On the Hunt (Sentinel Wars #3.5)(11)
Author: Gena Showalter

Again. She must appreciate strength as much as he did. He guessed he’d have to take her against the wall, as well. For her. Since she liked them. Would be a favor to her. Of course.

"Beautiful," she said on a wispy catch of breath.

"Yes," he said, his voice breaking.

Her gaze flittered to him. "Where are you taking me?"

"To my chamber. The walls are just as lovely there."

"Why does that matter? No, wait. Stop." Finally she tugged from his clasp, forcing him to come to a halt. There were guards posted at every door in the hallway—all Monstrea—but she paid them no heed. Or perhaps she hadn’t noticed them, too focused on the scenery and then Vasili. "My question."

His jaw tightened as he turned to her completely, allowing only a whisper of air between them.

He motioned to the closest guard with a tilt of his head. Her gaze followed, and she gasped. She even scrambled backward several steps before realizing what she’d done; she rooted her feet in place and withdrew a semiautomatic.

The guards reacted instantly, jolting into motion, meaning to take down the threat to their king.

Vasili froze them in place with only a thought, swiped the gun from Rose, and sheathed it at the back of his waist.

"She means no harm," he told the men. Then he released them from his mental hold and they stumbled over themselves in their efforts to slow their sudden, renewed momentum.

Every member of the royal family possessed an ability like his, though everyone’s was different.

His father had smoothed the harshest of emotions with a blink of his eyes. His mother had pushed images into other people’s minds. Jasha could listen to a conversation from hundreds of miles away—if he so wished. But his brother never intruded upon Vasili’s privacy, and Vasili never held his brother immobile. A courtesy to each other.

He wondered, now that Rose was wed to him, if she possessed a new ability. Or perhaps her ability to walk from one dimension to the other qualified.

"Leave us," he added.

With only the slightest show of hesitation, they marched away. And now, Vasili was alone with his Rose. As he’d dreamed for nearly a year. Unable to help himself, he crowded her, getting in her face and backing her into the wall. Why wait until they reached his room?

When she could go no farther, she flattened her hands on his chest. Warm, soft. But she didn’t push. His heart thundered to meet her touch as he breathed her in, all the floral sweetness of her.

Too long. He’d been without her for too long.

She gazed up at him, lashes long and black and gorgeous, and gulped. "Why do they defer to you?"

"Is that your question?" He leaned down and nuzzled her neck, not quite touching but close enough to tease. "A question you risked your life to ask?"

"No."

He answered anyway. "I’m their king."

A gasp. "I think the meaning of what you just said was lost in translation. You’re a king?"

What was so hard to believe about that? He exuded power, just as a king should.

"Never mind," she said as if she didn’t care. "Can I bring someone here?"

Every muscle in his body locked down on bones. He cupped her chin, lifting her head so that he could glare into her eyes. "Who do you want to bring?" If she named a man, he would find a way to reach the bastard. Tear him from limb to limb.

"My parents."

Vasili relaxed. "No. You can’t. They’ll die. Only Walkers can cross. Why do you want to bring them, anyway?" And why did he suddenly want to meet them? To see the man and woman who had created her?

She traced the collar of his shirt. "I no longer have any kind of relationship with them, and I miss them. I just thought that if I proved myself to them, they would know I’m not crazy or on drugs and . . . I don’t know . . . like me again."

His skin tingled where she stroked. "You can’t tell anyone what you can do, Rose. It’s dangerous for you. For them."

"But I’m . . . lonely."

He didn’t like the thought of her alone and sad, and now wanted to meet her parents for an entirely different reason. To destroy them for causing her pain. "Is that how Walkers are treated in your world? With disbelief?"

"Yes. We’re considered crazy. Locked away."

"You were locked away?" The words lashed from him.

"Only for a little while."

Rage hammered through him. "If that ever happens again, come to me. Immediately." Calm.

She’s here; she’s fine. Desire returned, blending with the declining rage. "Now, is this the only reason you came to see me early?" he asked silkily.

"No." Defiance suddenly flashed up at him. "I wanted to tell you how much I hate you."

"You hate me?" Anymore, females ran from him. With good reason. He had a fierce, frightening temper and held life and death in his hands. Still Rose clashed with him, unconcerned. Oh, yes, he felt pride. "Prove it," he said in that same silky tone.

She shivered. "You’ve threatened me, fought me—I’m better now, by the way, and will kick your ass if we spar—and cursed me. I should hate you."

He settled his big hands on her hips, allowing the tips of his fingers to slide under her shirt. More skin, more warmth and softness. "I taught you to fight, to speak properly. And you’ve been practicing, haven’t you, Rose?"

A grumble.

Because deep down she knew she belonged here. "I know you have."

"Did you hear nothing else I said?" she demanded.

He sighed. "Cursed you how?"

"To suffer." Accusing.

To ache, she meant. "But I can ease your . . . pain." Oh, the ideas pouring through his head . . . the many ways to sate her. He’d start with her br**sts, tonguing her ni**les, and work his way down. But not yet. First, he’d gentle her. He wanted no resistance when the passion claimed them.

"Did anyone hurt you during your training?"

A tremor, a slight arch of those hips, closing the distance. "Of course." Breathless.

Another inch and her core would brush his throbbing cock. Was she as eager as he? "Bring them here."

"But that will kill. . ." Slowly she grinned. "Why, Vasili. I think you’re a romantic at heart, wanting to slay my dragons."

"Romantic, no. Desperate for you, yes."

She licked her lips. "I thought I was too young for you."

"That was when you were a mere nineteen."

"My birthday isn’t for another week. I’m not officially twenty."

"Did I fail to mention we celebrate early here? Also, I have a present for you."