You Are Mine (48 page)

Then he lay back and lifted her, sliding her down onto him, sheathing himself in the slick, wet heat of her body.

Fuck, she felt so good. The rightness of it made him want to be still, savor the feeling of connection with her.

Her fingers moved over his chest and he let them, craving the touch. Then they paused over the angel he'd had tattooed over his heart, the one he'd gotten the night he'd first met her.

“An angel,” she said softly, tracing the outline of the figure.

He reached up and covered her hand, pressing her palm against the tattoo, feeling the heat of it brand him.

She met his gaze, her eyes as bright as stars. “Is … that me?”

“Yes.”

“I have a sword.”

He smiled. “How else are you supposed to protect me?”

“Zac…”

He reached up, slid his hand through her hair, cupping the back of her head, drawing her head down for a kiss. “Not now,” he murmured against her mouth. “Tell me you love me again. I want to hear it.”

“I love you,” she whispered. “I love you so much.”

“Show me.”

And this time when the dragon began to rise, he let it.

Because this time the dragon was love.

 

EPILOGUE

Violet Fitzgerald hated the subway, but she took it precisely because she knew how much it annoyed both her parents. They seemed to think that a Fitzgerald should be above riding in such common things as buses and subway cars. Even taxis were, to some extent, verboten.

Which meant Violet took great pleasure in riding
only
the subway. In New York's traffic, it was silly not to anyway.

Across the subway car from her, a man sat slumped against the windows. He looked drunk and was muttering under his breath. Several people had already given him a wide berth, and Violet was debating the merits of changing carriages at the next stop.

There were too many weirdoes; that was the problem.

The subway rattled around a corner and the lights flickered, the darkness on the outside pressing in.

Not long now.

The train began to slow and Violet got to her feet, moving to the doors, her heart thumping, impatient to get off.

She'd spent all day in a café, painstakingly doing the usual internet searches, trying to find something, anything, that could shed light on her brother's death. Sixteen years since he'd supposedly died and she'd discovered nothing.

Until she'd gotten that call today.

God, she couldn't wait to get off. She needed to discuss this with Honor.

Footsteps shuffled behind her as other people began to get to their feet in preparation for their stop.

Something hard pressed up against her side, making her stiffen in shock.

“If you scream, I'll kill you,” a dark, deep male voice said in her ear.

Ice ran down her spine, the marrow in her bones freezing solid. She turned her head.

Cold black eyes. Scarred face.

He smiled. “You don't want to die, do you, Violet?”

 

Read on for an excerpt from the next book by

JACKIE ASHENDEN

KIDNAPPED BY THE BILLIONAIRE

Coming soon from St. Martin's Paperbacks

 

 

 

Elijah waited by the store counter, his hands in the pockets of his leather bike jacket. One hand curling around his gun, because shit, he had to hold onto something that reminded him of his goddamn purpose. Especially when he was also trying to quell the intense hard-on in his jeans.

He couldn't get the sight of Violet out of his head. The way she'd pulled off his shirt and dropped it on the ground, then staring at him, her eyes full of challenge as she'd stood there completely naked.

Of course he'd known what he was in for when he'd joined her in the fitting room. And he'd known she wouldn't be happy about it. But he hadn't wanted to leave her there by herself, because who knew what she'd manage to get up to if he couldn't keep an eye on her? He couldn't afford any surprises like the one she'd sprung on him in the bathtub the day before.

He'd thought he could handle her. He'd thought he had himself under control enough that her taking off her clothes wouldn't affect him in the slightest.

But he'd been wrong.

She'd walked towards him, her body smooth and golden and lushly curved, and he'd felt the weight of every single day of the past seven years of abstinence pressing down on him. Crushing him. Those small, high breasts he'd touched, stroked. The graceful indent of her waist and the swell of her hips. The soft thatch of golden curls between her thighs.

He'd gotten hard, so hard, almost instantly. And then she'd walked towards him, all determination, showing him she wasn't afraid, getting right up close. He'd seen the triumph in those beautiful turquoise eyes of hers, had known he hadn't hidden his desire from her as well as he'd thought.

So he'd had to assert himself somehow, show her he was still in control.

That didn't work out so well, did it?

He could feel the heat of her skin against his palm even now. Smell the scent of her body, musk and sandalwood. He'd frightened her, and yet it hadn't only been fear in her eyes; there had been heat there too.

All he'd been able to think about then was the way she'd been in his lap the day before, the way she'd arched into his hand, wanting more. A little cat wanting to be stroked.

Fuck, he'd wanted her. And that had made him so goddamned angry, because he knew that she was also playing him. That she was using the strange chemistry between them to get to him, probably using sex to change his mind about giving her to Jericho.

You should have just taken her.

His fingers curled on the gun, the metal warming beneath his palm. The fucking sales assistant was still talking on the phone, oblivious.

Perhaps he should have. He could have lifted her up against the door of the fitting room and unzipped his jeans, let her sink down on his cock, holding her there while he emptied himself of this ridiculous craving.

“I wouldn't mind…”

Christ, that husky voice, the spark of pure blue in her eyes as she'd stared at him.… She'd wanted him too. But he'd known in that instant he couldn't do it. It was hard enough managing his own hunger let alone hers, and bringing them together would be madness.

It would negate the whole of the last seven years.

Movement near the fitting rooms caught his attention and he turned to see Violet coming towards him, holding the empty hangers in her hands.

