Until Forever (6 page)

Her bra. He was staring at her bra, and she could see it in his expression, the moment he decided he had figured out how to get rid of that too.

Her arms came up immediately to cross in front of her. Pillaging and raping might have
been standard practice in his time, but this wasn’t his time, it was hers.

Sternly now, and desperately trying to overlook the fact that she was standing there only half-dressed, she said, “I don’t know what you think you’re doing, but you can’t do it. You can’t just take anything you want here. You have to ask—and my answer is no.”

He merely grinned at that. “Then why would I be so foolish as to ask?”

“You’re missing the point—”

“Nay, I understand you plainly. You wish me to grovel, yet that I will not do. The last wench to possess my sword also uttered such nonsense. But you, lady, were warned that I have a large appetite.”

“For food,” she quickly reminded him.

“And fighting…and women. And it has been too long ere I have enjoyed the pleasures of a comely wench.”

“I’m sorry to hear that, but you’ll have to continue your abstinence a little longer.”

“I think not.”

He sat down on her side of the bed then, and the next thing she knew, two hands were gripping her hips and drawing her forward between his spread legs, closer, then closer still, until she lost her balance and fell toward him. She heard his laugh just before her chest collided with his, and then he rolled, placing her beneath him on the bed.

Stimuli came at her in waves—his weight, very real, very solid, very heavy; his rough cheek scratching against hers as his mouth
sought and found her lips. There was nothing even remotely insubstantial about the body pressing her down into the mattress. And the lips moving over hers were the most sensual she’d ever tasted.

The fear she still felt had to be contributing to the riot of sensations going on inside her. Her heart had never pumped so hard. Her blood was racing, causing a tingling feeling throughout her body. And when his teeth tugged at her lower lip just before he sucked on it, she came damn close to…

She couldn’t even find her voice when his mouth left hers to drift down to her neck. She could have demanded he stop what he was doing, could have regained some meager control of the situation, but she was too busy experiencing the uniqueness of having her whole body come wildly alive.

And then one side of her bra was being pulled down. He was using his teeth to do it. His large hands were gripping her sides, near her breasts, but not quite touching them. That his fingers were so close was driving her crazy. But when her breast popped free, the edge of the lacy material beneath it now, pushing it up, her nipple puckered immediately. No sooner did she gasp at the tightening there than her breast was surrounded by the heat of his mouth, completely surrounded, and being slowly drawn on.

She moaned, arching toward that heat. She couldn’t help it. The chemistry was right. For the first time, it was exactly right, and she
was combusting. And then he was looking down at her, grinning down at her actually.

“Still think me a ghostly being, lady?”

It sank in slowly, finally reaching her befuddled mind, but when it did, she felt—she wasn’t sure what, but it wasn’t nice. He’d done what he just did merely to prove to her that he could. He wasn’t actually going to rape her—or make love to her, however she chose to look at it. And now that her senses were returning to normal, she didn’t know if she should be disappointed or relieved.

“You have been twice warned, wench. Summon me again, and you will see to my needs, all of them.”

“I’m supposed to offer you a fight also? Do I get to use your sword for it, or do you?”

She could have said the devil made her say that, but the fact was, she was getting angry. How dare he put such a price on the information she wanted?

And he had the nerve to answer her with “There is only one sword I will wield against you.”

That grin of his was back in spades. “Viking crudeness I can do without, thank you,” she replied stiffly. “And you’ve worn out your welcome, Thorn Blooddrinker.”

She pushed against him as she said it. It was galling to know that she couldn’t have budged him if the decision hadn’t been his to move off her. But he did move, until he was sitting on the edge of the bed again. There he glanced back at her, his eyes holding hers
with an intensity that stopped her breath again. But then his gaze dropped to her breast, which was still exposed, and she realized that she hadn’t moved a single limb yet herself.

