Opal's Wish: Book Four of The Crystal Warriors Series (22 page)

He was very much not “okay” but there was little point in revealing the truth when she hadn’t believed his previous explanations. Little point in expending further effort to convince her, either. He would be gone soon enough, leaving her to resume her life. Such as it was.

Regret—sharp as a finely honed belt dagger—pierced him. ’Twas a crime for a woman like Opal to hide away, fearful of living life to the fullest. If she were his woman he would treasure her, care for her, gently encourage her to spread her wings until she finally understood her own worth. But she could never be his. He knew that. Just as he knew that if he pushed her too hard, tried to make her see he
wasn’t
unbalanced, and that everything he’d revealed was the truth, she would banish him again and deny him the two things that kept him from falling on whatever passed for a sword in this world: herself and her daughter.

The realization that Opal had come to mean as much to him as her daughter was shocking. Giving one’s heart to a child was easy. But loving a woman? A surefire way to confound and distract a warrior… and get him killed.

Opal cleared her throat, and he realized he hadn’t answered her question. His commander, Lord Keeper Wulf, would have clouted him over the head for woolgathering. He could almost hear the man’s cold, merciless voice saying, “Get your idiot head on straight before you lose it. The gods-damned immunity spell doesn’t make you immortal.”

He mentally shook himself. “A miscommunication with a door,” he said blandly. “You should see the door.”

If the way she was looking at him was any indication she didn’t appear to believe his lie, but all she said was, “Wh-wh-why are you… h-h-here?”

Perhaps best Opal that remain blissfully ignorant of her daughter’s role in securing him this abode. If Sera had been
his
child, he would be furious about that trip to the shelter. ’Twas no place to bring a little girl. “I am good with my hands. The old man has some tasks that need doing, and offered me his spare room. So we are to be neighbors for a short while.” A partial truth, at least.

“Oh.”

A flare of heat, heavy with whispered promises and offerings of pale silky skin, flashed across her eyes. That heat suggested she wanted him. Badly. If he wasn’t mistaken, that was. And he didn’t think he was mistaken but then, stranger things had happened. Such as traveling through a portal to another world. Falling afoul of a powerful sorcerer. Being cursed to a crystal… and being called from it, only to learn his chance at redemption had been torn from him through no fault of his own. Given what he’d suffered, what he’d endured, how could he rely on his judgment?

He’d never forgive himself if he misread the signals she was giving out. But what was he to think when she was staring at him, eyes wide and gleaming with excitement, like she expected him to sweep her into his arms and carry her away? She licked her lips again, and this time those lips parted on a breathy, feminine sigh that shot sensation straight to his cock. And suddenly he was so damnably hard it was all he could do not to groan.

Now her eyelids drifted slowly down until her beautiful green eyes were half-shuttered and all sultry feminine invitation, and her fingers, still captured beneath his hand, kneaded his chest. Her stance seemed to soften, as though her body had given up trying to fight the attraction and was surrendering. As though she invited him to ravish her right here, right now, where anyone passing by could witness their coupling.

Gods, he was sorely tempted. But not with Sera and the old man a mere room away. Not when his control balanced on a dagger’s edge.

He fought to keep his muscles relaxed so as not to alarm her in any way. And he wondered how he would resist her if she offered herself to him here, now. He wondered if he
could
resist her when memories of her body cleaving to his might be all that kept him sane once the crystal took him again.

A sobering thought, that. And if carnal memories of Opal’s willowy blonde beauty were all that he had left to sustain him in the unending darkness of his crystal prison, he would prefer their coupling not be quick and rough and lacking finesse. No. Rather he would take his time with her, show her, teach her. Bury nightmares of the past beneath new memories. And to do that, to show her how good coupling could be for a woman when a man cherished her, he needed Opal to trust him enough to lower her defenses. He needed her to
choose
him, not merely capitulate and allow him to choose for her. He needed more of the one thing he didn’t have: time. So it was both a relief and a torture when he heard the patter of feet.

Danbur released Opal’s hand and took a step back, distancing himself. He watched her hand flutter and then fall to her side, watched her blink and flush a becoming shade of pink, and then scramble to shake off the sensual mantle she’d wrapped about them both.

