The moment he turned onto the road leading to the farm, a shadow passed over his car. Out of the corner of his eye he caught sight of a bird in flight, performing a lazy circle above him, glittering eyes watching his every movement. His heart jumped and then settled to a normal rhythm. The bird watching him didn’t mean Lev was alive. He knew his brother had many gifts, and one of those gifts allowed him to use the animals as spies.
The farm was a perfect place to hide. Judith had five sisters. Men like Lev looked for a woman who stayed below the radar—women such as those residing on the large farm. He would have to ask Judith about each of the women and make a guess as to which one his brother might choose to shelter him while he laid low and built a new cover for himself, one that permitted him to remain dead to his past life.
Was his brother close by? Was it possible he lived near Judith, that she actually knew him? He didn’t dare question her about a man, she’d close down. Lev would have made it understood that someone was hunting him and a woman like Judith would protect him. A slow exhale of anger shocked him.
He slowed his car and looked around, contemplating his reaction to his logical conclusions. Why would it make him angry that Lev would use one of these women—one of Judith’s sisters? Survival was paramount and any means used was considered justified. But was it? He had no real answers, or maybe he did, but he didn’t want to look too closely at what he was doing.
His gut knotted as several birds settled in the trees lining the drive as he went through the open, very ornate gate that guarded the farm. The moment his body actually came parallel to the metalwork of the gate, he felt the shift in energy and power around him. The energy field was tremendous, the power coming in waves and spreading throughout the acreage. He could actually feel his body responding, the pull was that strong. His own talents leapt toward that energy, met and absorbed it until his body vibrated with the need for action.
Without a doubt, the people on this farm were elements—strong elements. He hadn’t been wrong about Judith. It was no wonder he had reacted so strongly to her. Intellectually she would be compatible, someone who would keep up with his fast processing, his body certainly craved hers, but now he understood the full extent of the danger both of them were in. Whatever her element was, his psychic talents responded with tremendous power.
Stefan let his breath out more slowly and studied the birds. The shiny eyes were definitely watching him, adding to his conviction that his brother was somewhere in the vicinity. He had six brothers, and all of them were psychically gifted. Lev held dominion over animals. If he was here, where were the dogs? He would add to his security, using more normal animal means. That, again, would only be logical, so did that mean he was off base about the birds? He took another slow, careful look. There were several species, not one, and all were looking at him, giving him a slightly eerie feeling.
“So you’re here, then, Lev,” he murmured aloud.
Judith had really thrown him. Instead of being elated at being so close to finding his brother, Stefan had genuine misgivings. He didn’t want Lev using Judith.
As I am doing,
he reminded himself. Thomas Vincent was visiting her, not Stefan Prakenskii, no matter how much he wished it were so.
With the pad of his thumb, he touched the small scratch along his jaw Ivanov had given him the night before, a short, thin line that still burned. He was crazy for coming to this place. He shouldn’t have hope spreading through him like the warmth of the sun. There shouldn’t be this need building, or anticipation.
He wanted to blame it on Sea Haven. The sun shone on the water so that it sparkled like diamonds. The wind teased the leaves on the trees and birds played in the thermals, creating a lazy, inviting atmosphere. Storms came in fast and furious, giving free rein to a wild abandoned passion that couldn’t be matched. And there was an incredible woman who made him feel alive.
Swearing, he put his foot down firmly on the gas pedal. He should turn around, but he wasn’t going to. He was going to see her again and if there was a God, he’d better be helping both of them, because Stefan Prakenskii was about to fuck up his life very, very badly.
JUDITH’S
house was much larger than he expected. Gardens surrounded the two-story structure, brilliantly colored plants that appealed to the hidden artist him. He’d locked that part of himself away a long time ago, using it only as a tool of his trade, but for some reason, Judith had brought it crashing to the front, demanding release. His world needed to be a dull, emotionless place, yet all around him, colors were vivid and he couldn’t possibly deny the rush of heat infusing his veins as he parked and stepped out of the car.
