DarykCraving (3 page)

When he planted his hands on his hips, chest muscles flexed
and bunched under a sprinkling of dark hair that trailed down to rippling
stomach muscles. Hair arrowed toward his waistband and disappeared. Her lips
parted, but she couldn’t think of a thing to say. Even the bandage that covered
his ribs couldn’t detract from his impressive build. He was beautiful. No. He
was so amazingly compelling that her entire body reacted. Something she never
expected to feel again in her life stirred low in her belly. A hot yearning
blossomed to life. With that sensation came a spark of hope. Perhaps… Just
perhaps…

No. She was damaged. Ruined for all other men. None would
want her. And she wanted none of them.

He walked toward her, and that’s when she saw more than
concern in his eyes. Curiosity and perhaps even embarrassment filled his face.

“Your back.” She couldn’t hold back the words as he took a
couple of steps toward her. “What happened?”

He stopped a fair distance from her. He shoved a hand
through his hair and it tumbled across his shoulders. “I didn’t mean for you to
see it.”

“Why?”

“Because I am…” He drew in a slow breath. “How do I explain
this?” Pain flickered in his eyes. “Remember when I was fifteen and a madman
held me for ransom?”

“Oh Draconus. Yes. I was… I feared for your life.”

He smiled gently, his eyes shimmering with memories. “Father
paid the ransom and found me, but not before the madman had me for three days.”

Tears rose in her eyes. “How could I have forgotten? The man
beat you, whipped you. That’s why you never take your shirt off.”

“Not in public.” He smiled but it vanished quickly.

“Not even for women?” Heat filled her face at her own
impertinent question. “I mean—”

“No. Not for the last three years.”

Disbelief filled her. “You haven’t been with a woman in
three years?”

“No.”

Another question popped into her mind, but she didn’t ask
it. It simmered inside her. Three years? As long as she’d been gone from his
life?

He took another step forward and nodded toward the book she
still clutched. “Your poetry.”

“I didn’t know you had a copy.”

Again he moved forward, each step measured. He held his hand
out, and she handed him the book. His big hands smoothed over the cover, and a
soft, quivery burn tingled in her stomach She caught her breath.

“I actually had two copies. I gave one to Xandra. Rayder had
a copy and while Xandra was on Aramus’ ship she read your work and loved it.
But I will not part with this one.” His gaze snapped up to hers, those eyes so
warm and compelling. “I want to read more of your work. Did you write while you
were with Pian’s caravan?”

She shook her head as those tears burned her eyes again.
“No. I wanted to. I yearned to, but…” She shook her head.

“But?”

“It’s as if I cannot manage to get the words past a barrier.
Past pain.”

The understanding in his eyes urged her to say more, but
instead she switched topics. “Your side. We need to tend to it.”

The spell hovering around them broke, and she returned the
poetry to his table.

“Wait. I’ll clean up in the bathing room and then you can
bandage the wound.”

He entered the room connected to the south wall and closed
the door. Feeling almost weak, she settled on a chair near the bed. Emotions
rioted through her. Fear. Apprehension. A strange excitement. Overwhelming
tenderness. This man did so many things to her. She’d fought the feelings for
so long it was second nature for her to deny them. Seeing him vulnerable with
evidence of physical pain still marking his body—by Draconus, she could barely
stand it. That craving, both indefinable and undeniable, made her yearn to
touch him. At the same time, she feared his touch.

She sat for a long time before he left the bathing room. He
wore clean buff-colored trousers, but he was bare-chested and barefoot. His
freshly clean hair hung in wet tendrils around his shoulders. Only a man as
masculine as Marc could have thick blond hair that long and still appear all
man.

She stood and reached for the medical kit she’d found next
to his bed. He sat on the bed, and she scooted the chair up to the bed. With
quick efficiency she cleaned the long cut. The healer’s stitching and special
salves had worked wonders on a wound that should be far worse. As she started
to touch his wound with salve, she hesitated.

“It’s all right,” he said softly. “If you want me to do it—”

“No. I can do it.” And she could.

