Deadly Attraction (8 page)

“It’s my fault you’re injured. And there I was the other
day, telling you I didn’t want your friend Michael to hurt you again. I’ve gone
and done it myself.”

“Not your fault.”

“Yes, it is,” he whispered. His lips grazed her cheek, then
her jaw. “I didn’t keep you safe.”

“I didn’t let you.”

He sighed. “This castle isn’t the home you love. I
understand why you insisted on staying there, not here. But until you’re
healed, please sleep in my bed.”

Honestly, there was no place she’d rather be while she
recovered. Especially not alone and suffering in her cottage. But a daunting
thought flitted through her nearly numb brain. “The slayers will look for me.
They’ll see the tracks and the blood and come to the castle for me. They’ll
want to take me back.”

“Not until you’re healed,” he murmured, his breath teasing
her neck, comforting her. “Just get better. I’ll deal with everything else.”

Her eyelids closed once more and she couldn’t help but give
in to the drowsiness that consumed her. She had to place her faith in the Demon
King and believe no one would harm her while in his care.

Chapter Five

Darien felt sick to his stomach. Not a common occurrence for
an immortal of any species. His gut clenched so tight his abs hurt. And deep in
his damned soul, an unfamiliar sensation taunted him. The human sleeping
restlessly in his bed unleashed emotions within him so potent, he wondered if
lust had become an extreme understatement for the feelings he had for her.

He kept the fire blazing and the natural rosy color returned
to her lips. Her cheeks glowed with a similar tint. She’d lost whatever shoes
she’d been wearing, if she’d had a chance to slip into them at all. He pulled
the turned-down duvet from its folded position at the foot of the bed and
carefully draped it over her.

The temptation to slip into her mind was difficult to
resist. Returning to his bedside chair, he brushed strands of hair from her
face, gently so as not to disturb her. Possibly, in her slumber, her thoughts
might be more peaceful. If he could further soothe them so she could regain her
strength, then he could push past the strain she caused him over her agonized
state.

He took another sip of brandy and then relaxed in his chair.
Closing his eyes, he concentrated his thoughts solely on Jade. That was how he
could invade her subconscious mind.

Envisioning himself lying next to her, his arm around her as
she slept, he stroked her hair and whispered, “You’re safe here. With me.”

She snuggled closer to him.

“I’ll take care of you.” His fingers swept over her cheek
and her lips curled upward. “Just lie here with me. Sleep and heal.”

Darien continued to hold her and smooth his fingers over her
hair in his mental image. He had no idea how much time passed. Although he
wanted her to recover quickly, he didn’t mind comforting her. Having Jade in
his arms, even if only in his mind’s eye, brought a measure of relief to him.
Along with the hope he could actually help her heal. Or at least help her past
the pain.

Sheena returned and unobtrusively informed him that the sun
had risen, then said nothing more. The heavy window coverings made it possible
for her to roam the castle during the day. They were pulled back at night. She
moved quietly, stealthily about the room. His eyes remained closed, his
thoughts on Jade, but he could still hear his efficient assistant in the
background.

When Jade finally stirred, later in the evening, Darien
opened his eyes. During Sheena’s visit, she’d left fresh towels, a satin robe
and slippers on the bench that ran the width of the sturdy, intricately
designed four-poster bed. He knew she wasn’t far away, likely in her own
sanctuary on the opposite side of his study, awaiting any command he might
have.

He moved from his chair to the edge of the mattress,
cautious not to jostle Jade.

Her eyes opened. “What do I smell?” she asked in a hoarse
voice, no doubt a result of her screams and dry throat, since she hadn’t had
anything to drink in nearly twenty-four hours.

But Sheena had thought of that as well. A crystal pitcher
sat on the large nightstand, along with a bowl of chicken broth.

“You’re hungry then?” he asked as he reached for a glass and
poured water for her.

“Starving. And thirsty.” She used her good hand to shift on
the bed and prop herself up against the mound of pillows. “How long have I been
asleep?”

“All night. All day. Into another evening. How do your hand
and wrist feel?”

“Better. I healed more than I’d anticipated.” She tried to
swallow, but apparently had no real reason for it.

He held the glass to her lips and she slowly sipped. When
she’d drained the contents, he set the drink aside and said, “Sheena brought
you soup. Are you able to eat some?”

Jade nodded. “Does she think of everything?”

He spared a glance at the items laid out neatly on the bench
and said, “Yes. Apparently, she’s fascinated by you. Your tenacity, in
particular.”

