Burning Alive

“You’re awake,” he said without opening his eyes. His deep voice wrapped around her and made the air in her lungs resonate in response.



Helen felt a little shiver race through her skin. “I . . . felt you. Felt your grief.”



“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to share that with you. I was trying to block you out.”



She could see a subtle tension running through his limbs as if he were straining against a great weight. She couldn’t see why he struggled, but she could feel his tightly held control. She wasn’t sure what he was holding back, but whatever it was, it was powerful enough to make his strong body tremble.



She couldn’t stand his suffering, but she wasn’t sure how to help him. She wasn’t even convinced he wanted her help. “Maybe you should share it.”



“Not this, Helen. The good things, yes, but not this. I’m not very adept at blocking the connection we have yet, but I’m getting better.”



She wasn’t sure whether she was more worried by that news or grateful for it. “I haven’t tried blocking it. Didn’t know I could.”



He still hadn’t opened his eyes yet and she was beginning to wonder if she’d interrupted something—some ritual maybe. She was just about to excuse herself and leave him to whatever he was doing when he spoke. “You really shouldn’t try to keep me out.”



“So it’s okay for you to do it, but not me?” She tried not to sound indignant, but couldn’t help it.



“Precisely.”



“Sounds a bit chauvinistic to me.”



“Not chauvinistic. Practical. That link is there for a reason.”



“What reason could there possibly be for a mental connection between us that only goes one way? It sounds like some kind of baby monitor and I am not a baby.”



He opened his gaze and looked at her. Really looked at her. His gaze went from her head to her bare feet and back again, and by the time he was done with the journey, his golden eyes had darkened to a rich brown. “No. You’re all woman, Helen. Don’t think I haven’t noticed.”



She was not going to respond to that with anything that wouldn’t embarrass her more, so she stayed silent.



Drake continued. “I’m supposed to be able to read your thoughts in battle so that I can position myself most effectively, anticipate your actions. If I don’t know your mind, how will I know where you want me to go?”



“You think I’m going to be able to tell you where to go? In a battle?” What a ridiculous thought.



“Yes. Perhaps not yet, but one day you will.”



“You have a lot of faith in me.” And he was talking about one day, which made it sound like they would be together for a long time—long enough for her to become some military genius, apparently. They were just supposed to be together long enough to find the sword, but he seemed to imply something more . . . lasting. The idea thrilled her more than it should have.



And Drake felt that thrill. She saw it in his face—in the way his angular cheekbones rose in a satisfied smile. “No, you’re the one with a lot of faith walking around covered in nothing but a flimsy scrap of fabric. Surely you know how much I want you. I haven’t exactly kept it a big secret.”



Suddenly, she felt part of what he’d been holding back—a hot wave of lust. It crashed into her, nearly bringing her to her knees. Instantly, her body began to heat and soften, preparing for him to take her.



Helen clamped her mouth closed over a soft cry of need.



Drake pushed to his feet, looking larger than she remembered. More powerful. Maybe it was because his chest was naked and she could easily see the heavy slabs of muscle sliding under his skin. His arms were thick and hard, especially his forearms, which had developed tightly corded muscles most men didn’t have. Sword-wielding muscles.



Just seeing him gloriously bare like that made her want to feel every inch of his naked torso under her fingers.



“I heard that,” said Drake. A seductive grin widened his mouth and he took a long step toward her.



Helen felt her nipples tighten against the soft flannel and a gentle warmth expanded low in her belly. She barely knew him, but that didn’t seem to stop her body from wanting to get closer. Naked and closer.



Instead, she did the cowardly thing, took a step back and bumped into the door frame.



“Why are you running?” he asked. “I know you want this as much as I do.”



“I came here to hold you. Comfort you.”



He lifted his dark brows. “Is that so?”



She nodded.



“If you hold me, I won’t be able to stop myself from taking more from you. I’ll strip us both naked and make us both forget why we’re here. That’s the kind of comfort I want, Helen.”



And she wanted that, too. As insane as it was. “I don’t know you.” But she wanted to. So much.



“You know more about me than nearly any person alive. You’ve seen inside my head and you can feel what I feel. Do I hold any malice toward you?”



He had a point. “No.”



He took another step, which brought him right in front of her. She could smell the shampoo he’d used and see the shine of his freshly shaven jaw. He rubbed the back of his fingers over her cheek in an unbearably gentle caress. “So soft,” he purred. “I love how soft you are. Makes me want to touch more of you. Taste you.”



Helen shivered and couldn’t stop herself from leaning into his caress. It felt too good not to. It made her hungry for more of his touches, but still she held back, refusing to let go the way she knew he wanted her to. The way she wanted to. She’d just meant to offer comfort, to ease his grief with her presence. Nothing more. She could not get intimate with a man she’d known less than twenty-four hours.



