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  “Let’s move on to something a little easier for you,” he muttered after clearing his throat. Had the air grown hotter in the past five seconds? “I have decided sensual expression is not for a beginner.”

  “I failed?” she asked, her shoulders rolling in. “Give me another chance, Tristan. Please. I can get it right. I know I can.”

  “Nay.” If she dared glance at him like that a second time, he would strip her and take her here and now, her customers be damned. “You will work on expression by yourself. Here, we will work on erotic speech. Yes.” Speech. Innocent enough, if he kept his requests on the tame side. “Close your mind to everything but what you wish to say to the man you desire. The man you wish to bed.” This is tame?

  “I’ve, uh, never been on a real date, so I’m not exactly sure what’s appropriate.”

  “Worry not.” He stroked her cheek with his fingertips gently, tenderly. “We will do this step by step.”

  * * *

  “STEP BY STEP,” Julia agreed. Heat tingled a fiery patch where he’d touched. He had such large hands—hands capable of destroying everything in their path, and yet he handled her gently. He treated her with such care, keeping the brute force of his strength under tight restraint.

  “Let’s pretend you are trying to seduce me,” he rasped.

  Acid filled her stomach, and for a moment, her tongue thickened, making any speech, especially erotic, impossible. “I’m not sure—”

  He cut her off, saying, “We do this my way, Julia.” The teasing light faded from his eyes. “If you continue to fear flirting, it will continue to have power over you.”

  He was right. Of course he was right. “We’ll do this your way,” she confirmed. She didn’t dare explain that his words evoked a primitive desire for the forbidden, to do exactly what he’d said and actually seduce him. Or that the air around her seemed sultry and lightly scented with…mmm, what was that? It was Tristan’s scent but not. Richer. Stronger. Sexier. His scent on steroids and love potion number nine. She really didn’t dare mention that desire pooled between her thighs as she pictured taking him inside—riding him—his eyes a mesmerizing shade of violet and passion as he peered up at her.

  Tristan sucked in a rough breath, as if he’d just gotten a peek inside her head. “You will cease that at once.”

  His fierceness surprised her, and she jerked back to reality. “Cease what? What did I do?”

  “You had donned another erotic expression. I recall expressly forbidding you to do that in my presence.”

  “Sorry, sorry,” she managed. At the moment, she was acutely aware of her too-tight nipples, of the needy ache throbbing in her veins, and the way her skin felt too tight for her bones.

  Irritated with him—and herself—she stuck her tongue out at him.

  “Careful, draga, or I might take you up on your offer and suck your tongue into my mouth.” Eyes blazing with heat, he tapped a fingertip against his chin. “Now then. I believe you wish to seduce me, do you not?”

  Perilous lessons! She swallowed, a bolt of pure, raw desire slamming into her, sensitizing her skin, heating her blood another thousand degrees. “Yeah, I wish to seduce you.” I do. I really do. “For the lesson.”

  He nodded, smiled as the mirth returned to his gaze. “Admitting your desire is the first step.”

  “And the second?”

  “Thinking of the words that incite sexual hunger.”

  “Words such as…”

  “Cock. Dick. Erection.”

  Storms of rapture followed his words. He’d just listed everything she craved. Well, the three biggest things she craved, anyway. “And what do I do with these words?”

  “Use one in a sexy sentence. That is the third step. You may begin.”

  “Wait! Toss out a sentence with a reference to your…your penis? Just like that?”

  “Very well. We will try something tamer.” Smug, seeming all too sure of her failure, he crossed his arms over his chest. “Can you say something, anything to garner my interest?”

  “I think so,” she lied.

  “Prove it.”

  “I—well—I…”

  “Wrong. Fail.”

  “I want you?”

  “Better.” He gave her a bone-melting smile of approval. “What else?”

  Good question. “You make me hot?”

  “And?”

  Because he thought her words were pretend, a sense of freedom surfaced, deflating her reservations and eradicating her need for constraint. She stared into his eyes, searching his soul. “You drive me wild whenever you enter a room. You make my pulse leap and my body tremble. I would say you’re tender and caring and gentle, and I feel safe when I’m with you. I would say… I would say that I want you more than I want to take my next breath.”

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  Always Remember That You Are Nothing

  More Than Your Mistress’s Property

  SILENCE LADEN WITH an undercurrent of forbidden desires stretched between them. Julia’s cheeks reddened, the blush quickly spreading to her throat. Why wasn’t he speaking? Did he suspect she’d told the truth and just didn’t know what to say?

  Finally he cleared his throat. “That was…interesting.”

  Relief coasted through her. He didn’t know, didn’t suspect. But…after the relief came annoyance. Interesting? Interesting! She’d rocked this challenge, thank you very much. “That was spectacular, and you know it.”

  He wiped the bead of sweat from his brow. “Mayhap we should cease the lessons for the day.”

  What! “We can’t stop now. I’m eager to learn about…um…playful bantering.”