His gaze swept her home, taking it all in, the fire equipment everywhere, hoses and sprinklers, as if she was obsessed with fire prevention. Was that part of her need to hide the intensity of the passion in her? There was a security system, and, although he wasn’t close enough, it appeared to be state-of-the-art. Was that because she feared a visit from Jean-Claude?
She was on the front porch, just standing there looking at him, her dark eyes serious and a little afraid, but shining with the same anticipation he couldn’t stop in himself. Her long hair was down, straight as a ruler, falling below her waist. She wore slim jeans and a thin pink tee. He could tell she was in her comfortable clothes, the ones she wore around her family. This was similar to the outfit she wore in the picture he carried of her.
That same expanse of smooth, inviting skin peaked out at him. A thin gold chain glittered against her flat belly, the links gleaming and polished, drawing his attention to the skin that looked softer than any rose petals. His mouth went dry. She was completely motionless, just waiting, like some pagan goddess, an offering. Her small, tucked in waist served to emphasize the fullness of her high, curving breasts, molded by the tee. But it was her exotic eyes that drew him in completely. She watched him from under long, feathery lashes, her dark eyes tempting him with a mixture of innocence and sensuality.
In spite of his determination, his heart rate accelerated and his body tightened. The impact of her watchful stare sank deep into his bones. A brand. Her brand. She left it on him so easily. He felt—
home
, whatever the hell that meant.
Judith.
Her name moved through his mind. The tenderness he felt shocked him. He hadn’t known there was such a thing in his makeup. He was in trouble—such trouble—and judging by that deer-caught-in-the-headlights look on her face, so was she.
She took a breath before starting down the stairs. He noted she was just as shaken as he was by the strange, compelling pull between them. He was damned glad he wasn’t the only one mired in quicksand. Her gaze never left his as she moved so gracefully down the steps, reminding him of a princess descending a throne.
“You came.”
Her voice wrapped him up in silk and satin. He studied her face. The need grew in her just as sharply as it did in him. She fought it, but she didn’t try to hide it from him.
“I couldn’t stay away.”
The stark raw truth stood between them. He felt the wind on his face like the promise of a kiss, like the touch of her fingers, the caress of her hair.
Judith stepped closer to him, her dark gaze drifting over his face, touching on the fresh scratch. Her fingertip brushed over that small wound so gently he felt his heart move.
“What happened?”
He didn’t want to lie to her. “Better if you don’t ask.”
He couldn’t help himself, he caught her wrist and tugged her a little closer, until he could feel the beckoning warmth of her body, unwilling—or unable—to let go of her. “I brought lunch.”
A small smile tugged at her mouth, lit the dark sobriety of her eyes. “Did you make it yourself?”
He almost denied the truth to give her a Thomas Vincent answer, but the truth slipped out. “Yes. I’m a good cook.”
Her eyebrow went up, and a small dimple appeared in her right cheek. He couldn’t help brushing his thumb across that little dent. Her breath caught in her throat.
“So it’s real.”
He didn’t have to ask what she meant; he knew. He nodded his head, holding on to her gaze, unwilling to let this moment between them slip away. “I didn’t think it was possible for me after all this time.” That too was a Stefan Prakenskii truth.
His heart clenched unexpectedly. Never in a million years had he thought it possible to feel the way he was. The euphoria should have gone away. The need inside him should have dissipated, not grown—and it was still growing. Being with her was like being caught in a dream world, a wild, impossible fantasy.
“What are we going to do, Thomas? Because this can’t happen.”
The little hitch in her voice, that innocent trust in him, the belief in her eyes that he was a good man, shook him as nothing else could have. She looked at him as if he could find a way to save them. There it was again, the need to be her white knight. His armor was tarnished a long time ago and he acknowledged to himself that he had no idea what he was going to do about their situation, but he wouldn’t walk away from her.
His fingers curled around the nape of her neck and he pulled her another step closer. Thomas Vincent was long gone and Stefan Prakenskii was not about to give up this woman, not here, not now.
“I’m going to kiss you.”
She blinked rapidly. Those long feathery lashes knotted his gut and tightened his groin. His physical reaction to her remained terrifying and exhilarating, even stronger than the night before. This woman had a hold on him that was unbreakable. He was already lost, craving the genuine emotions she brought out in him. She opened floodgates. His needs poured out of him around her.
