Rhiannon had never needed a shower so badly in her life.

Forty-eight straight hours in the car, after a night spent in a cage, equaled the perfect confluence of events to make a person smell like ass, as Lucas would say.

Lucas.

She didn't even know how to think about him, so she pushed the thought aside and showered three days of grunge away and then pulled her only set of clean clothes out of her go-bag and hurriedly dressed. She didn't know what to do with the clothes she'd been wearing—wash them or burn them? Finally, she shoved them in an unused plastic laundry bag she found in the closet and decided to think about that later, too.

She glanced at the clock again, for the thirtieth time in the past hour. If he didn't show up by her deadline, she was going to head out to their enclave in Deception Pass Park, even if she had to walk the whole damn way. Every muscle in her body was clenched into a giant knotted ball, and her teeth were chattering so hard with anticipation or fear that she probably looked like a meth addict.

Thinking about addicts made her think about Lucas with those Doritos, which made her even more nervous, because she had no time to think about sexy, lethal, Atlantean warriors, no matter how much he might have gotten under her skin.

And that kiss. She'd never been kissed like that in her life—like he wanted to devour her, whole. She'd wanted to devour him right back, to be entirely honest. If they hadn't had a far, far more important mission, she might have even gone so far as to tear his clothes off.

Or her own.

She wrinkled her nose. Maybe not. Maybe not here in Motel Smells-Like-Ass.

But later…

Or not.

Damn. She needed to go back to not thinking about him. Or that kiss. Or if they had any kind of future after they rescued Stevie. Because the first thing she needed to do was find a new place to live where Brock could never find her again, and she didn't think Poseidon would be so crazy about letting his warrior move to BumCrap, Idaho, or SnoozeFest, Oklahoma and play house with her.

Play house?

If the walls didn't look suspicious, she would have banged her head against them. She was getting way, way ahead of herself here, thinking about her 'future' with a man she'd only met a couple of days ago; a man who was a self-confirmed killer.

Was it fair to use the man for his warrior nature while at the same time condemning him for it?

Enough, already.

She looked at the clock again. He had twenty-two minutes, and then she was gone. The door swung open, and Rhi dove for her bag and then turned to aim her stolen gun at the intruder's head.

Lucas, framed in the doorway, grinned and held up his hands. "I surrender."

She said several very bad words beneath her breath and lowered the gun. "Knock next time. I could have shot you!"

He raised an eyebrow. "Not with the safety on. And what does 'suck my moldy gumballs' mean?"

"I can't swear around Stevie, so I had to come up with alternatives. Tell me. Did you see her? Is she okay?" She dropped the gun back into the bag and ran over to him. "Tell me!"

He pulled her into his arms and kicked the door closed. Then he took a deep breath and rested his cheek on the top of her head, his powerful body shuddering as if he'd run a marathon to get to her—or as if he desperately needed the comfort of her touch. Or maybe that last was projecting her own feelings, because she suddenly felt an overwhelming need to hold him so tightly he could never leave her.

Instead, she pushed him away. "Stevie? Tell me," she demanded.

"Yes. I saw her, but only for a minute or two, until the grandmother—Tannis?—took her into a cabin." He raised his hand as if to touch her, but then let it drop. His eyes darkened, his face shifting to hard planes and angles. "I saw him, too. The man you escaped. Believe me, it took every ounce of my will to keep from killing him where he stood. Brock."

The mere sound of his name rocked her back on her heels. No. I'm not that scared girl anymore.

"Did she look okay? Was she harmed?"

He shook his head and smiled a little. "No. She was obviously upset, but I could see no injury. She's a beautiful little girl."

Rhi all but leapt the over to the bed and grabbed her bag. "We're going. Now. We have to get my daughter away from that monster."

But Lucas moved to block the door. "No. Not now."

She walked over to him and shoved him. Hard. "Get out of my way, or I'll go through you. I appreciate your help, but if you try to keep me from Stevie for one second longer, I'll go through you."

