Immortally Theirs [Legends & Myths] (Siren Publishing Ménage Amour) (7 page)

They sampled the last wine and then the group filed out of the room, the tour guide directing them to the gift shop where they could purchase the wines they had just enjoyed. Stefan and Claire formed the end of the line. As the other members of the group exited the room, Claire shot a heated look over her shoulder at Stefan.

It was too much. Stefan grabbed her hand and pulled her back into the room, backing her up against the old wooden barrels lining the walls. Claire looked up at him with wide eyes, her chest heaving against his. Her gaze wandered down his face and settled on his mouth. The tip of her tongue shot out and she licked her lips.

That was more than Stefan could bear. Throwing caution and all sense of reason aside, he lowered his face to Claire’s. He pressed his lips to hers, his touch soft at first, since he didn’t want to spook her by being too aggressive. He needn’t have worried. She splayed both hands across his chest and leaned into him, kissing him back with enthusiasm. Stefan surrendered to his desire. With one long stroke, he ran his tongue along her lips. She parted them and Stefan almost cheered at her willingness to allow him entrance. His tongue plunged into her mouth and he groaned at the honey-and-wine flavor he found there. He slid his tongue along hers and explored the silkiness of her mouth. Her tongue dueled with his, taking as much from him as he took from her. Claire’s hands wrapped around his shoulders and she pulled him toward her, pressing herself against him. His cock was so hard it was painful.

Stefan couldn’t think straight. He knew he shouldn’t be letting this happen. He shouldn’t be getting involved with a woman destined to die in a few short days. But the feel of Claire’s body against him and the sweet, intoxicating taste of her drove all logic from his mind. She felt so good. She tasted even better. He liked making her smile and yearned to see the new spark in her eyes shine brighter. He wanted to make her body sing for him. He ground his hips into her and they both gasped as his cock pressed against her pussy, the heat between them almost unbearable in spite of the clothing separating them.

A throat being cleared broke through Stefan’s clouded thoughts and he forced himself to rip his lips away from Claire’s. A man wearing a shirt emblazoned with the winery logo stood in the room with raised eyebrows and an amused grin.

Stefan struggled to control his breathing and he shrugged. “Sorry.”

The man laughed and shook his head. “No problem. We get that all the time.”

Stefan gripped Claire’s hand and led her out of the room. Her flushed cheeks and shallow breathing told him she had been just as swept away by their kiss as he had been. She remained silent, but she entwined her fingers with his as they descended the stairs.

Stefan’s mind reeled with what had just happened and with what he was feeling. What the hell was he thinking? And what the hell was Christian going to say when Stefan told him he thought he might be falling for Claire?

“How can you come back here after two hundred and fifty years and tell me what we should and shouldn’t do?” Christian fumed at his brother, all the pent up rage and feelings of Stefan’s past betrayal pouring out of him at once. “Were you the one who came back to claim our property after the British left Florida? Was it you who made sure the casa was kept up for all these years? Were you the one who had to leave every decade or so until everyone here forgot what you looked like?” He stalked across the room to within a few inches of his brother and pointed his finger in his face. “Were you the one who chiseled the names of our family into their headstones over and over and over again to make sure they weren’t forgotten?” He stared at his silent brother and then turned and stalked toward the door. He turned back to Stefan one last time. “It’s not our place to change her. We have no right to take her mortality. Leave it be.”

Christian opened the door and stormed out, slamming it behind him and leaving his brother behind in the office. He stalked across the casa and fumed that Stefan could have been so reckless. His brother knew better than to involve himself on a personal level with a mortal. And to involve himself with one who was destined to die in a matter of days couldn’t be a wise choice.

Christian had been trying hard to get word to a light reaper, hoping one could arrive before Claire met her approaching fate. He thought he might have had some success through Marius, one of his many non-human acquaintances. Marius happened to be a fallen angel who still sought to regain favor and rejoin his angelic brothers, so he was often willing to perform a good deed. Christian found that knowing such beings came with some benefits, though not without perils. Angering the wrong beings could be problematic, even for an immortal.

Though immortality had provided Christian and Stefan with abilities not shared with other humans, knowing which beings to leave unprovoked made life much more comfortable. He and his brother couldn’t be killed, but certain beings could still make their lives miserable if they so desired. Christian had made the mistake of angering a disgruntled ghost years ago, only to have the disembodied spirit chase away all of his guests at the bed-and-breakfast. They’d managed to call a truce, but it had provided Christian with a lesson in supernatural diplomacy.

Christian stalked down the hall, fearing Stefan’s involvement with Claire would end in disaster. What if Stefan, caught up in his growing feelings for Claire, provided her with the one thing that would ensure she would never die? Christian feared she would end up hating Stefan forever for cursing her to a future with no end.

Stefan had always been impulsive, though, so why should Christian have expected that to change? His brother’s penchant for charging into dangerous situations was what had landed both of them in this eternal holding pattern in the first place. If Stefan hadn’t been so determined to rush into battle that night long ago, things might have been so different. And then afterwards, when they realized what their grandmother’s actions had done, Stefan’s impulsiveness hadn’t dimmed. He’d turned his rage and bitterness for having his mortality stolen on the English troops who had taken their lives and burned the city of St. Augustine to the ground. Stefan had hunted many of them down and sent them to their own eternal destinations.

Years later, when the newly-formed British Empire took control of Florida from Spain and the Spanish residents of St. Augustine had been exiled to Cuba, the rift between the brothers was sealed. Stefan had been furious at Christian for boarding one of the Spanish ships and sailing with the other evacuees to Cuba, rather than joining him to take vengeance on the ones responsible for the loss of their home.

