Desire Me (31 page)

“Now,” he said firmly. He placed himself on top of her, her body plush and warm beneath him.

He intertwined his fingers with her own, pressing her arms to the bed as he slowly entered her. Her knees came up, and she
wrapped her legs around his back, clasping her feet and pulling him even deeper inside. Still he held her down and moved in
and out, grinding against her.

Her nails dug into his back, and her breathing became tighter and shorter. Her release was very near. She teetered right on
the edge, so he moved deeper and deeper and increased his speed.

Her body rocked with pleasure.

His own release wasn’t too far behind. His abdomen tightened as wave after wave shot through him. Then he collapsed on top
of her.

They lay in comfortable silence for several moments, and for the first time in so very long, Sabine actually felt at peace.
A sharp contrast to the realities around her—the prophecy, the quest, the Chosen One. Yet in this moment, lying in Max’s arms,
it seemed as if all would be well. She knew it was the worst sort of deception, the kind you weave yourself. It was what her
mother had done, ignoring the truth around her, and in the end she’d paid the ultimate price.

She snuggled deeper into his side, knowing tomorrow would be a different day, and this intimacy they were enjoying would be
shattered. She could not have a lover,
especially not someone who stirred her soul so. She could easily fall in love with
Max, and that terrified her because she knew love, in the end, only brought pain. The thought seemed to paralyze her heart,
and for a fleeting second, she would have sworn it stopped beating.

“Why have you not married?” she asked him. She needed conversation to empty her head of those thoughts.

“I am not the marrying sort,” he said.

“So you’ve settled yourself on being a bachelor?”

“Something like that.”

She absently ran her fingers against the hairs curling across his torso. “But what of your duty to produce an heir?” she asked.
“Without an heir, your name will die out.”

“There are enough bastards, legitimate and otherwise, in the world without me adding to them.” He shrugged. “If the name dies
out, so be it. There’s nothing inherently magical or important about my family name.”

“What if your own family had had that attitude? Then you would not exist. Shouldn’t that count for something?” She could not
understand a man who could so passionately commit to his quest for Atlantis, yet felt no pull of familial duty. Her entire
life was about familial obligation; it was all she knew. How could she be drawn to a man who was so foreign to everything
she understood?

“It should, but it doesn’t.” He rolled over to face her, and his expression was stern, all lines and contours, but he placed
his hand on her hip and his touch was gentle. “My parents got married young and successfully had three children right away.
One girl after another. Not exactly what a marquess wants for his family name, but at
least my sisters presented opportunities
to marry well and bring more money and prestige to the family.”

Sabine said nothing, simply allowed him to talk and rub his hand down her hip. When he wasn’t using his charming façade, there
was a man beneath—a man with emotions and scars, and in this moment she was getting a glimpse. Like a hunter in a deer’s path,
she didn’t dare move and risk spooking him.

“Five years after my last sister was born, my brother came along. Finally the heir,” he said with much formality. “The family
was complete.” His eyes darkened, and his hand on her hip stilled. “Then another three years, and it was my turn. The leftover
child—they already had their heir—and I would never bring them money as my sisters would, instead I would cost them. They
had to send me to school. Pay for me to marry.”

He said nothing more for several moments. So she ventured, “You once told me you were alone, that you had no family. What
happened to all of them?”

“Our family estate in Devonshire was destroyed in a fire. It was at night, while everyone slept. They were all inside,” he
said.

“And where were you?” she asked.

“I was off digging in a cave looking for an ancient map.” He smiled ruefully. “I was trying to do something, anything that
would garner their attention…” His voice trailed off.

“How old were you?” she asked quietly.

“Seventeen. We lost everything.” He laughed, though his chuckle held no humor. “All but that singed spear I keep in my office.
Everything else I have, I built.”

A boy, not yet quite a man, and he had come home with such hopes only to discover his entire family had perished.
On top of
that, he’d inherited a title and duties he’d never asked for. But instead of forging ahead and embracing his duties, he’d
gone in the opposite direction—tried to sever all ties he had with anyone so that child he’d been would never again experience
pain and loss.

She knew a little about that sort of thing.

H
e hadn’t told many people that story before and knew he had probably revealed more than he had wanted. Yet he’d felt compelled
to share it with her. So often he smiled or quipped and shifted the subject away from the uncomfortable parts of his life.
But she’d asked as if she truly cared, as if she’d wanted to know the man he was beneath the legend hunter.

She looked up as if she had an additional question.

He might not regret sharing what he’d just told her, but he was done opening old wounds for the evening. Sabine had her own
secrets that she still had yet to reveal to him. She hadn’t trusted him, not truly. Damned if that didn’t infuriate him.

“Your mother was a guardian,” Max said before she could speak.

She sat, clutching the sheet to her chest and looking at him, her expression one of great surprise. “How did you—”

“Those letters we found in Phinneas’s house. I’ve been
reading through all of them. I’ve found the letters from Phinneas the
most helpful, but a few of Agnes’s were useful, too,” he said.

She frowned. “But those were simply love letters,” she said softly. “I’ve read through most of them, and while I found their
love story intriguing, there was nothing helpful. And I don’t recall seeing anything that stated that my mother was a guardian.”

He propped himself on one elbow. “True, but they spoke of other things. Hidden within the letters. I discovered their code.
In more than one, your aunt mentions her eldest sister and how the village was scandalized when she was revealed as the guardian.”

“The first female guardian my people had ever had,” Sabine said, obviously resigned to no longer denying the truth.

“At first, I thought she meant Lydia, but in another letter she used her name,” he said.

