Anew: Book Three: Entwined (9 page)

Lifting my head, I gaze down at
her. Her cheeks are flushed, her lips swollen and moist. As I watch, her eyes
flutter open.

Softly, in a breath of sound, she
murmurs, “What’s wrong, Ian? You were gone for a moment and now... Where were
you?”

I’m shaking my head before she
finishes. I won’t bring that ugliness into our lives. But at the same time, I
can’t help but acknowledge how attuned she is to me. That’s both good and bad.
I don’t want her thinking about anything except this moment, the two of us in
the here and now.

“Doesn’t matter,” I murmur and kiss
her again, more gently now but still giving vent to a fraction of the roaring
hunger that’s surging up from soul deep inside me. Her mouth is warm, soft,
yielding. She’s not denying me anything.

My throat tightens as I move my
mouth over the curve of her chin, biting just a little, before finding the
hollow at the base of her throat. She moans as I suck her there but I don’t
linger. My need to taste her is overwhelming.

I slide down her body, my mouth
tracing a line from between her breasts to her naval and beyond. When I settle
on my knees in front of her, she gasps and runs her fingers through my hair,
holding on to me as though her life depends on it.

I love the little arrow of hair
that arches down her pubic bone, stopping just short of her slit. My nose
nuzzles in it, inhaling the scent of her, jasmine and musk, sweetness and
arousal, pure Amelia.

The water sprays over my back as I
use my thumbs to part the lips of her sex, spreading her. Her clit is pink,
swollen, delectable. I want to suck it into my mouth, tongue her fiercely, and
make her come hard and fast. But I also want more.

Above me, she moans, “Oh, god, Ian…!”

I don’t need any encouragement but
she’s provided it all the same. I shift slightly and urge her legs a little
further apart.

“Hold onto me,” I murmur and swirl
my tongue around her opening. Her hands tighten, pulling my hair. The small
sting of pain helps center me.

Tongue fucking Amelia is one of my
favorite pastimes. I indulge in it fully now, persisting until her gorgeous
legs are shaking and she’s gasping my name again. Only then do I push her
gently back against the wall of the shower and give her clit the attention it
deserves.

A few hard, fast swirls of my
tongue bearing down on her is all it takes. She comes in a rush, gasping,
sobbing as I refuse to relent but drive her higher and higher. I want her to
feel it all, everything she possibly can without my actually being inside her. Before
I’m done, she’ll fucking forget that there’s any world apart from what I can
make her feel.

Her legs give way. I catch her
before she can fall and stand with her in my arms. “It’s all right,
sweetheart,” I murmur as she shudders against me, gasping for breath, and
burrows her head into my shoulder. Outside the shower, I set her on her feet
carefully and keep hold of her as I grab a soft white bath sheet, wrapping it
around her. Gently, I ease her onto an upholstered bench, grab a smaller towel
and loop it around my hips. It doesn’t do much to conceal my raging hard-on but
it does help me maintain some measure of control.

“I’m going to dry your hair,” I
say. “All right?”

Her eyes meet mine in the mirror in
front of us. Her pupils are dilated from the after effects of the pleasure I’ve
given her but I see questions in them as well. Slowly, she nods.

I take my time, pressing the water
from each chestnut strand. Her head falls back as she groans with contentment. The
pressure against my groin has me gritting my teeth but I persevere. When her
hair is no more than mildly damp, I find a brush and ease it through the wild
tangle of curls. I’ve never done this for a woman before but it feels natural
with Amelia. There isn’t anything I wouldn’t do for her.

Our eyes meet again in the mirror.
I manage to smile even though it hurts.

Control. Nothing is more important
than that.

“Would you like to have dinner
now?” I ask.

I don’t know if I’m trying to
reassure myself or her that I’ve still got it together but to my infinite
relief, she shoots me a look that suggests she’s seriously considering calling
Rosen. Before I can process what’s happening, she’s standing in front of me,
the tips of her fingers gently stroking down my biceps and forearms until they
curl loosely around my wrists.

Leaning closer, holding me, she
brushes my ear lobe with her lips and murmurs, “Later. First, I want you to
come inside me.”

Amelia

H
e’s torturing me. I’m reasonably sure that’s not what
Ian intends but it’s the effect all the same.

I know this because a tiny part of
my mind is still working. The rest is drowning under the waves of pleasure he’s
unleashed with his too-skillful hands and mouth, his body, his heat, all of him
except what I told him I wanted.

His cock he’s withheld and I’m
damned if I’ll beg for it again.

I don’t know for certain how or why
this contest of wills has exploded between us only that it has to do with Ian
proving to me that he can maintain control while I, heaven help me, am
desperate for him to lose it.

And getting more so by the moment.

Writhing on the bed, panting, I
moan, “Please…!”

Oh, no! I wasn’t going to say that.

He lifts his head from the apex of
my thighs and grins wolfishly up the length of my naked, straining body.
“Please what, sweetheart?”

I shut my mouth stubbornly. I’m not
going to say another word. He can just--

“Oooh, Ian,
please
!”

I’m so close--again--trembling on
the edge of what is building toward a ferocious orgasm. After the one in the
shower, I’m not sure that I can endure it.

