’t be fair--to either of them.

So she filled her glass and picked it up. “We need to talk about what happened at the temple today.”

His fingers tightened on the glass. “Okay.”

When she’d tried to imagine this conversation, this was as far as she’d gotten--we need to talk. But now she didn’t know what to say. “We had a...moment.”

He didn’t deny it, just lifted his tequila and sipped it. “I’m sorry.”

She wasn’t sure blame was the issue. If it was, it might be easier--for both of them--to let him take it. But nothing about the situation felt easy. “You were far from alone. I mean, I’m the one who licked you.”

The muscles in his arm tightened again. His lips parted, drawing her gaze, but it took another few seconds for any words to emerge. “It was a tense situation. It’s not unusual for adrenaline and fear to provoke unexpected physical reactions. It wasn’t your fault.”

Only biting down mercilessly on the inside of her cheek kept her from bursting into nervous laughter. “That’s what you think? That I lick people when my fight-or-flight responses kick in?”

His too-serious gaze roved over her face, so intense she could feel it. “No, I suppose not.”

“I wasn’t frightened.” The confession should have embarrassed her, but the flush that heated her cheeks was something far more visceral. “I was turned on.”

Still no obvious response. Ivan’s ability to keep a stony expression was legendary, but the lack of reaction was nerve-wracking.

The silence grew as Ivan finished his drink and set the glass down with such rigid control, it barely clinked on the table. “What do you need, Maricela?”

What a tricky, tricky question. “I don’t know. Your help, I guess.”

He swallowed, the strong muscles in his throat working. “You can say anything you need to say. Ask for anything you want. I won’t be upset. I’m here to take care of you.”

Oh yes, he would give her anything she asked him for--and that was the problem. “Exactly. We can’t have a relationship, even something casual based on sex. Normally, it might not be a problem, but this isn’t a normal situation. You’re acting as my personal guard.”

“Yes, I am. And that means not crossing the line.” He reached out and covered her hand with his. His calloused fingers scraped over her skin in a rasping tease. “You can feel whatever you need to feel. Trust me to hold that line. To protect you.”

“I do trust you.” There was no one she trusted more--and that just made things worse. She liked Ivan. She liked him too much.

“Then we only have one relationship. Bodyguard--” he pointed to himself, then, with his lips quirking into a hint of a smile, pointed at her, “--and a very sleepy princess. We have a couple of big days of packing and preparation before we head out. You’ll want plenty of rest.”

He was taking this all with perfect, utter calm, and she wasn’t sure whether his composure inspired confidence or indignation. But that was her bruised ego talking, the part of her that needed to know it was just as difficult for him to keep his distance as it was for her.

The selfish part of her. A good person would be glad that at least one of them had a little self-control. That one of them wasn’t suffering the aches of thwarted lust.

Maybe she wasn’t such a good person, after all.

She downed her tequila in two burning gulps. “I’m going to bed.”

“All right.” He swept up his notebook. “If you need anything, I’ll be up for a while longer.”

“I need...” For a single preposterous moment, she considered telling him the truth. “You’re right. I need sleep.”

She’d curl up in her bed, alone. By the time the morning sun streamed into her windows, she’d know that she’d made the right decision.

»»» § «««

It was amazing how a tiny bit of context could change everything.

Maricela was tucked safely into bed, behind a pair of closed doors. Ivan sat in the antechamber he’d converted into a bedroom, his various sets of knives spread out on the table. He was glad he could clean them by rote because his mind was stuck back in the temple.

Wide eyes. Rapid breaths. Trembling. Clutching fingers.

He could close his eyes and imagine that moment in the alcove with crisp, perfect clarity. He could remember every noise and move she’d made, every reaction he’d interpreted as fear.

Wide eyes. Rapid breaths. Trembling. Clutching fingers.

All signs of arousal.

He should know. He’d been exhibiting most of them since he’d gotten the bedroom door shut behind her.

Ivan shifted in his chair, as if that could relieve the discomfort of an erection that seemed unwilling to subside. Somewhere around the fourth mental replay of the scene in the temple, his imagination had started to add details. Her parted lips grazing his jaw. Her fingers trailing up the back of his neck. Her mouth opening, eager for a kiss.

By the sixth replay, she moaned as his tongue stroked hers, coaxing sounds from her that echoed off the stone walls around them. By the ninth, he’d edged her dress from her shoulder, revealing smooth, light brown skin he had to taste.

If he let himself get to twelve, he’d be on his knees in front of her, making her sob with pleasure as she came on his tongue.

After twenty years of trying so, so hard to overcome the legacy of his uncles, Ivan had discovered that blasphemy did, indeed, run through his blood. Because fantasizing about putting his hands and mouth all over the sheltered Rios princess had to be a least a little bit treasonous.

Maybe he should focus on that. The treason. Add Gideon to his mental image. More specifically, Gideon finding out that Ivan wanted to do dirty, dirty things to Gideon’s baby sister. After all, Sector One might embrace love, but big brothers were frequent hypocrites.

He tried to adjust his mental image to add a furiously disapproving Gideon. But the fantasy twisted. His leader faded. Maricela’s tongue touched his ear, her voice dropping to that husky whisper he’d never forgotten, the command she’d given the last playmate to crawl into her bed. “Use your tongue.”

Shit.

Ivan dropped his knife with a clatter and curled both hands around the table’s edge until the wood bit into his palms. Maricela might want him, but she didn’t want him. She’d all but begged him to help her keep the lines nice and crisp and clear.

Princess and bodyguard. Rios and Rider.

They could never be anything more. Because her destiny was to marry some rich man or woman--or both, or a few of each--and become the matriarch of a sprawling clan that bound the important families of Sector One together in shared blood and shared purpose.

And his job was to keep that family safe. Not to imagine himself worthy of joining it.