She wore a pair of tight fitting black leather pants, a silky looking green top, and a black leather bike jacket. It was such a change from her normal hippy looking outfits that he couldn't help staring at her. Gone was the free-spirit in the chiming jewelry and brightly colored silk skirts. In her place was a tough biker chick with a guarded, wary expression.

He wasn't sure if that was an improvement or not.

Stopping by the counter, she handed him the hangers and the tags she'd obviously removed from the clothes. “Here. You'll need these.”

He took them from her and pulled out his wallet, adding up the prices then extracting some cash and dumping it on the counter. The sales assistant clearly had the phone attached to her ear because she didn't stop talking, but he wasn't waiting. He didn't need the change anyway.

Grabbing Violet's arm again, he tucked her in close as they headed out of the store.

The walk back to the apartment was far more tense this time and she made no effort to talk to him, which he appreciated. It was hard enough trying to keep his mind on what he was supposed to be doing and not on the way the smell of the leather of her jacket combined with her scent to make something new and utterly sensual.

Fuck, this was ridiculous. With any luck Jericho would be getting in contact real soon and then she wouldn't be his problem anymore.

They came to a stop by a street crossing, waiting for the signal. His building was just up ahead and he was running over in his head his plans for when Jericho got in contact, where he was going to get the man to meet him and how that was all going to play out.

Then Violet suddenly jerked away from him.

Because he was a little distracted, his reaction wasn't quite what it should have been, his fingers closing around her arm just a fraction too late.

He cursed viciously, but she was already running, flinging herself across the street heedless of the traffic, ignoring the sounds of car horns as she dodged them. And for a second he found himself watching in amazement, because shit, the gall of the woman. She just never gave up, did she?

Then he was running himself, plunging into the crowded mass of vehicles after her. Tires squealed, more horns sounding, the shouts of drivers echoing as he slid over the hood of one car then dodged a motorcycle. He ignored all of them, his attention fixed on a small figure in black running for her life down the sidewalk.

She hadn't a chance of course. He was stronger and faster, and although fear must have given her wings, his anger was rocket fuel. She was his only chance to get to Jericho and he was not letting her get away.

The distance between them decreased by the second and when she turned her head to look behind her, it decreased even more as she slowed. She whipped her head back around and tried to put on a burst of speed, but even that wasn't going to save her.

He wasn't even near to being winded.

There weren't a lot of people around, but even so he had to catch her and catch her quickly in case someone decided to take action and call the cops. Which would be the last fucking thing he needed.

He ran faster, closing the distance.

Violet was heading towards a group of people standing on the sidewalk up ahead and chatting, but she must have realized she wasn't going to reach them in time, because she suddenly changed direction, darting down what must have been an alley way between two buildings.

Bad idea.

He reached the alley seconds later, racing after the dark figure in black fleeing down it.

Catching her at the halfway point, Elijah reached out and grabbed her, hauling her around then pushing her up against the rough brick of one of the buildings bordering the alley.

She struggled at first, pushing against him, and then, when he didn't move, she went still, lifting her chin and staring up at him. She was panting, her skin flushed pink with exertion, her blue-green eyes glittering. Fear flickered there, unmistakable. Yet not as much as he'd thought. In fact, she looked more angry than anything else.

Christ. This woman.

“What the fuck was that?” He put a hand on her shoulder and pinned her against the wall. “You do that again and I'll make you wish you'd never been born.”

She stared at him, the fear disappearing, replaced by a kind of determined defiance. Then, shockingly, her mouth curved and she gave a breathless laugh. “Oh, come on. I had to try, right?”

And for some reason he couldn't possibly fathom, her laughter made a surge of intense rage go through him. He was sick of her bravado. Sick of her defiance. This determination to push him, test him. This complete refusal to be cowed.

She had to stop. She had to learn he was something to be feared. Not some weak little fuck in a suit that could be manipulated into doing whatever she wanted.

She wanted to push him? Consider him pushed.

“You think this is a game?” He leaned in, so close they were almost nose to nose. “Well, do you, Violet? You think that when I catch you, it's your turn to chase me?”

Her smile became twisted and he could see the rage begin to flicker again in the turquoise depths of her eyes. Rage and fear, they always went hand in hand. So she was scared and she hated it, and she didn't want him to see it. Well, fuck, he could work with that.

“Of course this is a game,” she said, a sneer in her voice. “It's called outwit the big, dumb criminal.” Her breath was coming in rushing bursts, he could hear it despite the noise of the traffic coming from the street. “Am I winning yet?”

“No.” He stepped closer, forcing her harder against the wall with his body, physically intimidating her. “You don't get to win. You don't get to do anything but shut the fuck up and do as you're told.”

Even now, even when he was looming over her and his anger had to be scaring her, she had that little chin of hers lifted. And there was something other than anger gleaming in her eyes. A spark of … Jesus. Was that excitement?

“Or what?” Violet demanded. “You keep telling me about all this stuff you're going to do—”

He reached out with his other hand, took her jaw in a hard grip, cutting off the stream of words. “I keep telling you that you should be afraid,” he said, coating each word with ice. “But you don't listen. Perhaps you'll listen now.”

Her eyes had gone wide and for some reason her gaze had dropped to his mouth. And unwanted physical awareness began to seep through him. Of how soft her skin felt against his fingers and how red her lips were. How she'd trembled when he'd put a hand to her throat back in the store … She'd wanted him. Except she had no idea what she was asking for.

So? Show her. Scare the shit out of her.

Elijah tightened his grip on her jaw just a little, tilting her head back.

Then he covered her mouth with his.

 

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