She’d thought touching him might frighten her. Instead, her
concern for him brushed aside any worry. After all, she’d half carried him off
Aramus’ ship after they helped free the slaves. Still, she moved quickly. After
she dabbed the salve, she realized she’d have to wrap a fresh bandage around
him. She reached for the bandage roll.

Her breath froze. But not with fear. With an unbearable
awareness of him as a man. Even though she was a Daryk One, nothing about him
was weak or in need of her protection. He was tall, powerful, utterly
masculine. He smelled clean and intoxicating. A heady combination of feelings
bombarded her. Her hands shook as she wrapped the gauzy bandage around his
middle. She tied off the bandage, making sure it was tight.

“Aknada.” His voice, so deep and husky, rasped close to her
ear.

She stood and he followed.

They were only inches apart. Being this close to a man
should have made her skin crawl. Her body shudder. Instead, for one brief
moment, she forgot to experience fear. More than once he’d looked at her like
this—and not just since they’d been reunited after three years apart. So long
ago he’d gazed at her with heated longing and a suppressed need she knew could
explode at any minute.

Or, the little critic in the back of her head said, it was
all her imagination. Maybe he’d never acted as if he wanted her. Never
insinuated more times than she could count that he’d like to be with her
sexually. Maybe everything wonderful about their relationship all those years
ago had been an illusion.

Those cool eyes, somewhere between silver and blue, warmed
and caressed.

She ached with memories of their life before she was taken
prisoner by Aramus. Marc had teased her frequently, but she’d given as much
back. She’d always been his equal. He’d always shown her the utmost respect.
Even the lively banter between them had energized her rather than diminished.
Other than Rayder, she could not think of another person who had shown her such
unwavering friendship.

“Do you remember?” he asked softly, his eyes intent. He
didn’t move or try to touch her. “When we kissed?”

Chapter Three

How could Aknada forget? Several months before her betrothed
was killed and she was kidnapped, Marc had teased her about her betrothed
Braxis not knowing what a real kiss was. Marc had leaned in and brushed his
mouth over hers. A shocked look had hit his handsome face and erased the
cockiness. He’d turned and left. She’d stood there with her mind swimming and
lips tingling.

Months…no, years of suppressed passion had quivered and
held, dangling on the edge and ready to ignite.

“I remember,” she said, feeling breathless.

“Can I touch you?” Marc’s voice sounded so soft and
compelling.

Could he? Could she stand to have him touch her? “Yes.”

Ever so slowly, he reached for her hand. He simply held it.
“It hurts me to think you suffered at Aramus’ hands. You know I would have done
anything to find you, but I thought you were dead. Can you forgive me for not
searching for you?”

Sweet pleasure filled her as his hand enveloped hers. She
felt no fear, no revulsion at his touch. Happiness added to the gratification.
“There’s nothing to forgive. You didn’t know I was alive.” Tears filled her
eyes rapidly, shocking her. She sucked in a breath. “Would you have searched
for me if you knew I was alive?”

Consternation altered his expression. “By the god, of course
I would have.”

She sighed. “I know. I know you would have.”

His eyes closed and a smile touched his lips. He lifted her
hand to his mouth and kissed her fingers. “Thank Draconus. That’s a weight off
my mind.” He released her hand. “I have much to atone for.”

Surprise hit her. “Why?”

“All our years together as friends, I wasted time.”

“How?”

“When you became betrothed, I was enraged. But not at you.”

She nodded. “I remember. I didn’t understand why you were so
angry.”

“Because Braxis wasn’t worthy of you. But more because I
didn’t offer for you first.”

Aknada froze in shock.

“It is true.” He took a deep breath and let it out slowly.
He eased away from her and moved to the window where he stared outside at the
storm.

Stunned into silence, she waited. Her mind whirled. She
could no longer deny what she should have understood all along. Even if Marc
didn’t love her, his affection was strong and sure. He cared for her deeply.

“Marc.” She walked toward him. “Will you…will you help me
with something?”

Perhaps he could help her banish her fear of men. If she
couldn’t trust him, whom could she trust? Perhaps he could kiss her again.
Touch her until she no longer flinched.

He turned slowly. “Anything.”