Please stop. That’s all I have to say
and he’ll do it. I’m certain of that.

I press my lips tightly together,
more resolved than ever not to make another sound.

He grins again and returns to his
ruthless ministrations, focused on the exquisitely primed pearl of sensation
that swells with each flick of his tongue. Another wave of pleasure seizes me.
My back arches as I cry out. I’m going to shatter.

I’m caught in a cascade of
sensation and emotion that overwhelms me. And Ian knows it. He moves up my body
until he is looming over me, big and hard and utterly male.

Holding his weight on one powerful
arm, he rubs his cock along my engorged slit until it glistens with my juices.
“Is this what you want, babe?”

His voice is husky with dark
undertones that resonate deep inside me. I have just enough control left to
reach down and cover his hand with mine. “Oh, yes,” I whisper. “So much.”

Together, we guide him just the
first inch or so into me. My body stretches and opens to welcome him. My hand
falls away. I can’t do anything more than gaze up at him, my breath coming in
shallow gasps.

He takes hold of both my hips and
without breaking eye contact, thrusts hard and deep into me. I cry out, every
cell of my being quivering as the rush to ecstasy becomes remorseless.

Beyond the open sliding doors of
the bedroom, the sun is setting in a blaze of crimson and gold. The light
spreads across the bed, casting the hard planes of Ian’s face in high relief. I
see him at that moment, a man and more. The embodiment of strength and will,
yet also achingly vulnerable. The dark prince who awakened me, the lover who
challenges me, the future I want more than my next breath. He is my love, my
life.

On the cusp of that thought, my
body tightens around him, drawing him even deeper. The sense of at once
possessing and being so utterly possessed pushes me over the brink. I come
fiercely and helplessly, soaring into an explosion of sensation.

In every part of my being, I feel
his own release as he holds fast to me. The sound of my name on his lips--a
litany, a prayer--follows me into sudden, dreamless sleep.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

When I awake
some unknown time later, Ian is asleep beside me. I’m tucked against him, his
arm thrown over me just below my breasts, one powerful thigh resting across my
legs. I smile at the thought that even in sleep, he’s holding on to me.

Moonlight spills
across the room, a silver ribbon extending from sky to sea to us as we float on
our bed. I look at his beloved features, softened now in repose, and feel a
deep well of contentment expanding within me, as powerful in its own way as the
explosive pleasure I experienced earlier.

Hardly aware
that I’m doing so, I reach out and gently trace the still fresh scar on his
side. A tremor runs through me as I consider how close I came to losing him. To
my dismay, my eyes fill with tears.

As though alert
to my distress, Ian stirs. Still half in the grip of sleep that he must
desperately need, he focuses on me. “What’s wrong?” he murmurs.

I hear the
thread of concern in his voice and answer quickly. “Nothing. I was just thinking
about you…what happened--” I break off, unwilling to burden him with my
distress.

“Don’t,” he says
and sits up, gathering me to him so that my head is resting on his broad chest.
The strong, regular beat of his heart soothes me.

“Don’t think
about that.” He strokes my back. “It’s over and done with. I’m fine.”

Of course, he
would say that. I don’t even try to hide my skepticism. “Did you talk with the
doctor?” I ask.

He sighs but
with a hint of amusement. I don’t think he minds overly much that I’m concerned
for him.

“I did,” he
says. “We could try to recover the memories that I’ve lost with an ocular probe
or they might return naturally. I’d prefer the latter but there’s no guarantee
that it will happen.”

He shifts
slightly so that he is looking down at me. “There is another solution.”

“I could just
tell you?”

He nods. “Is
there any particular reason why you haven’t already?”

It’s a fair
question yet I hesitate to answer it. Memory is a fraught subject for me. I
cherish so many of those that I’ve made for myself since awakening. But my
memories of the time before haunt me. I despise their dark, lurking presence
even as I sense that the fact that I possess them is important in some way that
I haven’t yet examined.

Finally, I say,
“I’m being selfish. An ocular probe sounds horrible and I don’t want you to be
distracted by trying to remember. It isn’t even that big a deal.” That’s a lie;
it is to me. I’m just afraid that it won’t be to him.

He touches a
finger gently to my lips, hushing me. “You could have told me days ago but you
didn’t. Why not?”

I hesitate but I
can’t give this man anything less than the truth. “Because I wanted it to come
from inside you but that doesn’t matter now. You have enough to deal with--”

“Nothing is more
important than what matters to you and this clearly does.” His hand cups the
back of my head, drawing me to him. His breath is warm and caressing against
the curve of my cheek.

“You’re taking a
huge chance on me, Amelia. I’m profoundly grateful for it even if I don’t
understand why you’re doing it. I’ll try to though, I promise. Whatever you
think is inside me, I want to be worthy of it. For both our sakes.”

Events must be
catching up with me because I’m definitely being overly emotional. Tears are
threatening again when I’m saved by the most prosaic of events. My stomach rumbles,
loud and querulously.

I press a hand
to my middle in a futile effort to silence my body’s demand for more mundane sustenance.