"Rhiannon. Hear me out. We can't go now, because we'd never reach your daughter. We need to wait—"

"I'm done waiting!" She felt the scream trying to claw its way out of her throat. "Move!"

He closed his eyes for a moment, then blew out a breath. "Please. Listen. We need to wait for another two hours, because they're planning a huge welcome-home feast at eight o'clock."

"So?"

"So, there will be a great deal of chaos and confusion around seven-thirty, I'm guessing, and that would be the perfect time to stage a rescue." He told her what he'd seen and heard at the shifter enclave, and her shoulders relaxed the tiniest bit.

"A big party, basically," she said bitterly. "A 'celebrate your successful kidnapping' part. Well, Brock was always one for festivity."

Lucas moved away from the door and toward the tiny bathroom, and again she was struck by the feral grace of the man. Even walking across the orange-carpeted floor of a shitty motel room, he was every inch the powerful warrior.

Suddenly, she found it hard to speak. Relief combined with exhaustion and her defenses simply collapsed around her in shattered rubble. Her breath started to hitch, and Lucas froze and then turned his head to look back at her, concern obvious in his startling gray eyes.

"Are you all right? No, that's a stupid question, of course you're not all right. But will you be okay alone for a few minutes while I shower? I don't want to meet your daughter smelling like road trip and Doritos." He offered her a smile, and a fierce rush of longing swept through her.

Longing for her daughter, for a simpler, safer life. Longing for a sense of connection. Longing to feel—just for one isolated moment in time—not so terribly alone.

"Lucas?"

"Yes?"

She pulled off her shirt. "I'll join you."

Lucas's heart stopped beating entirely as he looked at her, then resumed its pace in rapid, frantic pounding. She was so beautiful. So brave and defiant and fierce that he wanted to sweep her into his embrace and never let her go.

Wanted to kneel at her feet and beg her never to leave him.

He did neither, but waited, in an agony of hope and fear, for her to take the next step.

"If that's okay with you," she said, taking a step toward him.

He broke free of his paralysis and ripped off his shirt. "My beautiful one, nothing has ever been more okay with me in my entire life."

Suddenly, they were locked together, kissing, holding each other, desperate to get closer and closer, to fend off the outside world. Lucas wanted to hold her so tightly that she could feel him wrapped around her--feel the way she'd smashed through his defenses and found her way into his heart.

"Lucas," she gasped, still kissing him, pulling off her clothes as she pushed him back. "I need you. I need to feel real and alive and hopeful. Please. Please."

Any chance he had at resisting her vanished with that final please. He locked his arms around her waist and lifted her into the air, kissing her so deeply he hoped she felt him inside her soul. The feel of her smooth, warm skin against his was driving him out of what was left of his mind. She smelled like flowers and woman and possibility, and he wanted her so desperately that he would have killed to have her.

He would have died for her.

The realization startled him, but then it settled into him mind and heart with a sense of rightness so complete that he only wondered why he hadn't realized it before. This woman was destined to be part of his future.

She was definitely part of his now.

He stepped into the shower, still holding her, and turned on the water without touching the faucet. Without taking his hands off her hips, and then her ass, and then her beautiful, rose-tipped breasts.

"If you don't let me take you, right now, I may go insane," he growled, praying that she would say yes. Praying that she wanted him as much as he wanted her. Praying that she wouldn't come to her senses and push him away.

Rhiannon flashed a brilliant, almost feral smile. "Yes."

And then she reached down and grabbed his cock.

Part of Rhiannon' brain was screaming at her to stop, slow down, think about what you're doing.

She told that part of her mind to go to hell.

Right now, all she wanted was to climb Lucas's strong, muscled body until he slammed her against the shower wall and fucked her. When she wrapped her hand around his thick, hard shaft, his entire body jerked, and his muscles strained into tight relief.

"Rhiannon," he groaned. "It's killing me to even say this, but are you sure?"

She leaned forward and licked one of his flat copper nipples. "I'm very sure. I need you now, Lucas. Make me forget that we might fail. That we might die trying. Make me feel alive and wanted and needed."