She let out a low grunt. “Right. I’m so focused, I pass out
from the pain.”

“She had no doubt of its severity. Yet you held on long
enough to start the healing process.”

“My back was killing me,” she said. “I wouldn’t be surprised
if there’d been a hoof print on my spine. I had to fix that first so I could
breathe and concentrate.”

“Your loss of blood alarms me,” he said, his voice turning
contemplative. “If you need to retain most of it to regenerate tissue and
whatnot, then I can understand having to keep it on your skin. But you can’t
keep it all in one place.”

She lifted the cloak covering her and groaned. “Your
bedding. I’ve made a huge mess.”

“I don’t care about that. And don’t think anything of it.”

“How can Sheena stand to come into this room? It must reek
of my blood.”

With a nod, he said, “She certainly has proven herself capable
of rising above. I’m extremely impressed. And pleased. She’s been very
resourceful.” She’d taken care of all the little necessities so Darien could
stay by Jade’s side. He’d reward the vampire for her loyalty—and for her
graciousness.

Reaching for the bowl she’d left behind, he said, “How about
you try this?”

Jade eyed the offering. “You have someone cook for you?
Demons eat human food?”

“Sure. We drink beverages as well. It’s vital for some, like
the shifters. A treat for others, like the vampires.”

Her teeth gnawed her lower lip, then she asked, “And what
sort of demon are you?”

“Eat, and I’ll tell you.” He lifted the spoon from the plate
on which the bowl sat. He dipped the utensil into the broth and then held it
steady for her to sip, repeating the process until she sighed contentedly.
Finally, he returned the dishes to the nightstand.

“That was more than chicken broth,” she said. “That was a
flavor explosion.”

He grinned. “I have a very competent staff.”

“Clearly.”

“Now,” he said as he refreshed her water glass and gave it
over. She still favored her good hand. “You want to know what type of demon I
am.”

“If you don’t mind helping me get my facts straight.”

“Not at all. I want you to know the truth.” He splashed a
bit of brandy into his own tumbler. “Actually, I’m not any particular species
of demon. I’m immortal by birthright. It’s hereditary in my family. A rare gift
bestowed upon a distant ancestor for saving a high-ranking demon from an unjust
death sentence.”

Her eyes narrowed on him. “You don’t take animal form, suck
blood or grow horns?”

With a shake of his head, he said, “Nothing like that at
all. What you see now is what I always am. It took two hundred years for me to
look like a thirty-year-old man, but since that time, the aging process has all
but come to a grinding halt.”

She studied him closely, then teased, “Just two gray hairs?”

“Where?” he quipped.

Her laugh warmed his insides. “Just kidding. You’ve managed
to keep them at bay.”

“Surprising.” He stood and paced alongside the bed.

In a quiet voice, Jade said, “I imagine it’s not easy ruling
an entire continent.”

“No.” He turned to face her. “Especially when it was
something I never wanted. Those are
my
trials and tribulations.”

Her brow furrowed. “When we were at the library, I made it
sound as though you haven’t a care in the world because you’re a demon.
Obviously, that’s not the case. I’m sorry I was so cavalier about your…kind.”

He gave this some thought, then returned to his spot on the
edge of the mattress. “Don’t apologize. We’re just as guilty. The demon
viewpoint of humans is that you’re weak of mind and body. But that’s not true.
The slayers and witches have proven it, the reason I have to be so diligent in
keeping them in line. But you’ve also demonstrated how strong the human spirit
can be.”

“I’m a little different than most humans.”

“Yes, you are.” He considered her abilities. “Do you
understand how you ended up with your particular gifts?”

She shook her head. “I only know that, similar to you, they
were passed from my father.”

He gazed at her, finding the sentiment intriguing. “We share
a number of connections.”

Shifting again on the bed so she sat up, she placed the
glass on the table and then trailed her fingers over his temple, whisking away
locks of hair. “Yes, we do. You were in my head again last night.”

“I couldn’t help it.” The torment of her previous pain made
his voice tight. “I needed to do something to try to alleviate as much of the
physical ache as I could, so you’d be able to rest.”

She smiled. “It worked. I felt at peace. Comforted.”

“I really should keep my distance. But you are so
irresistible…” He leaned toward her and his lips touched hers.

This time, he bypassed the restrained kiss he’d given her in
the library. His fingers tangled in her hair and his mouth sealed to hers but
for a few seconds. Then their lips parted and his tongue delved inside as he
kissed her deeply. Passionately. The way he’d dreamed of.