“You know what happened to me on Aramus’ ship. I think you
understand the humiliation. I felt powerless after I was raped. I felt unclean
and as if my strength had been stripped from me.”

His eyes burned with anger. “You are the strongest woman I
know. You survived something no woman should have to go through.” Fire ignited
in his eyes. “I wish I could have killed Aramus myself.”

She nodded, and more tears came to her eyes. When had she
ever cried this much? She allowed tears to spill down her cheeks.

“By the god,” he whispered. “Please don’t.”

He walked toward her until he stood in front of her again.

She wiped at her cheeks. “I’m sorry.”

“There is nothing to be sorry for. Aknada, I cannot stand
this any longer.”

Worry dried her tears. “What?”

“I missed my opportunity before, and I won’t again. Marry
me.”

Panic rose above other emotions, and she stepped back until
she bumped into the table behind her. A candlestick tipped over. Outside, the
storm raged like Marc’s dragon Arcos when angry. She had planned to ask him to
initiate her into gentle touches. On the hand. The shoulder. Anything in slow
increments that would make a difference. Marriage? No. He would expect sex.

He held up one hand. “I know it is sudden, and you’re
surprised.”

She shook her head. “Marc, it’s too much.”

“I understand. Please let me propose something else. I know
what happened to you makes it difficult for you to touch a man or be touched.”

“Yes.”

“Give me time to show you how it could be between us.”

Uncertainty raked her with sharp points. “I am not whole. I
cannot give you what you need. I cannot give you sex.”

Anger flashed in his eyes. “Damn it, Aknada, even if I could
never touch you again, I would still want you for my wife.”

Her mouth popped open, but she couldn’t speak.

“I have a proposal for you.” He moved another step closer,
and she moved another step away. “Come to me every day and touch me if you
want. I will not touch you again. Ever again, if you don’t want it.” He closed
his eyes, his voice lower and deeper. “Though I ache for you, I will let you
set the pace.”

Now she was more than surprised. She was amazed he’d been
thinking the same thing as her.

He continued. His face more animated. “All my life I’ve
wanted you. I’ve longed for you. Every day I ache to be inside you. But I know
it may never be unless you heal. Unless my feelings for you can erase the
horrible things that happened to you.”

Those damn tears threatened to spill again. “I will think on
it. I…I have to go and…”

She bolted, heading for the door as if a dragon stalked her.
She left his room, slammed the door behind her and hurried to her room. Before
she could reach it, Xandra left her chambers and came toward her.

Xandra’s eyes reflected worry. “Whatever is wrong? Are you
all right?”

Thunder rattled the structure, so loud it made them both
start. “I’m fine.”

“You’ve been crying.” Xandra’s fingers curled around
Aknada’s biceps. “What’s happened? Did Bavarda upset you? Or perhaps Marc?”

Aknada shook her head. “Bavarda couldn’t upset me. Marc is…”

“A pain sometimes, I know. Do you want to talk?”

Xandra sighed when Aknada didn’t speak. “There’s nothing to
say.”

Xandra leaned forward. “You can tell me anything.”

Aknada knew that, and it comforted her. She opened her
bedchamber. “Please come inside.”

Xandra shook her head. “I would, but we’re still busy
feeding people downstairs.”

“Oh my goodness. I’m sorry. I’ll help.”

“No, no. Do not be concerned.” Xandra frowned. “I know you
are going through so much. I cannot imagine your pain. But Marc loves you. No
one can help but see it. Everyone knows it.”

Aknada felt as if she’d been knocked over. “He’s asked me to
marry him.”

Xandra burst into a happy smile and gasped. “That is so
wonderful. Congratulations.”

“I didn’t say yes.”

Xandra’s happy sparkle faded and thunder crashed outside as
if to pinpoint her disappointment. “Why?”

Despite her affection for Xandra, Aknada’s temper broke
loose. “Why is it that everyone thinks they know what I should do?”

Xandra’s eyes widened. “That is not how I meant it. You must
go with your conscience and what burns in your heart.” Xandra touched her
chest. “You will do whatever is in your heart, whatever you believe is right.”

Aknada, who didn’t often show signs of affection, drew
Xandra into her arms for a hug. “Please forgive my temper.”