On the Hunt

"Would you like to try to find the gadget?" he asked.

"I think I can feel it. It's faint, but if I concentrate, I might be able to get a stronger impression of its location."

"You do that. The sooner we find it, the sooner I can take you home."

Neal hadn't come on to her. They were alone together in that cozy house, in front of a roaring fire while the wind blew snow all around them, insulating them from the real world. It was the perfect setup for romance and yet Neal hadn't taken advantage of that.

Part of her was disappointed. Her body was humming with a frenetic energy—an achy need to run her hands over him and let him do the same to her. The saner part of her was relieved. Too much had happened tonight and she was having trouble digesting it all.

Neal was a member of an ancient race. So was she. From what he said, they were destined to be partners in a war against evil monsters—ones she didn't even know existed outside of her dusty books.

And yet, as hard as all that was to believe, what she really had trouble believing was the part where he needed her. He was a big, strong, strapping warrior. He didn't appear to need anyone. If she hadn't felt that need through the luceria, she still wouldn't believe it.

He wanted her, and not just for the night. The impressions she got through their swiftly growing connection were ones of permanence. Forever. He wasn't afraid of commitment, like most men she knew. He craved it.

Not that she knew him well enough to agree to that kind of relationship. For now, she was content to stay with him, see how things went. He might not appreciate her caution, but that was too bad. Caution was all he was going to get.

For now.

The thought whispered in her head, summoning images of the two of them together, making love. She could almost feel the power of his big body moving over hers, driving them both higher.

He'd be a demanding lover. She could tell that by his personality. But it was his grace that made her toes curl in longing. A man with that smooth kind of power would drive her crazy. Neal would take her to places she'd never been with a man before, and deep down, she wanted that more than she'd ever wanted any ancient trinket.

Neal came back out of the kitchen. He stopped dead in his tracks, staring at her. His jaw was tight and she could see tension straining his body. He pulled in a couple of deep breaths before he managed to speak.

"I heard that," he whispered.

"What?"

"Your thoughts. The things you'd like me to do to you."

She'd been getting brief flashes from his thoughts since putting on the luceria, but had brushed it off as her imagination. The things she'd felt coming from him couldn't be real. No man had ever wanted her like Neal did.

The proof of that want was straining the front of his worn jeans, making her mouth water.

He took a measured step forward. Viviana didn't move. She didn't want to encourage him to do something he wasn't ready for, and yet the thought of him backing away left a deep ache in her chest.

"I'm more than ready," he told her. "You're the one with questions about the two of us. Not me. I already know how I want it to end."

"How?" she asked before she could stop herself.

"I want us to love each other. To be happy together. To stand side by side and fight the Synestryn. Forever."

"Forever is a long time."

"Only when you're alone and unhappy."

Like she had been her whole life. Mother had always loved her, but Viviana had never truly fit in elsewhere. She wasn't an outcast, but she often thought that was due to her wealth. People would do a lot to overlook the flaws in others when there was money involved.

She didn't want to be included for her money or her status. She wanted to be wanted for herself.

Neal was offering that to her, and doing so as if he had no idea how precious the gift was.

He held out his hand. The iridescent ring shimmered as it grew closer to her, swirling with the colors of parchment and ancient bronze. "I understand that this is all fast for you, but for me, it's something I've been thinking about for centuries. We can be good together. All you have to do is trust me."

Viviana swallowed. So much had happened tonight. Too much. And yet there wasn't a place on earth she'd rather be than right here. With him.

He called to her on some deep level she'd never even known existed. It was as if she were recognizing a long-lost part of herself.

Whatever this thing was between them, it had a magic all its own, and that alone was too alluring for Viviana to resist.

She put her hand in his and a slow, hot smile curved his mouth a second before he kissed her.

Heat bloomed inside her at his touch, swelling until she was consumed by it. His hands slid over her back, pulling her close enough to feel the hard length of his erection. That empty ache inside her clamored to be filled, and Viviana was no longer willing to ignore it.

"I want you," she told him.

A rough groan vibrated his chest. "I want you, too, but we can't. I have to be careful. If we get too close . . ." He didn't finish what he was saying, but his body shook with tension.

Viviana couldn't resist trying to comfort him. She stroked his arms and petted his chest, feeling his muscles tighten beneath her palms.