Ian laughs. With
a teasing gleam in his eyes, he rises from the bed and gazes down at me.
Looking well pleased with himself, he says, “Satisfy one appetite and another
pops up.”

Distracted by
the sight of him, I momentarily forget everything else. My tongue traces the
seam of my lips as I imagine them following the arrow of hair from his naval to
his groin where his cock is already stirring and then--

His gaze
darkens. “Come,” he says gruffly and holds out his hand to me. “Let’s get you
fed.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~

I make sushi by
moonlight and the soft glow of the lanterns that Ian lit on the terrace while I
gathered up ingredients and brought them from the kitchen. In deference to the
cooling ocean breeze, I’ve put on one of the kimonos I found in his closet,
which he informs me is now ours. He’s pulled on a pair of cut-offs and a
T-shirt that does nothing to disguise the hard musculature of his torso
tapering to lean hips and powerful legs.

I can’t stop
looking at him. Remarkably given the distraction he presents, I manage not to
cut myself producing paper thin slices of fresh tuna and yellow tail. I don’t
even mangle the rolls of seaweed sheets, rice, and seafood laced with wasabi.

Meanwhile, Ian
pours sake into two small porcelain cups and hands me one. Raising his, he says
softly, “Banzai.”

I take a sip of
the savory, slightly sweet rice wine and decide that although it’s different
from anything else I’ve had, it could grow on me. “What does that word mean?” I
ask.

“Live ten
thousand years.”

I shudder at the
thought. Not that I’m any fan of death, far from it. But to exist for so long
within the same boundaries and limitations seems like a form of imprisonment,
not all too different from what I remember only too well.

“Why would
anyone want to do that?”

He smiles at my
reaction. “It’s not meant literally. It’s just intended as a wish for long life
in general but especially for the emperor. Really it’s the hope for peace and
stability.”

I look at him over
the rim of my cup. “Is that what you hope for?”

Ian shrugs. “I
don’t wish for what isn’t attainable. Struggle and change are the natural human
condition. We evolve or we die.”

Night-blooming
jasmine scents the air. I can hear the rhythmic wash of the surf along the
ocean-side beach. In the lagoon before us, something phosphorescent ripples.
The night itself defies dark thoughts yet they intrude all the same.

“But if some
people have their way,” I murmur, “the natural course of evolution will be
perverted for the benefit of just a select few.”

“You’re speaking
of Davos.”

 “We haven’t,” I
say softly. “Spoken of him that is, at least not very much.”

Ian refills both
our sake cups. He lifts his and, rather than taking a sip, knocks it back.
Setting the empty cup on the table, he says, “He’s probably alive, but I think
you already know that.”

I do but hearing
him affirm it sends a shudder through me. I still remember Davos’ last words,
hurled at us with such venom.
You have no idea what you’ve unleashed.
Did he mean the attack on Ian that followed such a short time later and which
was clearly preplanned? Or did he have a more extensive plot in mind?

“I saw him go into
the water and be swept away.” I say. “He should have drowned but I can’t shake
the sense that he had other intentions.”

“Whatever they
are, we’ll find him. He won’t escape again.”

I could ask what
will happen when Ian does find Davos but I already know. It’s there in his
eyes. Alive, walking the earth, plotting and scheming, the silver-haired
sociopath is a dead man. He just doesn’t know it yet.

But he’s far too
intelligent not to realize that Ian will be coming after him. He may even be
counting on it. The thought chills me.

“He’ll be
prepared for you,” I say.

Ian shrugs. His
gaze is suddenly hard, cold, and merciless. “He doesn’t know what I’m capable
of.”

“If you’re
trying to frighten me, you can spare yourself the trouble. I don’t care what
happens to Davos so long as you don’t come to any harm.”

Before he can
respond, a sudden, high-pitched shriek shatters the stillness. The hairs rise
on the back of my neck. I all but jump out of my chair.

“Easy,” Ian says
with a laugh. “That’s just a kakapo. Remember, I told you they’re nocturnal.
Sounds like that one’s looking to mate.”

He shoots me a
look that goes from assessing to hot in a nanosecond and adds, “You’re more on
edge than I’d expect. Perhaps we should go back inside.”

As tempting as
the thought is, I refuse to be diverted. Shaking my head, I say, “I’m serious,
Ian. When you were wounded, lying there in the street, I--”

How to describe
the sense of desolation and terror that gripped me? And why burden him with it?

“I’ve never known
a feeling like that,” I say simply. “I’ll do anything to avoid experiencing it
again.”

He reaches out
and takes my hand. His thumb strokes my palm gently as he says, “How do you
think I felt when I walked into the club and saw you? I’ve never been so afraid
in my life. If I hadn’t been able to get you out of there--”

His eyes darken.
Gazing into them, I let myself see for the first time the true depth of the
fear that he felt for me. The realization that I make him so vulnerable is as
humbling as it is concerning.

I’m relieved
when he says, “Let’s forget about Davos for now, all right?”

“Yes, fine.”
More than happy to change the subject, I don’t think twice before I say, “Did
Takashi tell you? I’m going to be taking a martial arts class.”

Ian’s face
tightens. Too late I remember that he offered to teach me himself.