Sera barreled up beside him. She peered out at her mother. “Mommy, you’re home already? But dinner’s nearly ready!”

Pieter must have heard that wail of protest. “There’s plenty to eat,” he called out from the kitchen. “I made extra. Tell your mother to come in, Sera. She’s been on her feet all day and she must be exhausted.”

Pieter’s last word echoed strangely in Danbur’s head and, as if a signal flag had been dropped, Opal’s face paled and she sagged, as though her legs could no longer hold her upright.

Danbur’s heart somersaulted in his chest. Instinctively he surged forward and scooped her into his arms. She stiffened, and then with a sigh, relaxed against him. And, gods help him, she felt right there, in his arms.

“What’s wrong with Mommy?” Sera tugged on the hem of his shirt as he carried her mother inside.

“I’m fine,” Opal said, but her voice was weak.

“When did you last eat?” Danbur knew his tone was little more than a growl but he was too concerned for her wellbeing to care how he sounded.

“Does dipping a finger into a bowl of vinaigrette to check the seasoning count?” she asked.

“Absolutely not.” Pieter stood at the doorway. He pointed imperiously at the nearest couch and waited until Danbur had lowered Opal to the cushions. “And neither do those snack bars you mistakenly believe serve as an adequate noonday meal. Sera and I will bring you a tray with your dinner.” Addressing Sera, Pieter said, “Your mother will be fine once we’ve gotten some proper food into her.”

Opal immediately grabbed the arm of the couch, tensing as if to rise to her feet, but Danbur was having none of it. He placed both hands on her shoulders and gently but insistently pushed her backward. “Stay. Rest.”

“I’m not a dog,” she said, scowling, but she did as he bid her. Just as well. He didn’t believe she would appreciate being held in his lap like a naughty child. Not to mention having her firm, sweetly rounded arse perched across his thighs would test the limits of his control.

“What are you smirking about?”

He plunked onto the couch, throwing up his hands in a gesture of surrender.

“Mommy!” Sera clapped her hands. “You’re not stuttering!”

Shock pooled in Danbur’s belly. He mentally rewound the last few minutes. Gods. The child was right. He cast a speculative glance at Pieter, wondering if the sorcerer had worked some magic to cure Opal of the affliction.

The old man met his gaze and shook his head.

Hmmm. Interesting. Danbur focused again on Opal, now slouched in her seat, arms folded across her chest, a defiant gleam in her eyes. “Stop looking at me like that,” she said.

“How am I looking at you, exactly?”

“Like I’ve been putting on this stutter to fool people. It happens, okay? Sometimes the stutter disappears for a bit but it never lasts. It always comes back. Always.”

She sounded so defeated he wanted to snatch her into his arms and comfort her with platitudes and lies—whatever it took to wipe that desolate expression from her face. Instead, he folded himself into the seat next to her, taking care not to encroach on her space.

“Come, Sera,” he heard Pieter say. “Let’s dish up. We can serve Danbur’s portion on a tray, too. I think he and your mother need some private time, don’t you?”

“Are they gonna kiss and make up?” Sera’s question shocked everyone to silence.

“It depends,” Opal finally said, and then her eyes widened and a hand crept to cover her lips—as though she couldn’t believe such provocative words had issued from her mouth.

Danbur couldn’t believe she’d uttered them either—those two words that changed everything. Or nothing, depending upon what she chose to do next. Vaguely he registered that Pieter had ushered Sera into the kitchen, and now it was just Opal and him. Alone. With a challenge to be answered. And though he dared summon hope, he didn’t possess the courage to speak and risk it shattering so he stayed mute and still.

The silence grew. As did the tension that prodded the woman seated next to him to clasp her hands tightly in her lap.

She hadn’t dared look at him yet. She kept her gaze firmly on her hands. But it mattered not how long it took for her to work up the courage to speak because while she struggled with how best to respond, the suggestion that they “kiss and make up” hadn’t been rejected out of hand… and the promise of what could be, hung bright and powerful between them. Too, her downcast gaze gave Danbur tacit permission to gaze at her and fix her more firmly in his memory—that delicate curve of cheek and vulnerable nape exposed by the band confining her hair, those slender arms and work-roughened hands, that enticing length of thigh hinted at beneath the worn and faded piece of clothing called an “overall”.