“Do you think that’s a good idea?” Her voice was no more than a soft whisper, a caress that teased his cock into aching thickness.
“No.” He knew better. He knew he’d be damned for all time. “But I’m going to kiss you anyway.”
“It might be awful,” she pointed out with a brief flare of optimism.
He had to smile. “Perhaps. We can only hope.”
There was a small moment of hesitation. Her teeth sank into her lower lip, betraying her nerves. She nodded slowly, knowing just as he did, that it was a
very
bad idea. “Okay then.”
He stared into her eyes for a long time. Forever would never be long enough for him to live there. Right there in her eyes. He saw inside of her, into something so beautiful it made his heart ache. She didn’t move, didn’t pull away, just absorbed him in the same way he needed to absorb her.
He was in no hurry. Craving rose like the sun, hot and bright and shocking. He wanted to savor this moment. Her acceptance of him. He felt her trembling—or maybe that was him. The great Stefan Prekenskii, seducer of women, trembling, needing.
Her tongue touched her bottom lip, her breasts rose and fell beneath that thin tee. Inexorably, he drew her another step closer to the heat of his body. She blinked, but didn’t look away. Her scent enveloped him. The faint aroma, fresh and elusive, was a fragrance he expected he might encounter on an island paradise. Her hair fell over his arm, soft and unbelievably silky. Every detail burned into his mind, the individual strands that brushed his face as he bent slowly toward her. The flutter of those feathery lashes, her lips parting, the swift inhale.
His mouth settled on hers, the softest of touches. A slight brush only, just to savor that first feel of how soft her lips were—to test the strong magnetic pull between them. He should have known better—should have known it would never end there. He should have heeded all the warning signs—and there had been many. In one moment of honest clarity, he had known but it didn’t matter. He wanted this and, once he’d touched her, there was no way to stop. Both of them were falling and it was too late to save them now that they’d made that first slight contact.
He pulled her across that breath of air separating them, tight, so that her body was imprinted on his, all that soft skin, the lush curves, his free hand sliding inevitably to that expanse of tempting bare skin. His fingertips bit into her waist, slid over her belly and caressed her hip as his mouth took hers.
The world around them burst into a fiery blaze. The heat soared until he could hear the roaring and crackling of flames. He’d inadvertently struck a match and lit a stick of dynamite. Her body melted against his while his heart roared in his ears and he lost himself completely in the beauty and wonder of her mouth. She tasted a little like an expensive champagne, going straight to his head and hitting him hard. She made him weak and he knew without a shadow of a doubt that she belonged in his arms.
He couldn’t stop kissing her, over and over until they both were out of breath and their bodies were on fire. He found that small golden chain and he tugged and rolled the gold between his fingers the way he needed to do to her nipples. He ached to touch her, to memorize her, to devour her inch by slow inch. He tried not to be rough, but his mouth had a mind of its own, each kiss feeding his hunger beyond endurance.
His hand left her nape, fist bunching her hair, pulling her head back, taking what was his.
His.
Men like him didn’t have homes. They didn’t own anything they couldn’t walk away from in an instant. All the money he had acquired over the years by fair or foul means stayed in bank accounts no one knew about, never to be spent on the luxury of a home—or a woman.
Yet, this woman belonged to him—was made for him. He didn’t know anything about her and yet he knew everything. He kissed his way to her chin and back up to the heat of her mouth. He couldn’t resist her mouth and evidently she didn’t have any more of a sense of self-preservation than he did because she opened to him instantly, feeding on his hunger, returning it tenfold.
Every cell in his body responded to her.
Knew.
He knew without a single doubt that she was born to be his. Kissing her only got better. His fist tightened, holding her still. A warning signal in the back of his mind brought him close enough to the surface to remind him Thomas Vincent would never kiss her with such confidence. He wouldn’t grow rough and demanding. He would never be so aggressive. Stefan ruthlessly pushed the warning away and took her mouth, exploring, teasing, demanding.
Sliding willingly into a deep abyss.