Secret Worlds (259 page)

“Ah, I see.” She bit her lip, her gaze drawn once again to the expanse of his chest, and gave in to temptation. She ran both hands over his pecs, nearly sighing at the feel of hot, hard muscles beneath her palms. A small noise strangled in his throat.

“And why is it that you’re so, well, muscular? Were you always this strong?” She was buttering him up with compliments, but she
was
genuinely interested. She’d get to the real questions soon enough.

He shrugged. “Aye.”

Wow, so this is how he had looked three hundred years ago? Three hundred years. Or older? Much, much older? The idea was so terrifying and so insane that her mind backed away from it immediately. It couldn’t be, and with him here to distract her, it was easy to force something so awful to the back of her mind.

***

He was a dead man.

Cadan stared at Diana perched above him and all his good intentions to maintain his distance for her safety fled his mind. He knew,
knew
, that if his judgment was compromised again as it had been so many years ago, she would suffer an equally horrific fate.

But everything about her clouded his senses. The feel of her, the look of her, the smell of her, and the sound of her all reminded him that it had been a long time since he’d been with a woman. Even longer since he’d been with one who made him feel more than simple lust. Two thousand years, to be precise. And Diana was turning out to be more than he’d thought. Much more.

Now he was pinned beneath her, the heat of her making his cock twitch. He had to get up, push her off, but she immobilized him. Not with her strength—hers was nothing compared to his—but with her will. Just a minute longer. Then he would move.

But she leaned down then, pressing herself against his chest, and whispered close to his ear, “Are
all
the guardians built like you?”

The feel of her warm breath, the brush of her lips, made a shudder run down his spine. Unable to stop himself from experiencing this pleasure just once, he ground himself against her. He forced himself to still, but not before he heard the small noise of surprised approval at his ear.

Fuck, what was her game?
But he nodded once in answer to her question, surprised to hear her laugh low in her throat.

“Oh, I don’t think so,” she purred as she rubbed herself against him. “I think that you—” She ran her hands down his sides and his muscles tensed at her touch. “—are unique.”

She began to press small, hot kisses along the side of his neck, lightning shooting through him to his cock every time he felt her mouth. He groaned when her tongue darted out, tasting him.

“Make me yours, Cadan.”

Aye. Mine. Always mine.

“Who
are
you?” His voice was raspy, nearly broken. He’d have been embarrassed if he’d had any blood left in his brain to keep it operational.

“I’m afraid I don’t know what you mean.” Her voice was husky, desire thick in her tone. She glanced down at his mouth.

“You’re different—” He nearly groaned when her small pink tongue darted out and wetted her top lip. “—than you were before.”

She smiled and raised a hand to run it through his hair. “You caught me by surprise, then, that’s all. This time—” She fisted her hand in his hair. “—I’m in control.”

The warrior in him, the leader, the commander, boiled at the idea, but the man in him, the one trapped beneath the temptress who licked and bit and stared at him with endless eyes, thought,
Aye.

The internal battle tore at him, one side determined to throw her off and tear her clothes away, pounding into her until she begged, the other desperate to stay beneath her and see what she did next. A small voice, that of reason and logic, told him to get away from her, quickly, before this went too far.

“And I suppose that I want to know something now,” she said.

“What do you want to know?” Alarm pushed at the edges of his desire.

“What is it about you that’s so familiar to me?”

And with that, he remembered his reservations. She’d remember who he was. Who she was. And then everything would be over. Diana—his hope of atoning for his sins—everything would be destroyed because he couldn’t keep his cock in his pants.

“Nothing. There’s nothing about me. And this is over.” He used guilt to crush his regret as he dragged his hands from her full hips up to her waist and lifted her off him.

“What?” Surprise was clear in her voice as he set her on the ground next to him and surged to his feet.

“I doona want you.” His heart tore at the sight of her looking up at him, shock in her eyes, but he forced himself to spin on his heel and walk out of the gym.

