Authors: Cindy Paterson
She had to admit, she was excited to fly on a private jet. When in her lifetime did an opportunity like this come up? Never. A local artist barely making
ends meet, and here she was getting on a plane with the most handsome and . . . delectable man she’d ever met. Yeah, she’d forgiven him for taking her blood. After contemplating the situation and reliving the memory, she knew that he had done it for her. All she had to do was see his eyes, the sorrow in them, and she knew that he had hated that he’d been forced to do it.
“Wow,” Danielle exclaimed as she peered around at the luxury of leather lounge chairs, a bar,
flat-screen TV. All the blinds on the windows were firmly shut, but the lighting gave ample illumination. She decided to sit in a seat facing backwards; after all, when on an economy flight did you get to do that? Balen took the seat across from her; a low table sat between them.
The pilot came on
, announcing their departure, and requested seat belts be fastened. Danielle sat back and smiled. Okay, everyone had to experience this once, lots of leg room and better than sitting in a La-Z-Boy in your own living room.
“You have no fear of flying?” Balen asked as the plane careened at a sharp angle into the air. His legs stretched out and he appeared as at ease as she was.
“God, no. It’s remarkable. To think all this steel can actually sail through the sky. Incredible. I must confess though, I’m gonna hate flying economy after this.”
Balen chuckled. “Then we shall always fly this way, my sweet.”
My sweet.
She loved his endearments, the way they rolled off his tongue as though he’d been calling her those words for years. What concerned her was how he spoke as if they would be together forever. She wanted him to be right, but she was scared that the six-month axe would fall and have her running as fast as she could for singlehood.
She’d like the idea of a relationship and it was obvious that what they shared was bigger, stronger and more powerful a connection than anything she’d ever experienced. But was that because of the
so-called Bonding spell or was this real? She wanted to be with him, touch him, learn about his life. Could she make them last? What would happen when the Wraiths caught up to them? The Wraiths sounded scary and powerful as hell. Just that one Genevieve appearing out of mist had thrown her for a loop. She couldn’t imagine what the rest of them were like. Would they order his death? What then? It would be like her parents all over again. She could never live like her father, desolate and struggling to breathe as each day grew longer and more miserable without his wife. No, she promised she’d never allow that to happen to herself.
“Planning on traveling a lot?” she asked.
“We shall do whatever you wish,” Balen said.
“And what about
these Wraith guys?” She hated to bring up the subject, but the reality was that they were running. Balen was a wanted man and she was Bonded to him. He could be taken away before she was transformed. She could die. She ran her hands up and down her arms. Balen leaned forward and took her hands in his, a slow caress over her knuckles.
“We will survive this.”
His soft, calm voice soothed every fear. But he could never soothe the fear she held cemented in her heart. Imprinted in her since childhood, the sorrow she saw every time she looked at her father’s face. Every second she stayed with Balen was making it more difficult to do what she must. “I wish I knew what to expect. I mean, I used to live day by day, you know, not wondering what the future holds, but now—I mean after Ryszard—it changed. I hated that I couldn’t remember and now I hate that I do. Boy, am I screwed up.”
“Just confused,” Balen offered.
She didn’t know why she started to tell him. Why she had this need to spill her guts, but the words came tumbling out and they wouldn’t stop. “I still feel his hands on me. The sound of chains. My wrists hurt sometimes, like they’re burning. I . . . the coldness, it bothers me. I was constantly cold. For weeks I sat in the tub trying to get rid of that feeling. You’d think after going through something like that . . . well, that you’d appreciate life more. I don’t know. I mean, I was glad to have survived and all, but a part of me—I want to go back to being carefree and not scared anymore. I hate that I panic at small spaces or when I hear certain sounds or smell black licorice.
“
It eats away at me and yet . . . I feel selfish because I did live and you—you sacrificed yourself for me. You went through years of . . . I’m guessing hell.” She breathed out a big sigh. “When I flipped out at the blood thing, it wasn’t just because you did it, it was because I was ungrateful that you did it. You did it to save me. Guilt, I guess.” She felt his hands curl around her own. “I hate him. I hate that you saw what happened. That you heard me scream. I never heard you scream and he . . .”
“Ah, little one,” Balen reached forward and cupped her chin. She loved when he did that. “I can never take away what happened to you.” He paused. “What you endured . . . but it is such a small part of us. Let it be a small part of us, my sweet. A moment in time that we survived, conquered and have grown into different people because of.”
He was right of course. It was a moment in a lifetime and yet it ruled her thoughts, her actions, words, feelings. God, she had to get over it. It happened. Worse shit had happened to others in this world. She lived. She survived.
So suck it up.
Balen ran a finger down the side of her cheek and she looked up into his warm green eyes. “Beautiful,” he whispered.
It was one word. And it filled her with immense warmth, not because of the word and what it meant necessarily, but how he said it, how his eyes looked and how he touched her. How could he think she was beautiful when inside, she was an empty shell? Filled with fears, wearing a mask every day pretending to be strong and carefree. But the reality was that she was terrified. Terrified of what she felt for this man.
She
’d created the persona of someone who lived by the seat of her pants, but it was just that—a persona. She’d quit everything she tried ever since she could remember. She begged and pleaded with her dad to take jazz class, and after three classes, she quit. She begged him to let her join a soccer team, then quit after the first game. Then there was the idea that she’d be a vet like Anstice, go to university, the whole deal, but after one year at school she dropped out. Her father never once gave her heat about it, supported whatever decision she made, but she knew that he’d been disappointed.
The only thing she stuck with her whole life was her painting
, and it had paid off. She had her own gallery, made a decent living, but she still quit relationships.