She groaned and scrambled off the bed, yanking her bra back into place, and practically ran for her wardrobe across the room. Behind her, she heard his deep laughter. The sound sparked her anger like nothing else could. But before she could turn around to blast him with what she was now feeling, the thunder cracked in the distance.

She didn’t have to turn to know he was gone. Her shoulders slumped with…relief, of course. Yes, definitely relief. She wasn’t going to bemoan missed opportunities. Dealing with a thousand-year-old jerk was more than she was capable of, obviously. He could rot in his mythical Valhalla before she’d be foolish enough to summon him again.

F
or five days, Roseleen managed not to think about Thorn Blooddrinker’s ultimatum. She tried not to think about what he’d done to her on her bed too, but that wasn’t as easy to ignore, when what she’d felt during those few minutes had been so wildly exciting, so uniquely pleasurable, she simply couldn’t get it out of her mind. She could blame her fear for the heightened feelings she had experienced, and yet—she’d be lying to herself if she tried to deny that he had aroused her in a really big way.

And she still didn’t know
what
he was.

It had been easier to accept that he was a ghost. Other people believed in them, swore they’d seen them. She’d merely been in the skeptical show-me-before-I’ll-believe-it group. Even an extraterrestrial being was more plausible because, again, so many people believed they were real. But an immortal? Someone who could live a thousand years and not
show a gray hair for it? Someone who claimed to live in a mythical heaven exclusive to Vikings? No way.

Then who was Thorn Blooddrinker? An eccentric practical joker who could afford the kind of expensive imaging equipment that could fool her into thinking he could appear and disappear because of a cursed sword? He
was
real. There was nothing ghostly about that body that had covered hers, or that mouth that had felt so hot and…

She knew how she could prove it. There could be equipment set up in her room, in every room of her house, for that matter, even in the car she was using. She wasn’t going to tear her house apart looking for it. That wouldn’t be necessary. She’d just take her sword out to a secluded part of the countryside where nothing else was around.

And if he did show up again? That would prove…at least that he wasn’t a high-tech illusion. It still wouldn’t prove exactly
what
he was, but that was just one of the many things she still had to question him about. If he showed up, if she was actually willing to risk it again, she’d have his ultimatum to deal with first, and that was the only thing on her mind now.

Summon me again, and you will see to my needs, all of them
.

The mere thought of it, seeing to his needs,
his sexual needs
, caused a hot fluttering deep in her belly. It almost made her wish that she wasn’t burdened with the strict morals her fa
ther had imparted to her. It even had her questioning her state of virginity, when she never had before. After all, how many other twenty-nine-year-old women could claim they’d never made love with a man? She’d have a hell of a time finding one in this day and age.

The sixties and seventies had been responsible for the sexual revolution. In the eighties, women had gained power and made strides toward attaining equality, and the process of changing people’s attitudes about women’s role in society had continued. Women had gained a lot, there was no question of that, but they’d lost true “gentlemen” in the process.

Barry was a prime example of the kind of man that had replaced the gentleman. He’d never opened doors for her, or seated her at a dinner table before he seated himself, or insisted on unlocking her door the few times he’d seen her home. Usually, he hadn’t even walked her to her door when they’d dated. He would simply meet her wherever they were going,
and
expect her to pay her own way. And she’d thought nothing of it. She was a child of the seventies, after all, even if she was very old-fashioned in one aspect of her life.

That one aspect had made her nervous, and embarrassed, when she had thought she was going to marry Barry. She’d dreaded the prospect of explaining her unusual condition to him on their wedding night. The irony was,
men no longer expected to marry virgin brides. Disbelief was the very least she could have expected from Barry. Laughter and ridicule were also possibilities. No, she definitely had not been looking forward to justifying her morals.

And he had never questioned her refusal to sleep with him. He’d put it down to her reserved nature—he’d said as much—and she’d let him think that’s all it was. Of course, he’d never been that hot to get her into bed anyway, and she should have questioned that herself, though she’d merely been relieved at the time that he wasn’t pressuring her or getting angry, as some other fiancé might.