Lightning struck for Diana again three days later. She’d come to the gym a bit early today because she just had to get out of the library. The books had revealed no clues, and worse, she was almost certain that some of them were missing from the shelves. The only person who could have moved them was Cadan.

The idea that he might be hiding things from her stressed her to the point that physical activity seemed like a really good idea. So she’d come here to practice with the small sword he’d loaned her a couple of days ago. She was a natural. Not like someone with unusual skill. Like someone who’d had otherworldly powers handed down from a past life.

She was certain now that her body remembered things that her mind didn’t. As she stared up at the wall of weapons that had distracted her from her practice, she was having the same feeling she’d had when she’d looked upon the image of Verulamium.

“What are you doing here so early?” Cadan asked from behind her.

She jumped, startled out of her trance. She hadn’t seen him since this morning in the library. They’d circled each other the last three days. He, probably wary that she’d jump him again, and she, scared of falling for him when she knew there was more that he wasn’t telling her. He’d kissed her twice now. He wanted her, yet he kept pushing her away. Maybe it was because of university rules, as he’d said. But she couldn’t shake the feeling that he was hiding something.

“I’m looking at that sword,” she said.

She pointed up at a blade high on the wall. It was in a cluster of the oldest weapons in the room. Its dented and scratched iron blade spoke of the lives it must have taken, though the hilt, with its swirling scrollwork, was still in fairly good condition. More than that, the decoration could be used to date the weapon.

“I recognize that sword,” she said. “I know I do. Where is it from?”

***

Dare he tell her the truth? It was a distinctive blade; it wouldn’t take her long to catch him if he lied. And after the lie about Verulamium, Cadan couldn’t risk another. Yet, the idea of telling another lie made his stomach turn. He told himself he was doing it to protect her, that she wasn’t ready to face Boudica’s challenges. But it still made him ill to lie to her repeatedly.

“It’s a sword from southern Britain.” He settled on truth and hoped she wouldn’t make the connection.

“Can I hold it?” Her voice was quiet, thoughtful.

Nay.
“Aye.”

He strode over and reached up, carefully drawing the old sword away from the wall. It was a typical Celtic sword from Boudica’s homeland, one that she would have seen her men use on the battlefield. Her blade had been different, suited to her size and status, but this simple implement told tales of her past life as well.

He placed it gently in her palm, and she gasped slightly when it touched her skin. Her fingers closed tightly around the hilt.

“It’s familiar,” she said, awe in her voice as she slowly twirled a figure eight in the air. “I recognize this type of sword.”

“This type of blade was used for a long stretch of time.”

“Yes, but not as long as the stretch of time I’ve been researching. A few hundred years, no more.”

“More or less.”

“What’s the date on it?” Her gaze was clear and penetrating as she looked at him.

Gods, what should he say? Telling her could lead her closer to her identity, but the sword was so distinctive that twenty minutes with a weapons book and she’d know. If she ferreted out the truth, she’d never trust him again. Hell, she barely trusted him as it was.

“No’ sure, exactly.” It slipped off his tongue.
Coward
.

She arched an eyebrow. “Really? I have a hard time believing that. Everything in here is organized by type, and from the looks of the styles and conditions of the weapons, by date as well.”

Damn it. He glanced hastily up at the wall as if to check for a date. If he lied now, she’d know he was up to something. “Ah, around one hundred AD, give or take a century.”

She looked up at him sharply. “One hundred AD?”

He jerked his head in assent.

She flipped the sword and turned it around on him until the blade pressed into his stomach. He froze. If she wanted to pierce him, fine. It wouldn’t kill him, and maybe he deserved it. For lying—or hell, for telling the truth and putting her that much closer.

“You’re going to take me to Verulamium. I know it’s important, and you’re going to take me.”

“Nay, I’m no’.”

She pushed the blade harder, glancing down at it apprehensively before glaring back up at him. It didn’t break the skin, but it was close.

“You are, or I swear to God I’m going by myself.”

“And how would do that?”

“Steal your car. Call your boss. Walk out the front door and hope for the best. I’d figure it out.”