He closed his eyes as if seeking self-control and his fingers clenched against her hips. She laid He closed his eyes as if seeking self-control and his fingers clenched against her hips. She laid her head on his shoulder, and she swore she could hear the creak of swaying branches beneath his shirt. The scent of his skin was intoxicating, and despite his hesitance, she couldn't find the strength to back away.

Heated images flittered through her mind, and the rougher edges told her they were coming from Neal. She was naked, laid out for his visual enjoyment. Her hair was loose, shimmering around her head. Her nipples were tight, and her skin seemed to glow. His dark hand was splayed against her chest, and the matching parts of the luceria throbbed in time with each other.

The image shifted. A red wash covered them, and Neal's body was gleaming with sweat as he moved over her, his muscles bunching powerfully with each gliding move. It wasn't real. It was only a vision in her head, but the effect it had on her was much more than mere imagination.

She was hot, aching. Her clothes were suddenly too tight and itchy. She needed to peel them away and rub herself against Neal, feeling his firm, smooth skin against her own. Maybe if she got him naked, he'd give in and make love to her.

She desperately needed that, needed the release only he could give.

Neal let out the groan of a man who knew he'd been bested. "I can't deny you anything, sweetheart. I'll make you come, but we're going to do it my way."

Chapter Seven

Neal was playing a dangerous game here. Already they were bonding faster than he thought possible. Once the swirling colors in the luceria settled, his life was in her hands. For now, once her promise to him was fulfilled, they could go their separate ways, but if the colors solidified and their connection was complete, then if she left him, he'd die.

He had to be careful, slow down the bonding process as much as possible. As much as he loved the idea of the two of them together, he didn't want to tie her to him with guilt. He refused to allow her to stay with him because he was dead without her. That wasn't fair to either of them.

So he'd find the strength to resist taking her and thereby speeding up the process. He'd give her what she so clearly needed—he refused to let her suffer—but he'd do it with his jeans firmly in place.

She kissed her way up his throat and over his jaw. Her strong grip on his head forced him to bend down so she could kiss him properly. Her soft mouth opened over his, and her hot tongue slid inside, claiming the space for her own.

Neal stifled a groan and went to work like a man on a mission. The sooner he got her off, the better. He didn't know how long he could resist taking what she so clearly wanted to give.

He wasted no time undoing all the fussy little buttons down the front of her blouse. White lace cupped her breasts, but did nothing to hide her stiff nipples. He bent his head and suckled her through the delicate fabric while he made quick work of the hooks on her bra.

Her soft sound of pleasure filled the air, and her fingers speared through his hair, holding him in place.

Her skirt took only seconds to undo and it slithered down her thighs. Her soft lace panties followed in her skirt's wake, leaving her wearing only her stockings. Those were definitely staying on.

He pulled the bra from her arms and fought her grip long enough to pull back and get a good look.

Viviana was breathtaking. Sweet, slender curves. Gentle shadows cast by the firelight. Delicate bones, womanly hollows. Every inch of her was perfect.

He'd never wanted anything in his life as much as he wanted her right now.

His blood was pounding through his body, demanding that he stake a claim. He could smellher arousal, see the flush of lust darkening her skin. She wanted it as much as he did.

He stared for so long, he began to feel her pull away, her heat evaporating into an awkward kind of shyness.

She covered her breasts with one arm, her mound with her hand. Hiding herself from him.

A primal anger rose up in him so strong and fast he couldn't control it. He took an aggressive step forward, pushing her back against the couch. She stumbled, flailing her arms to catch her balance.

Neal grabbed her arms, easing her down. He held them away from her body, letting the satisfaction of seeing her again quiet that primal beast. "Don't hide from me," he managed to grate out. "Not ever."

He stripped off his shirt, and then pressed her back against the seat, feeling the velvet rub of her sweet little nipples on his skin.

Viviana let out a soft gasp and dug her nails into his back.

Heat and need flared inside him, blinding him for a moment. But he was touching her skin, and that was enough for now. He'd look at her again when he had her spread out so he could feast on her and make her come with his mouth. He'd take his time looking, enjoying the way perspiration beaded on her skin, and the way she writhed as he held her hips in place.