But the situation with Thorn Blooddrinker was different. She’d been given an ultimatum, and she didn’t like that at all. The prospect of making love with him might be consuming her thoughts and playing havoc with her body, but the fact was, he’d put a price on what she wanted from him. She’d have to pay with her body to get the information she craved, and she found that degrading, sordid, absolutely unacceptable.

If it had been anything else he was demanding, she wouldn’t have thought twice about it. That would have been no different than buying a research book, or paying for a guided tour of a historical site. To be fair, he deserved
something
for what she would get from him. But her body, her virginity in particular? That was asking too much, and she knew damn well that he knew it, that he had
named that price because he didn’t want to be summoned again.

Finally allowing herself to think about her dilemma and get angry about it all over again, she soon figured out a way to get around it. After all, two could play the game of threats and ultimatums. And almost immediately after the solution occurred to her, she packed a very large picnic basket, grabbed the sword case, and was soon driving out into the country.

It took her a while to find the perfect setting, and she almost missed it because it was so perfect for her purpose. Between two fields of golden wheat and down a gentle slope that hid it from the road was a small, lush meadow. It was richly dotted with wildflowers, had a few low-branched trees thick with summer leaves for shade, and was disturbed only by flitting butterflies and a soft afternoon breeze.

With nothing but nature in view, it could have been a scene from any century, which was why it was ideal. She didn’t want her Viking distracted by the twentieth century. She wanted his undivided attention—at least until they got the bargaining out of the way.

It took her two trips to the car, because the large basket and the sword case were too heavy for her to carry at the same time, but soon she had a blanket spread out beneath one of the trees, the basket open to reveal the mountain of food she’d stuffed into it, and the
sword case open too, though she was careful not to touch the weapon yet.

The food was a consolation prize. Thorn wasn’t going to be happy with her when she was done giving him
her
ultimatum, so she figured the least she could do was assuage
one
of his needs. Satisfaction of the other two needs he professed to having he would have to do without, since she wasn’t going to barter on the intimate level he’d had in mind when he’d threatened her, and in this century he’d have a hard time finding the kind of battle he was used to.

She grinned to herself, thinking of that. Poor man. He really was going to get the short end of the bargain she was going to propose. And then it hit her suddenly that she really was expecting another appearance, was practically taking it for granted. And there weren’t any hidden gadgets out there. If he came with his thunder and lightning, she really was going to have to accept the fact that he was—

She groaned to herself. She didn’t want to think about that, didn’t want to face facts that were just too implausible to credit. There
had
to be another explanation, one that didn’t demand she suspend all known beliefs, and she was determined to find it.

She reached for the sword but didn’t quite touch it, because her heart was suddenly beating erratically, her blood started rushing, and deep inside her—dear God, just the thought of seeing him again was arousing her. No
man had ever had this kind of effect on her before. She didn’t
have
to bargain with him. She could just—no. No. Not in payment for information she wanted, and not with a man she wasn’t even sure, yet, was real.

She took a deep breath, pulling her emotions
and
her body under control, and slipped her fingers firmly around the sword hilt. As usual, it was warm, another thing that defied logic. The metal should have been cold and warmed only to her touch, but not this sword.

The sun was out. If there was lightning, she didn’t see it, but there was no mistaking the crack of thunder. Yet she didn’t see Thorn Blooddrinker. She swung around quickly, but he hadn’t appeared behind her either. And she felt…crushed, devastated with disappointment. It was as if she had just lost something very, very dear to her, and she felt the urge to cry, to scream even. But she didn’t. She dropped the sword and pushed back the realization that the whole thing had been just a hoax, some cruel joke played by…whoever the man was who had invaded her bedroom. She wasn’t ready to deal with that yet, or how it had been accomplished, or why. She was too—

“You surprise me, lady. I would have thought you would prefer a bed.”