She was bluffing. That was it. But her eyes gleamed with a slightly crazed, desperate look. He shifted uncomfortably. The lassie was trouble. “You would no’.”

“Try me. I’m not going to sit around here while you hide things from me. And don’t think I’m not aware that’s what you’re doing. That’s twice you’ve refused to take me, and twice I’ve found something that points me in the direction of the first century AD. I’d bet tenure on the fact that I was a Celt, but there were a hell of a lot of Celts. I want to know why I’m drawn to a Roman fort.”

“Well, you weren’t Roman.”

“Don’t try to distract me. Why are you keeping things from me? Are you on my side or not?”

He’d have been angry that she questioned his loyalty if he wasn’t already burning with the deceit. “I’m just trying to keep you safe.”

He knocked the dull-edged sword aside and pulled her to him. She was delicate under his hands and it made his stomach churn with fear for her. “Do you no’ get it? That’s the most important thing.
Keeping you safe.
”

“I get that.” Her breath was short, her eyes wide. “And I appreciate it. I do. But it can’t be at the expense of me making my own decisions. If we’re careful getting there, then the demons won’t know to follow us. I don’t have a death wish. But I do want answers and this sword and Verulamium are the closest I’ve come to getting them.”

“Fine,” he said. There was no way around it now. “I’ll take you if I can get my colleague Esha to create a portal to take us directly there. That way the demons canna track us. It’s the safest way. Her power level fluctuates. If she doesn’t have enough, we wait. I won’t risk you over this.”

Esha stared at the text on her phone, puzzling over the note from Warren.

“A meeting?” she said to the cat, not particularly concerned that he was paying her absolutely no attention. “Warren wants to have a
meeting
with me? Like, we’re trying to nail down the problems with the budget before the end of the quarter type meeting?”

Too weird. No one ever asked her to a group gathering, and his message had specifically said
join us in a meeting
. Her job never involved meetings, primarily because fueling her own power meant taking it from the souls of others. Not that she could help it, but still, they didn’t like it.

Despite her flaws—which she didn’t actually agree were flaws—the university had given her a place to live and a pretty nice salary when they’d figured out the extent of her power. She could manifest her every desire, so long as she was fueled up on borrowed power. Once she’d proven herself trustworthy, her unique ability to see true evil had given her a
carte blanche
license to kill the super baddies whenever she came across them.

She’d initially thought that Warren avoided her because of the way she refueled her power. But then she’d realized that she didn’t affect him. Now she had no idea why he avoided her. He was the only Mythean she’d ever met who wasn’t affected by her powers. She could actually get close to him. It was probably half the reason she was interested in him. Hell, who was she kidding? She’d probably be mooning after him no matter what.

Frowning, she glanced down at the text message. It must be about Erebus, though she was surprised he hadn’t texted her the news to avoid having to see her.

“Well, Chairman, it looks like we’re going to our first-ever business meeting.”

With disgust, she suppressed the thrill of delight she felt at being asked—by Warren—to come to the meeting.

Idiot.

An hour later, Esha strode through the open door of Warren’s office. He and an unknown woman sat at the small round table in the corner.

“So, what’s up?” she asked as she walked over to the table.

Warren stood to greet her, but rather than shake her hand, he gestured toward the woman. “Esha, this is Aerten. She’s a goddess of fate and head of the Praesidium.”

Whoa
. Goddess was right. Esha reeled from the hit of power she got off Aerten. It felt like the hit she got off her only friend Andrasta, the Celtic goddess of war. She didn’t get to see her much, but when she did, boy, was it something.

Esha smiled somewhat drunkenly at the serene figure who’d also risen to greet her. “Hi,” she said, holding out her hand. “Celtic, right?”

The woman nodded as she sat. Esha took the chair next to her. “Well done of you to know. Sometimes it seems there are so many of us from various faiths that it can be hard to keep straight.”

That was the truth. “I studied up once I got to the university and realized how much there was to the world.”

And you’re colleagues with my friend, which I’m not allowed to tell you since it would ruin her trips sneaking out of Otherworld .