He knew what he’d like to do with that piece of clothing. He imagined leaning over, moving slowly and deliberately, giving her time to fully comprehend and accept what he was about to do. He imagined curving his palm about her nape, stroking the sensitive skin beneath her earlobe, urging her to meet his gaze and
see
everything he felt, everything he wanted to do to her and
with
her. Only then he would lower his mouth to hers, kiss her senseless while he unclasped the buckles at her shoulders to peel down her overall, unwrapping her like the gift that she was.

His gaze licked her from head to toe. Longing pounded through him. He could barely hear anything save the frenetic beating of his own heart. And his body, starved of sensation for so long, instantly responded to the images cascading through his mind—images of her straddling him, his hands at her hips, her full breasts bobbing as she rose and fell, her sheath milking the length of his cock, riding them both to breath-stealing completion.

He must have groaned or made some noise for abruptly her chin lifted, and before he could school his thoughts she’d gazed into his eyes, into his soul…. And gods-be-damned if he didn’t blush like a stripling gazing upon the glory of a naked woman for the very first time.

She knew what he wanted. Answering heat painted her cheeks. She swallowed, and when she moistened her lower lip with the tip of her tongue his own mouth was desert-dry as he waited for her to seal his fate.

“There will be no kissing,” she said, enunciating each word slowly and clearly, her speech affliction still nowhere in evidence.

“Of course not.” He smoothed his expression to better disguise his disappointment—nay, his
despair
—that only dreams of having her would accompany him into the darkness.

“I’m not going to kiss you.”

She hadn’t taken her gaze from his face and he nodded sharply, mutely cursing whatever she’d read in his eyes. It would do him no favors if she knew how much she meant to him and—

He blinked, fighting the need to pinch himself. Was he imagining it, or had she inched closer to him?

“There will be no ‘making up’ with you, either.”

She’d raised her hands and curled both forefingers in a gesture he guessed was meant to again emphasize these statements for his benefit. And he’d have believed she meant every word if she hadn’t moved closer still.

Somehow he managed to form a suitable response. “I understand.”

“I believe I’ve made it quite clear where we stand.”

His heart missed a beat. And then raced like battle-eager steed as she shifted restlessly again. One hand-span more and he could reach out and touch her. “You have,” he heard himself saying, the words soft and calm as an oasis pond, belying the hope boiling beneath the surface.

“Good. Just so’s we’re clear.”

He’d angled his body toward her when he’d sat, and this time when she moved her knee nudged his. He waited, muscles thrumming with tension, for her to ease back and create a measure of distance. But she didn’t. And that mere nudge of her knee against his devastated his senses. His control wavered and he crossed his arms over his chest, burrowing clenched fists beneath his armpits to prevent from snatching her against him and seducing her right here, right now, on the Crystal Guardian’s couch. And all the while she gazed into his eyes, unaware of what she was doing to him.

He had to swallow to moisten his throat before he could speak. “We are clear,” he said. Hah. A bald-faced lie, because nothing about this situation was clear to him. Her words, and the delivery of those words, killed all hope. But her actions called to mind the stealthy pursuit of a wily predator lulling its prey before it pounced.

“I’m very glad to hear it.” She shifted closer, her knee skimming his to nestle firmly against his thigh.

Gods. Did she not see what she was doing to him? How hard he was fighting not to give in to the need that burned through him? If she were any other woman he would believe she was playing games, teasing and titillating and enticing, but all the while waiting to smack him down the instant he made a move. The Opal he knew didn’t play games of that nature. Then again, the woman he knew stuttered, and the affliction worsened when her emotions ran high. She wasn’t stuttering. She sounded calm and certain, in complete control of her emotions. And if it hadn’t been for the spark burning in the depths of those cool green eyes he might have believed she felt nothing at all.

Alas, whether that spark was desire or anger or hatred, right now he was too confused to tell.