“I should thank you.”
“No need.”
“Who are you?”
“A friend.”
She wanted to tell him that no Ionian was friends with a man. She settled for “Impossible.”
“Why do you doubt me?”
“Because I know what you are.”
“Maybe. Maybe not. But I will never convince you with words.”
“Or any other way.”
“We’ll see.”
Moving slowly, he took a step closer, then another until he was standing only a few feet away.
He was so close that she should be able to see him clearly now, yet clarity of vision was impossible. Her senses were still muddled, perhaps by the gas.
Cautiously, as though he were trying not to spook a frightened animal, he lifted his hand, touching her hair, running his fingers through the silky strands.
The other man had touched her, too. An unwelcome touch. But this was as different as the taste of wine and beer. She sensed that this man meant her no harm, although that could be as much of a trick as anything else that had happened in the last half hour.
A half hour?
Was that all the time that had passed since the car had gone off the road? She didn’t know for sure, but she suspected that she hadn’t been out here much longer.
When he massaged his fingers through her hair and down to her scalp, she felt something that she had never felt from a man. Something unique. It was almost as if she could sense his thoughts. Almost, but not quite. They were blurred—like her vision. Yet she hovered on the brink of a marvelous discovery. One that she knew would mean more to her than anything she had encountered in this life or any other.
Every instinct had commanded her to shrink from the other man’s touch. Now she craved what this one offered.
A hum of sensuality flooded through her, and she clenched her hands at her sides to keep from reaching out and pulling him closer.
“Who are you?” she whispered again. “We haven’t met before, have we?”
“No.”
He continued to caress her, his touch so different from the earlier one. The first man had been arrogantly possessive. This one was no less sure of his purpose, yet she felt need coursing through him as he touched her. Or was she only projecting her own feelings onto him?
His face was close to hers. He could have taken her mouth if he wanted. Instead he bent to press his cheek to hers, that touch as erotic as any kiss. When he slowly pulled her body against his, the breath caught in her throat.
She had thought the first man had aroused her. It was nothing to what she felt now.
Her senses whirled. Her mind spun. Her blood pumped hotly through her veins. She couldn’t speak, but she felt a question form in her mind.
What do you want
? she asked, the way she might speak to one of her sisters over a distance.
Again, she felt a flicker of something coming from his mind.
Everything.
Had he silently answered?
Whether he had or not, she felt a flood of longing coursing through her.
Or was she so off balance that she couldn’t judge her own responses?
He pulled her more tightly against himself, and she could feel his erection pressing against her middle and the heat of his body overwhelming her.
“Sophia,” he murmured.
“You know my name?”
“Yes.”
“How?”
He laughed softly. “Modern technology. The spa has a Web site.”
“Oh. Right.”
And she was pictured there, with the others. Maybe that was a mistake they should correct.
She started to pull away.
“Not yet.”
She turned her head—to look at him. And he turned at the same time, so that his mouth brushed hers. An accident.
But she was helpless to draw away as sensations assaulted her. She marveled at the softness of his lips, marveled at the currents of sensation surging through her as his mouth settled on hers, moving, pressing, urging her to open for him.
She accepted the invitation, drinking in the taste of him as his tongue pressed beyond her lips, teasing her and then withdrawing.
It was the most erotic kiss she had ever experienced, and it made her want more. So much more.
Somehow, she knew it was the same for him. They belonged together, in a way she could only dimly understand. But she would. She was sure of it. As sure as she was that he was going to make love with her here and now.
She wanted that. So much.
Before she could raise her hands to pull him closer, he let his arms drop to his sides and stepped back, putting a foot of space between them. As the heat of his body left hers, she felt such a sense of profound loss that she had to steady her hand against the side of the car.
“Not like this. It must be right.”
The words were so low that she barely heard them, as though he were talking to himself.
Turning away, he walked to the rear of the SUV. “You need to get back to the spa.”
“The . . . car’s stuck,” she managed to say.
“I’ll take care of it. Step back.”
When she’d done as he asked, he grasped the bumper with both hands. As she watched, he bent and braced his legs in the shifting soil, then began to rock the car, moving it back and forth, freeing the vehicle from the unstable surface. With a mighty heave, he shoved the SUV back onto the road.
CHAPTER
THREE
JASON TYRON STOOD with his heart pounding, watching Sophia, wondering what she would do. He had already dared too much, gone too far, yet nothing could have stopped him from gathering her into his arms when they’d finally been alone.
He’d simply wanted to hold her. Then he’d almost lost his sense of purpose in the heat of the moment. Somehow he’d had the strength to step away from her before shoving the car out of the dirt and onto the road so that she could leave.
Now the front of his body felt cold where her warmth had left him. At the same time, he still felt her imprint along every one of his nerve endings.
For a charged moment, he thought she might return to his arms, drawn back by the need that had sprung up between them and started to blaze out of control. She shouldn’t do it, but he saw it in her eyes as she stood facing him. Felt it in the intent radiating from her like the blast of a furnace.