Her fingers curled around the material of his shirt, just
above his pectoral muscles. She returned the kiss with equal fervor. Her lips
were soft and her mouth warm and inviting. A moan lodged in her throat and it
made him hard for her.

He eased her back until she lay against the pile of pillows.
He deepened the kiss as his other hand shoved the cloak away and slid under the
hem of her sweater. His fingertips grazed her smooth flesh and she jolted.

Tearing her mouth from his, she gasped. “Darien.”

His cock throbbed at the way she said his name on such a
lusty sigh. Yet he pulled back. “You still need recovery time. I’m overwhelming
you.”

“Yes,” she said. Then shook her head. “No.” Her brows
knitted together as she seemed to fight for a breath. She held up her injured
hand and inspected it. “Some tenderness still and bruising. The bones are
healed though.” She wiggled her fingers to prove her point. “But I’m a mess.”

The bed was too, truth be told.

“Sheena,” he said in low voice, knowing she’d hear him with
her keen senses. She appeared instantly. “Have Jocelyn change the linens.”

“Of course, my Lord.” She left them as hastily as she’d
joined them.

Darien carefully scooped Jade into his arms and carried her
into his spacious bathroom. He set her on the ledge of the tub, encased in
marble.

“This room is unbelievable,” she said, openly marveling over
the opulence. “And this bathtub…it’s the size of a swimming pool.”

He chuckled as he turned on the water at three different
angles. “When have you seen a swimming pool?”

“In Lisette’s books.” She watched him for a moment, then
added, “You have running water to faucets?”

“Yes. I do enjoy some household amenities. Elevated water
towers with air pressure and manual pumps create the flow of water. Boilers
keep one tank hot. Be mindful of the temperature.”

“Duly noted,” she said. Then asked, “Why are you so adverse
to electricity?”

“I haven’t found a need for it yet.” The candles nestled in
the elaborate wall sconces provided dim lighting that lent a degree of sensual
ambience to every room in the castle. He found the atmosphere inviting.

Jade said, “Neither have I, but Lisette recovered a hair
dryer from pre-war days. I’d love to plug it in and give it a try. Hair this
long takes some time to dry.”

“After thirty-five years, I’m not sure you’d want to test
her relic. You might electrocute yourself.”

“Hmm. Yes, there is that.”

He stood and stripped off his shirt. Her gaze never left his
chest.

“You’re going to join me?” she asked, looking so hopeful, it
made his heart twist. He’d do anything she asked of him, he realized. But that
would hardly be prudent. He’d already crossed too many lines where she was
concerned.

“No,” he said regretfully. “I’m going to take a shower and
then eat something while you relax in the tub. Take your time. Enjoy. I’ll
bring you a book if you’d like.”

Her gaze swept the cavernous room. He always kept a low
blaze in the fireplace and Jocelyn, his personal housekeeper, had a penchant
for leaving large, fresh floral arrangements scattered about the room on
various end tables that accompanied the armless chairs in corners.

“You’d better check on me periodically. I could move in here
and you’d never hear from me again.”

He grinned. “If you like it, stay awhile. I’ll find you some
reading material.” He left the room and went into his study. He had a wide
range of novels from which to choose. Military documentaries, classic American
and British literature, world history… He had a feeling she’d studied up plenty
on the latter, given Lisette’s vast collection, so he selected something
different.

Returning to the bathroom, he handed over the book.

“
Pride and Prejudice
.” She frowned. “Never heard of
it.”

“That’s likely because Lisette’s idea of history doesn’t
date past the early 1900s. This book was first published in 1813. I think
you’ll find some interesting aspects to it.”

She flipped open the cover to find a loose sheet of paper.
“What’s Wikipedia?” she asked as she eyed the printout.

“Oh that. It used to be an online encyclopedia when we had
computers and the Internet. That document is a synopsis of the book.”

Her eyes widened as she scanned the text. “‘Obsequious
veneration’? ‘Pedantic nature’?” Staring up at him, aghast, she said, “I have
no idea what those words mean.”

He laughed. “Don’t worry about them. Just read it. The novel
is hailed as one of the most romantic of all time.”

“A romance novel?” Her brow raised. “In your personal
library?”

With a shrug, he said, “I like to stay abreast of all
genres. Besides, I rather enjoyed the 1800s.”

“Jesus, you’re old.”

Another hearty laugh filled the room. “And you have a thing
or two to learn about being couth.”