“Isadora,” Sabine supplied. “What code?” She frowned. “Agnes mentioned nothing of a secret code. I read them only as love
letters.”

“Oh, they are love letters,” he said. “But I’m coming to realize that when it comes to Atlantis, things are not always what
they appear. There was more, plainly hidden.”

“She didn’t tell me,” Sabine said again.

“She was probably trying to protect you. She knew I’d be reading them.” He tucked a stray curl behind her ear. “Your mother,
what happened to her?”

“She was weak and an utter fool.” There was no denying Sabine’s anger in those short words. “She did not take her duties as
guardian seriously. It is the guardians’ duty to pass on their ways to their successors. In my mother’s
case, that was me,
her only child. Historically the guardianship passed through the bloodlines, even though there is a ceremony to name a new
one. When her father died, the people in our village begged the elders to change the ceremony. Never before had a woman been
named guardian. But she came forward and pled her case, promised to fulfill her duties just as a man would, and the ceremony
confirmed her.

“And initially she did just as she’d vowed. She married, they had me, and she was as good a Healer as our village had seen.
She trained me every day, too. And then my father fell ill.” She shook her head. “It changed everything. My mother adored
my father, they adored each other, and his illness rocked her to her core. She prepared his treatment, but she did something
wrong, something horribly wrong. Within a day, he was gone. Not even a year later, she had died, too. I was thirteen.”

Her tone was etched with bitterness and anger and spoke of the hurt child she’d once been. He was almost sorry he’d pressed
the issue. But he’d shared truths about his family he’d never told anyone else. And so far Sabine hadn’t stood to leave. “How
did she die?” he ventured.

“A guardian must consume a small portion of the elixir every day. It is part of a guardian’s duty and strengthens the connection
with the elixir, with our homeland.” Sabine shook her head. She was no longer looking at him. Instead she stared at the sheet
wrapped around her. “She just stopped. Wouldn’t take a drop. Eventually her body succumbed, and she died.”

“And you’ve been with your aunts ever since?”

“Yes. They were there all along, trying to assist my mother when things started to go badly, but she was intent on destroying
herself.”

“What about other people? Can they directly ingest the elixir? Or can it only be used on injuries?”

“It’s far too dangerous for others to consume except in extremely small quantities, and only in dire emergencies. It is very
dangerous.” She paused for a moment. “Our people are careful with the elixir. We don’t want history to repeat itself.”

He’d have to be certain to give Marcus all of these warnings when he brought the sample to him for testing. Marcus would respect
the boundaries, but Max wouldn’t want word to get out about the elixir. That kind of power would be too tempting to resist
for any number of criminals.

Max was quiet, thinking of all she had said and about how they both had lost their families at a young age. He could understand
the anger she had for her mother. Sabine still viewed her mother’s death through a child’s eyes. Grief could distort reality.
But so much of what she’d said tonight and the last few days came together for him. She never said “us” or “I,” instead she
always used “they” as if she were not part of the guardians.

“You told me you were the third guardian,” he said softly.

Sabine pulled the sheet up to her chin, but said nothing. Nevertheless, he could see the truth in her expression. The moment
of surprise before she carefully capped her emotions. He’d guessed correctly.

Still she was reluctant. “Your cards are showing,” he chided her. “You’ve lost the hand. Why won’t you simply tell me the
truth? You owe me that much.”

“Why?” Her amber-colored eyes sparked with indignation. “Why do I owe you anything?”

Her words stung. How could she ask such a thing? After all they’d been through together. After he’d taken
her to bed. Not
once, but several times. And here she was, treating him as nothing more than hired help.

He shook his head in frustration. “Without me, you wouldn’t have had access to the full prophecy. Not to mention, I’ve offered
protection to you and your aunts. And I’ve assisted you in deciphering the clues.” He raked his fingers through his hair.

“Of course. I didn’t mean to seem ungrateful,” she said.

“This isn’t about gratitude.” He propelled himself from the bed, reaching for the pants he’d discarded on the floor in his
earlier passion. “You don’t trust me. And you never have.”

“It’s not that,” she said.

“Yes, actually it is,” he said, knowing his anger was evident in his tone. But he didn’t care. Yes, he was angry. He’d done
everything right to deserve her trust, yet she had lied to him.

He shoved his feet into the legs of his pants. He shouldn’t even give a damn about her bloody secret. She was a pastime, nothing
more. He wouldn’t make the mistake of forgetting that again.

No, he didn’t want harm to come to her, but that didn’t mean that he would forsake his own ambitions simply because of a secret
she wanted to keep.

“Just tell me the truth, Sabine. I already know, but I want to hear you say it.” His voice sounded weary to his own ears.
Earlier, he’d been ready to take her again, his body heavy with desire. But now ice ran through his veins, cooling his need.

Why did he care so much whether she was honest with him?

He simply could not abide dishonesty. That’s all it was.
He needed all the facts when he was in the middle of a situation.

“No,” she said fiercely. “Does that make you happy? I am not the guardian.”

“It’s Agnes, isn’t it?” he asked.

She took a shaky breath, then nodded.

“But what of your being your mother’s heir? Shouldn’t you have been the next in line?” he asked.

“Yes, but the ceremony named Agnes as guardian.”

“You were a child at the time.”

“That wouldn’t matter. Some had been named guardian at even younger ages. The fact of the matter was that I was not chosen.
Whether that’s because of my mother’s failure or some deficiency in me, I do not know. I only know that I was not worthy to
bear the duties of the guardian.”