Could she?



What an insidiously tempting question. It got caught up in her brain, cycling through on a loop over and over.



“Do you think I want to hurt you?” he asked in a deep, silken tone. It glided over her senses, rumbling inside her, becoming part of her.



He opened his mind to her, letting her feel what he did. Another heady blast of lust slammed into her through their link, making Helen moan and clench her thighs together. He’d done it on purpose. She felt that, too. He wanted her to know how much he wanted her. As if the erection straining the front of his faded jeans wasn’t enough proof.



“Well?” he asked, letting his fingertips trail lightly over her mouth. “Do you think I want to hurt you?”



“Never.” She knew it on an instinctive, bone-deep level. Not only would he not hurt her, but he’d kill anyone who tried. She’d seen that, too—a brief glimpse of an honor-bound knight who’d given his vow.



“Then what else do you need to know, love? What else can I tell you or show you to get you to trust me? Open up to me?”



His hand continued its downward path over her jaw-line until his palm was open against her throat. She could feel how close his ring was to her necklace. Both parts of the luceria vibrated with the need to join together.



“I trust you,” she managed to say. It was true. She did. She hadn’t known him for a full day, but she trusted him as she had no other person. He’d risked his life for hers. He’d protected Miss Mabel. He’d made sure her elderly friends were fed when she wasn’t there to do it herself. That was enough proof for her that he was a good man.



“Then why did you back away? I can feel that you want me.”



She wanted him all right. More than she’d ever wanted any man in her life. That alone was a frightening thought.



“You don’t have to worry,” he told her in that darkly sinful voice. “I’ll take good care of you.”



He forced a mental image through the luceria, giving her no choice but to see it. She saw herself spread out naked on the bed, covered in a fine sheen of sweat. Her legs were splayed obscenely, his big hands holding her thighs wide. His dark head moved between them and she could almost feel his mouth on her, his tongue hot between her slick folds.



A wave of dizzying lust washed over her and she reached out to steady herself. Her palms pressed flat against his chest, the only stability in her spinning world.



Every leaf on his tattoo quivered at the contact of skin on skin and Drake sucked in a harsh breath. “If you keep touching me, I’m not going to give you a choice any longer.”



Yes. That was what she wanted. No choices. No decisions. No responsibilities. Only pleasure from a man who knew how to give it—enough pleasure to wash away all of the bad things in her life for just a little while. No death or blood or suffering. No fire. Just pleasure.



“Your wish is my command.” He shifted his hand so that ring and necklace finally connected, locking on to each other like magnets.



A sizzling stream of electricity zinged through her, making her back arch. Images slammed into her, one after another—a rapid-fire collage of all the things he wanted to do to her. Things she’d never considered, things she’d never even thought possible—kinky, wild things that left her quivering with a mixture of excitement and apprehension. It was too much. He wanted too much from her—things that would burn her alive.



Before she could voice her worry, his mouth covered hers in a breath-stealing kiss and she no longer cared if he wanted too much. She wanted to be the one to give it to him. The only one.



She welcomed his tongue into her mouth, welcomed the slippery advance and retreat that forced her to think of what was to come. His hand still circled her throat and she knew he could feel each desperate moan of need she made, each frantic heartbeat pounding under his palm.



The belt on her robe was no more than a fleeting nuisance. One quick tug and the tie opened for him. He pulled away from her mouth and held her by the throat against the door frame as he parted the robe and looked at her body. His hold was careful, but unbreakable, and she could do nothing to stop him from looking his fill.



Normally, under such close scrutiny, she would have thought about all her problem areas and all the physical flaws that were too many to name. But this was far from normal. His hot stare, the way his nostrils flared, and the deep stain of lust painted high on his cheeks were enough to drive any self-doubt from her mind. He looked at her like she was the sexiest thing he’d ever seen, like he’d die if he had to look away.



“So beautiful,” he growled out in a voice that had her toes curling into the carpet. “I can hardly wait to see you come.”



A whimper fell from her lips.



He held her still while he lowered his mouth to her breast. The very tip of his tongue reached out and flicked across her hardened nipple.



Helen gasped and her body arched toward him.



“Just like that, love. Show me what you like.”



She did. She used his example and pushed an image through their link, showing him what she wanted.



Drake groaned, making an almost animalistic sound of need. “Whatever you want, Helen. Anything you want.”



The damp heat of his mouth latched on to her, drawing her nipple deep into his mouth. Lightning streaked through her nerves, making her womb clench and her body grow slick.