Frostbitten (12 page)

The man reached down, offered a hand, and Tal struggled with indecision. Friend or foe? Had her mother or father sent someone for her? No, Cikuq hadn’t sent anyone for her. Frost maybe, but not mommy dearest.

She searched deep inside and made a decision. She had limited powers, and the truth was she had a leg up on this deserted planet. She’d damn well take his hand and find out his reason for being here.

She reached up and found her hand engulfed in an enormous, gloved hand. The man’s strength was conveyed in his grip, and she couldn’t contain the tiny thrill that ran through her. Heat radiated up her arm, melting a portion of her that’d been frozen for over three centuries.

No, no, no!
Panic of an entirely different sort speared Tal.

He pulled her over the lip with an ease that spoke to the large muscles delineated with lust-inspiring clarity by his suit. The weird visor over his face hid his expression but his perusal was tactile. Tal shivered and inwardly cursed herself for it.

“Who are you?” she yelled over the wind.

The big male tilted his head and reached for her hat. She sidestepped the move and backed out of his range. He took a step forward and refused to let her leave his reach. Tiktok whined from nearby and brushed against her leg, the quiver of his body echoed in her heart.

Who was this man?

He reached for her hat again, and in a move that had her startled at his quickness, ripped it from her head, sending her hair flying in all directions.

He stilled. 

His hand tightened into a fist before he unclenched and moved it toward her. He stopped inches from her head, and Tal made her move. She ducked and stepped past him, turned at the last minute, and elbowed him in the kidney before she moved away several feet.

The man went to one knee, holding his side. Tal grinned.
Gutter fighter to the end, my man.
He’d decimate her in a hand-to-hand, but she was quick, and she’d found most people were unwary because of her size. She’d had to earn her way in the Unseelie court and learned the art of war from Iomlán’s bastard sons.

He struggled for several seconds and finally stood, removing his visor as he took a deep breath. His muscled chest rose and fell roughly, but it was his face that took her senses.

Beautifully sculpted mahogany, his lovely brown skin highlighted the planes of his cheekbones—a delicious backdrop to his full lips and gray-green eyes. He smiled, or maybe grimaced, but it displayed even, white teeth, strong teeth she wanted to rub her tongue across before she delved into that mouth.

Caribbean maybe? God, he was beautiful. Her hands itched for a canvas, yet even as the thought formed she realized he
was
the canvas, and her hands wanted to play, stroke, and mold his features.

Her breath hitched as his gaze met hers, and he cocked an ebony eyebrow. She went wet beneath her seal hide. Tal couldn’t move. She’d never experienced this type of immediate lust. Danger whistled around her, and all she wanted to do was climb up the incredible specimen before her and allow his hard edges to cradle her softer ones. She almost moaned the vision was so intense. Instead, she locked her knees and gazed at him, her brain daring him to do anything else to taunt her responses.

And, of course, once the dare had been given life in her thoughts, the man standing before her put it into action.

“You are Talini Frost?”

His voice kicked her in the solar plexus. She was afloat in a totally new sea—one of desire and need. Deep timbered, richly exotic—his voice tugged at her heart and her womb. The sound of it was soul-destroying. She closed her eyes and tried to force moisture back into her mouth; it had all departed to her nether regions.

He cleared his throat, and Tal realized she’d been devouring him with her eyes. She couldn’t muster any anger though—the man was simply too damn beautiful to be angry at him.

“Are you deaf?” Something wicked glinted in his eyes, and his mouth quirked up.

Oh, goody…there it was. Sweet, sweet anger. “I’m not deaf. Are you stupid?” Her stance widened in automatic response to his mocking.

He threw back his head and laughed. The sound rippled through her.

And just that quickly, the Inuit princess, who had been lost three hundred years ago, was lost again.

Long after she’d gone, the scent of Gina lingered in the air.

Luke sat alone in his stark office, heels kicked up on his desk, head turned to gaze out the window. It was late evening, the sun already sinking in the sky and lights beginning to appear in nearby office buildings. There was work he needed to do, yet he lacked concentration. All he could do was sit and remember how she’d looked.

Gina.

The memory of every beautiful woman from his past was eclipsed by her. He could recall his mate’s face down to the tiniest detail. He remembered every single freckle, every glimmer of gold in her extraordinary red hair. Hell, he even knew the shape of her teeth. Everything about her was imprinted on his brain.

But all of that was merely physical. He ached to know more about her. Did she have a temper? Surely she did. Not to be stereotypical, but with all of that red hair and Italian ancestry, she had to be a firecracker.

Lips twitching, he lifted his hand to his face. Anticipation at the battle of wills to come built within him. He’d shaken her hand when she’d left. The scent of her was still on his skin. He inhaled deeply, the sweet vanilla and luscious musk bringing him to a state of agonizing desire. What would it be like when it was the scent of her lust?

It was ridiculous how much he wanted her. He felt like a three-year-old seeing an enormous ice cream cone and then having it snatched away. When Dominic led her away from him, it had taken all he could do to watch them leave.

One thought repeated over and over again inside his head. She was his. Amazing, but true.

He’d never considered seeking out his mate. His career and Laura’s education had been his obsession since he was twenty-one. He’d wanted to get out of the hellhole he’d grown up in, the dilapidated shanty where they’d struggled to survive. An orphan since his late teens, he’d done all he could to keep his sister fed and clothed. He hadn’t considered having more out of life. But now the possibilities opened up before him.

His nearly obscene wealth had come about by accident. No one had suspected he would have such a head for business. But now there was something happening to him beyond his control. He hadn’t planned for Gina, but couldn’t envision not having her. Would she feel the same if she knew? Should he tell her?

His thoughts screeched to a halt. He couldn’t tell her. Not yet. Until L-12 went to trial, he couldn’t risk leaking the news. Dominic had only good things to say about his cousin, but what if Gina accidentally revealed their testing? No, he couldn’t tell her. Too much was at stake.