Christian had faced over twenty years of exile in Cuba, alone and mourning the loss of not only his home, but also his brother’s companionship. Throughout those miserable years, he had held on to the hope that his brother would see the futility in his actions and return to him. But twenty-three long years after their exile, when the British turned Florida back over to Spain and St. Augustine’s refugees were allowed to reclaim their former homes, Stefan had stayed away.

Christian was glad beyond words that Stefan finally seemed to have put his bloodlust behind him and come to terms with his immortality. He knew the rift between them was not healed, but he hoped, with time, they would regain the relationship they once shared. But bringing another human into the situation was out of the question.

Stefan had accused Christian of being heartless toward Claire. But Christian knew his heart all too well and it scared the hell out of him. If he allowed Claire to penetrate the wall he had built around his emotions, only to have her hate him for eternity, he feared he would never recover. That prospect darkened Christian’s mood as he rounded the corner. Maybe it hadn’t been such a good idea to offer Claire the opportunity to stay here. Maybe he should have listened to Atticus that first night in the bar and walked away. But then he looked up and all thoughts fled as he saw the scene at the end of his bedroom corridor.

Claire stood on a ladder, reaching with her paintbrush to apply color to the mural she had been working on for the last couple of days. Or nights, Christian corrected himself. He had noticed Claire wasn’t sleeping well and he had heard her moving around the casa at night, working on her paintings. She was very quiet when she worked, so he hadn’t feared she would wake the other guests. Even Christian wouldn’t have heard her nocturnal movements if it hadn’t been for his enhanced hearing and the fact that he hadn’t felt the desire to sleep while she was awake.

He and Stefan had joined her out in the corridor during those nights, watching her work. The simple activity, often without any conversation between them, was the most camaraderie Christian had felt in centuries. He liked it. Much more than he knew he should.

The painting Claire was creating was beautiful. She had chosen this space, the grand arch surrounding the massive double wooden doors leading into his bedroom, to paint a mural. On each side of the doors, she had already painted a depiction of the corner of the casa’s courtyard where the fountain stood. He found it interesting that she had chosen that image to paint in this space. Her attention to detail was impressive and the water she painted almost seemed to dance as the light hit it. The old Poinciana tree, the one that stood next to the fountain downstairs, graced the walls and ceiling. Its branches spread out gracefully and its red flowers provided the alcove with rich, vibrant color.

In spite of the beauty on the walls, it was Claire who pulled at his attention, even as he fought the impulse. She stood with her arm stretched high above her, accentuating the lean lines of her body. Her dark-blue denim shorts, complete with splotches of paint where she had wiped her hands, hugged her hips and highlighted her long legs. Christian’s gaze continued its slow journey down her legs and he grinned as he noticed her bare feet. She seemed to enjoy walking around without shoes on much of the time. His gaze meandered back up her body, even as he berated himself for allowing his libido to get the upper hand.

His grin faded when he noticed her tongue slowly playing with her bottom lip. He’d noticed she did this when she was concentrating. His gaze locked on the pink tip as it toyed with her lip. A shudder worked its way through Christian’s body and his cock hardened and jerked in anticipation. He scolded himself for his reaction. He had just finished lecturing his brother about getting involved with Claire and now here he was, acting as though he were a hormonal schoolboy.

He stepped forward and cleared his throat to alert Claire of his presence. “It’s beautiful, Claire.”

Claire turned to look down at him and a smile spread across her face. “Really? I mean, you really like it?”

Christian couldn’t help grinning at her enthusiasm. “I do. It’s just what this space needed.”

Claire turned back to look at the branches of the tree. “I thought so, too. This space seemed…I don’t know. Dark. Like there wasn’t any life here before.”

Christian’s grin slid off his face. Claire’s observation was far too accurate. There had been no real life for him in a very long time.

Claire stepped backward to descend the ladder and he extended a hand to assist her. Her hand slid into his and he knew he would be lying to himself if he denied the effect the simple touch had on him. She hopped off the last step and looked up at her work, her small hand still held in his. He tried to ignore the heat that her hand seemed to transmit to him. He fought the rising surge of desire that was making his cock strain against his jeans.

She turned her happy smile up to him and beamed. “I’m glad you like it. I wish I had time to do more.”

Christian almost grimaced. There it was again. Time. There was either too much time or not enough of it. For him, it was too much. For Claire, not enough. Without him consciously giving it permission to do so, Christian’s free hand rose up to Claire’s face and his fingers gently wiped at a smudge of red paint on her cheek. Christian felt a flutter under his fingertips and her face blushed crimson. Her eyes widened as she looked up at him.

Christian tore his fingers away from her silken skin and stepped back, putting some much needed distance between them. “I should let you get back to your painting.” He dropped her hand and backed away toward his bedroom door.

Claire bit her lower lip and nodded. “Um, are we still going to the Fountain of Youth tomorrow?”

Christian’s hand froze on the doorknob. He had forgotten all about Claire’s earlier request and his promise to escort her. He turned back to Claire and met her expectant gaze. He shouldn’t go. He knew he shouldn’t.

“Of course. I’m looking forward to it.” He turned the doorknob and escaped into his bedroom. He shut the door firmly behind him and leaned against it.

Who was he kidding? He had a lot of nerve lecturing Stefan on his inability to restrain himself with Claire. How was he supposed to keep Stefan from falling for Claire when Christian couldn’t even trust himself not to do the same?

Claire stared down into the small cup in her hand, wishing it were really this easy. The dim light of the empty grotto surrounding the legendary Fountain of Youth pressed in on her, feeling as though it were a weight on her soul. They had gotten to the historic park early this morning, before most of the tourists showed up. She and Christian were alone in the place heralded to contain the life-giving water that Ponce de Leon had searched for so many centuries ago when he had sailed to Florida.

“You seem lost in thought.” Christian’s voice pulled her out of her silent musings.