Sanity told him this was the wrong time and the wrong place to take this any further. She was in danger out here. And so was he if he let himself succumb to the sensations that were already making him dizzy.
“What just happened?” she asked in a shaky voice.
“We kissed.”
He saw her swallow. “You know it was more than that.”
“What was it?”
This time, she was the one who looked uncertain, and he was sure she didn’t want to examine the strong emotions of the encounter too closely.
She proved the point by changing the subject. “Do you know who that other man was?”
“No. But I’m going to find out.”
“Who are you?”
Although he could have given her a lot of answers, he kept them all locked behind his lips. It would be easier to reach for her again; but if he did that, he was as bad as the other guy, the one who’d forced her off the road.
“You should go.”
“I won’t leave until you explain what’s going on.”
He almost laughed at the typical Ionian reaction. Even now, she was making herself the one in charge.
“Don’t put yourself in any more danger.”
“From you?”
“Of course not!”
He burned to prove it to her. Instead, before he could do anything he was going to regret for the rest of his life, he turned and ran from her as swiftly as he had arrived, disappearing into the desert darkness, putting on a burst of speed that made his lungs burn.
Her thoughts seemed to reach out to him, calling him back. Or more likely that was what he wanted to believe.
Calm down
, he told himself.
You’ll get what you want, but not if you push too fast.
To distract himself, he thought about the other man who had stopped her on the road. Had the other guy known who she was? Or had he even cared which one he captured?
Had he studied the Ionians the way Jason had?
He’d acquainted himself with all of them—from afar. Fallen a little in love with all of them. Longed to have one of them to bond with him in the way his parents had bonded.
A few minutes ago he hadn’t known which one it would be. Perhaps he hadn’t even cared. But when he’d gathered Sophia close, he’d felt a special thrill. As though it was meant to be
her
all along
.
His roiling emotions almost made him stop and turn around. If he went back to her, he could.... They could . . .
No. Not yet. He had time. And carefully considered plans.
STILL
feeling dazed, Sophia stared after the man who vanished into the darkness, leaving her standing alone beside the car.
Moments ago, she’d had no way of leaving this place, except on foot. Now she’d better get away before someone came speeding along and smashed into her.
Or would the car even start?
Still coping with the enormity of everything that had happened, Sophia turned the key in the ignition.
She felt a surge of relief as the engine sprang to life. With a jerky motion, she flicked the transmission into drive and lurched forward, then remembered to turn on her lights.
Although she hadn’t been able to contact Tessa after the attacker had sprayed her with that gas, it had worn off. Maybe she could reach the high priestess, Cynthia. The woman who had led the Sisterhood for almost thirty years. She was in her seventies now, but like the rest of them, she had the Ionian genes that gave her the appearance of a much younger woman.
Under ordinary circumstances, Sophia would never presume to try and contact the high priestess mind to mind without permission, but fear had her reaching out for help now.
Cynthia, I need your strength. Please open yourself to me.
In her highly emotional state, she caught the border of the other woman’s consciousness. But she knew at once that Cynthia was in her bedroom—and not alone.
A sudden vision filled her brain, of two people rolling across a wide bed, their hands moving frantically over each other’s naked bodies as they exchanged hot, savage kisses.
One of them spoke low, erotic words.
Sophia couldn’t tell which. And she didn’t want to know.
Mortified that she was seeing this encounter, she desperately tried to pull away from the bedroom, but she was held captive, perhaps because of her own encounters in the desert.
She saw the woman take command, pushing the man to his back and climbing on top of him. The foreplay had been frantic. As soon as they were joined, she changed the rules of engagement so that the encounter suddenly became languid.
Cynthia and her lover, Matthew Layden.
Sophia clenched her teeth, knowing that she had overstepped the bounds of Ionian propriety.
She had known Layden was at the spa, and she should have been smart enough to realize that Cynthia would probably be with him after her duties were finished for the day. Yet Sophia’s desperation and her own muddled state had sent her hurtling into territory where she should not have ventured.
She’d heard whispered comments about Cynthia and her lover. Unflattering comments. Since the Ionians’ long-ago flirtation with the Minot, the women had vowed never again to be dominated by men. Over the centuries, they had used the opposite sex for only two purposes. For procreation and for their own pleasure—and at their own pleasure. They never married, because their loyalty was to the ancient order. But Cynthia had developed a relationship with her current lover that appeared to go beyond those bounds.
For a few moments, Sophia was caught and held by the bedroom scene.
Making a tremendous effort, she wrenched her mind away, but she had the awful suspicion that the high priestess had sensed the intrusion.
Which wasn’t going to make things any easier when Sophia told her sisters about her encounter on the road. With
two
Minot.
Only a few of the Ionians living at the spa now had dealt with
any
Minot.
But she’d learned about them in the classes that she and her sisters had taken after their regular schoolwork. Almost two thousand years ago, the Ionians had been like blond goddesses in a country of dark-haired people. Until they’d found themselves smack in the path of a barbarian invasion of Greece. Because there was no other way to escape the hordes, they’d turned to the Minot for help.