He pinned her with his hot gray gaze. "You are all of those things, mi amara, but—"

She closed his mouth with a hot, hard kiss and then raised one leg and wrapped it around him. "Fuck me, Lucas. Fuck me now."

He shouted out some unintelligible sound of joy and triumph and want and need and knelt before her, learning her body with his hands and lips and tongue. Taking her breasts into his hands and licking her nipples into his mouth. Sucking on them until she writhed beneath his touch, then moving down her body with kisses and touches until he reached her sweet, hot, pussy.

She was already wet for him. His cock hardened to the point of pain, and he grasped he hips in his hands and bent to take her in his mouth. He swept his tongue into her sweet honey, and then he licked the sensitive bud of her clitoris and sucked it into her mouth.

She screamed and clutched his shoulders, so he licked her and sucked her until she was shuddering, calling his name, and then he thrust two fingers into her and she exploded into shuddering spasms beneath his mouth.

"Lucas," she moaned, and then she pulled at him until he stood and took her trembling body back into his arms.

"I need you so much, Lucas. Inside me. Please."

He lifted her chin, so he could search her eyes. "Are you sure?"

"Yes," she moaned, but then she blinked and bit her lip. "Wait. Are you safe? Do you have protection?"

"Protection?" Realization dawned. "Oh. Yes, we are safe. I cannot contract or transmit human diseases, nor give you a child unless we petitioned Poseidon to conceive."

His heart suddenly lurched at the idea of Rhiannon round with his child.

She shook her hair away from her face and smiled such a slow, sexy, hungry smile that his cock jumped against her. "Then yes. Take me now. I want you inside me, Lucas, I want to feel you so deep inside me that you'll never, ever forget me."

"As if that were even a possibility," he murmured, and then he lifted her into her arms.

She wrapped her legs around his waist and raised her hips and he plunged home into her heat, into her core, into the sweet, sweet comfort of her body, and he stopped, dissolving into pure sensation—pure longing—pure need. A sense of rightness suffused him…a feeling of home.

He leaned his forehead against hers and simply reveled in the moment.

And then she bit his neck. "Fuck me, Lucas. Now."

He laughed with pure delight and obliged. He thrust into her body so hard and fast that he felt like he was flying; like he was drowning in sensation—drowning in bliss.

"Harder," she moaned. "Faster. Make me come again."

"Yes," he rasped. "Yes."

He plunged his cock home, again and again, harder and faster until she flew apart in his arms, screaming his name, which drove him over the precipice and he, too, exploded, coming and coming and coming until his body trembled with the aftermath.

She lowered her legs until she stood shaking on the tile floor, and he swirled the water around them in soft, warm, cleansing ribbons. Then he wrapped her in a large, white towel, drying her gently while she stood, eyes closed, all but purring in satisfaction.

When he stopped, she fastened the towel and smiled at him. "Thank you. I—needed that. I just couldn't take one more second of fear and worry and…well. Thank you."

Lucas shook his head. "Don't thank me for what I give with so much pleasure. Rhiannon, I…I find myself falling in love with you, I think."

Her eyes widened. "You…you think?"

"I've never been in love before," he admitted, busying himself with drying his body so he didn't have to look at her stunned face. He was an idiot. She had no time for unwanted declarations of love now.

"Lucas, I have feelings for you, too, but I can't—I don't—"

He swallowed the boulder that was suddenly blocking his throat. "I understand. I'm sorry. I could not have picked a worse time to burden you with this confession—"

She put her hand on his cheek, silencing whatever he'd been about to say. "No. It's not that. It's just…I've never trusted anyone who didn't betray me. I don't know how to open my heart. I want to talk about this, but maybe not now?"

He bent down and gently kissed her lips. "First, we rescue your daughter. Then we will have this conversation."

She nodded. "Yes. We will. But I have to warn you—after we get Stevie, I need to run. Run far and fast and find someplace where Stevie and I will be safe."

"No, you don't need to run. You need to fly, all the way to Atlantis." He kissed her once more and they headed out the door.