Balen leaned back in his seat, his eyes closed and body relaxed. Would she quit him? Once this Bond stuff was settled, would she pull away? It was difficult to think that she’d ever deny his lips, his hands, his body, but wasn’t it that way with all of them? She had been so hot for Gregg and then
, wham—don’t touch me syndrome.
“Stop thinking so much,” Balen said, his eyes still closed.
“Were you reading my thoughts?”
Please say no
.
A slight upwards tug on his lips. “No, but your body is as tense as a deer being hunted.”
“But your eyes are closed,” she said, trying to ease the tension from her muscles.
“I can feel everything about you.” He opened his eyes. “And if you don’t relax
, I will find a way to make you.”
Danielle smiled. “And that would entail?”
“Sex,” he said.
Her body instantly heated at the thought. Maybe that was what she needed. “I’ve never done it in a plane.”
“Is that so?” Balen said, his eyes flashing with mischief. He stretched out his hand and her heart slammed against her chest.
“The pilots . . .” She glanced at the closed door.
“Are flying the plane,” he said. “Come here, sweet one.”
She hesitated. What was she hesitating for? Her body was already heating up
, and she itched to run her fingers across his flesh.
“You’re thinking too much again,” Balen said
, taking her hand and urging her over to him.
She stood between his legs and his hands rested on her hips. Sweet moisture pooled between her legs. “Balen you should know someth
—”
“I know everything I need to know about you. And anything more we have a lifetime to explore.” His hands slipped under her shirt and rubbed against her skin. She sucked in her breath. “Take off your jeans, Danielle.” His hands roamed up beneath her shirt, his thumb grazing her nipple
, and then he reached behind to unclasp her bra.
She shivered, her body reacting instantly to him. But something was holding her back. Her mind. It was reeling; confused. A lifetime, he said. Her heart began pounding erratically at the thought. The word was a lead weight on her ankle
, pulling into the depths of sorrow.
What if they remained Bonded and she had no escape? He wanted commitment; a lifetime. T
hey were headed to his homeland, by God, to make her one of them. Would that mean she was tied to him forever? Could she escape him if she wanted to?
She fell backwards, out of his grasp
, and he frowned. “Ladies room,” she quickly said and bolted for the back of the plane.
She dove into the bathroom and slammed the door. As soon as it clicked shut
, she realized the mistake. Panic grabbed hold and her heart pounded, tingling began in her limbs, her breath in short gasps. She threw open the door. Okay, calm and in control. She wasn’t trapped. She looked around the bathroom and saw nothing to help with her predicament. She took off her shoe and put it in the door so it wouldn’t shut all the way.
She leaned up against the sink and covered her face with her hands. She couldn’t do this. She knew nothing about these people. She had thought at the time it was an excitin
g idea, becoming a Senses, but now . . . it would change her life. She’d be committed to them; to him. That was if he didn’t die. And if he did live, could she be with Balen for the rest of her life? What if she abhorred his touch in six months like the others?
She turned on the tap and splashed her face with cold water
, then looked in the mirror and cringed. She saw fear. Afraid of hurting him, hurting herself. Of where they were going, what they were doing and who they were running from.
She lowered her eyes from the sight and splashed more cold water on her face, trying to wash away what she was feeling.
She jerked as hands came around her waist, the click of the door shutting behind him. She should’ve locked the door, but the thought of getting trapped in here was too overwhelming. He pulled her back against his chest, his arms wrapping her in a warm embrace. She saw them in the mirror. His head lowered and his lips sliding across her neck. She gripped the edge of the sink.
“Balen,” she whispered. “The door. Open . . .”
“I told you to stop thinking,” he said and then swung her around and lifted her up onto the sink. He reached behind and shut off the tap. “Relax.” He brushed her hair back from her face and moved between her legs. “You said it was okay like this,” he said.
She
nodded her heart pounding. “The door,” she murmured.
He opened the door and kicked her shoe back in place. “Better?”
She nodded.
His hands came up under her shirt and cupped her
breasts, thumbs tweaking her nipples. She gasped, her fingers curling around the edge of the counter.
“You ignored my instructions.
” He leaned forward and lowered his voice next to her ear. “So I will make you stop thinking.”
Before she could say anything, his mouth came down on hers with possession, tongue diving forth
, taking away any thoughts of the future and throwing her mind into a sweet rapture of desire. She had no time to think of anything but him and his mouth as he ravished her.
She closed her eyes, her hand reaching up to grab his neck and bring him closer. His scent slammed into her, a yearning claiming every inch of her body.
“We have this,” Balen whispered. “And it has nothing to do with the Bonding spell, my love.”
Balen undid her jeans and slowly slipped them and her black panties down her legs until they fell to the floor, his lips never once leaving her skin, tasting, licking. God, he wanted to fuck her. Drive into her and make her his. But he held back. She needed slow. She had been through so much. Her scent told him she was terrified of what they shared. Well, he intended to prove to her that it was more than a stupid spell. Once she became one of them and the Bond was broken, she’d figure it out, that this . . . this undeniable connection had nothing to do with some bloody spell.
His fingers slipped lower and he found her wet and groaned. Slow, he reminded himself. Her hands found
the button on his jeans, and he thought he’d give away to the animal nature when she slid her hands inside and released him. Air sucked from his lungs at her gentle touch, gripping him, fingers wrapping around his erection.
“God, you drive me crazy,” Balen murmured. He took her mouth once more, groaning as she moved her hand up and down. His release was so close and he wasn’t even inside her yet. He couldn’t wait. Shit, he needed her now. He
pushed her hand away and positioned his himself against her.