  “Very well,” he allowed. He sucked in a fortifying breath, easing the tension around his lips. “Show me what you’ve got. What we’re working with.”

  For the second time, Julia closed her eyes. I can do this. As soon as she thought she had the right words, she focused on Tristan and said, “Let’s do breakfast tomorrow. Should I call you or nudge you?” A line she’d heard on a movie.

  His lips twitched, and he shook his head. “Try again.”

  “I’m a really good cook. My specialty is breakfast in bed.”

  “Now you are just being ridiculous.”

  “Nice pants. Can I talk you out of them?”

  “Julia, please. Are you trying to seduce me or kill me with laughter?”

  “Fine! No more cheesy pickup lines. But I need an example of something that works.”

  He lowered his chin, his gaze hot. He cupped one side of her face and whispered, “How can I think of what to say, when you steal my thoughts?”

  Oh. Ohhh. Now that was sexy. Goose bumps broke out over her skin.

  “Your turn,” he said.

  Letting her voice drop low and husky wasn’t a choice but a reaction to his words. “I don’t want to tease you with words, Tristan. I want to tease you with my mouth. Licking and nibbling your skin. Tasting and savoring your essence.”

  He quit laughing.

  Tristan used his body, a slight shifting of his weight and a subtle proving of his dominance, to force her back to arch. The carnal scent of his fragrance enveloped her, filled her. Consumed her. He glared down at her, pressing her even farther back against the desk. “Where did you learn to say such a thing?”

  Far from intimidated, she clapped her hands with an almost giddy pride. “I don’t know. So it worked? I actually bantered playfully with you? Oh, this is fun. Teach me more.”

  His glare deepened. “Mayhap you are ready for a more advanced training session, after all.” Pure, molten heat, hypnotic in its intensity, stole over his features. “Something hands-on.”

  Hunger claimed her—owned her. “I think I’m ready for hands-on,” she croaked.

  “All right. But first, we’re going to have a very erotic conversation. There will be no teasing. No innuendos. Your goal is to tempt me to kiss you. Think you can succeed?”

  She hoped so, but… She shook her head. “I don’t know wher
e to begin. Will you give me another demonstration?”

  “Aye.” Moving with tantalizing slowness, he nudged her legs apart with his hips, caught her wrist and pressed a soft kiss upon her pulse.

  She shivered, struck by the majesty of him, the raw intensity of his attentions. “I—I thought this was supposed to be about words.”

  “I’m getting there.” He traced his other palm up, up, up her thigh until the pads of his fingers brushed the lacy red trim of her panties. “You are honey and cream, Julia.” His lashes slowly swept downward, then lifted at an even slower pace. “Do you know why?”

  Caught by his mesmerizing voice and the searing heat of his fingers, she barely managed to say, “No. No, I don’t know. Tell me.” Please.

  “Your skin reminds me of cream. Smooth and delicious, made for licking. The more I taste, the more I must have. And your hair—” He released her wrist and tugged her long tresses from the rubber band. Every strand cascaded down her shoulders and back. “Your hair is the color of honey. Soft, sweet honey that will caress my chest as you ride me. Your lips, too, are like honey. So succulent. I long to savor them over and over again.”

  His body heat seeped past her clothes, into her skin, but his words, oh, his words…they enveloped her in a cocoon of sensual euphoria. His eyes beckoned with knowing intent, and she found herself leaning into him, craving more, needing more.

  “Now it is your turn,” he whispered, and dropped his hands to his sides.

  She mourned the loss of his touch. “You’re beautiful, Tristan. The most beautiful man I’ve ever seen.” Yet her description lacked a sense of accuracy; it failed to accurately describe the man she knew him to be.

  “Beauty is subjective and easily claimed.” Using the tip of his finger, he traced a path along her jaw. “Tell me what you see when you look at the man I truly am.”

  Lure him with words. Her eyes closed to half mast, so that she saw him more with her mind than her actual sight. “When I look at you, I see pale violet eyes that sometimes hold a hint of sadness, but always kindness. I see a gentle, compassionate warrior who is able to give more with one simple kiss than most give in a lifetime. I see an innate sense of duty that few possess. And a capacity for love that is staggering, if only you would tap into it.”

  Tristan cleared his throat. “Julia—”

  “I’m not finished.” In that moment, she forgot her decision to deny her attraction to Tristan. She forgot about Peter, forgot everything except the truth. “Sometimes, when I look at you, my hands ache to move up your chest, to feel your heart beating beneath my palms so that I can assure myself you aren’t a dream, that you are real. The ache is so powerful I shake with it.”

  “I imagine your hands on me, as well,” he said, his voice cracking. “Except, you move lower, to the heat of me.”

  “Your erection?” she asked softly.

  His pupils flared, swallowing his irises. “My erection,” he confirmed. “You stroke me until I can take no more while I do the same to you. You writhe beneath my hands, screaming your pleasure. Only then do I part your legs and slide into your wet softness, binding our bodies as one.” He nuzzled her cheek with his own. “What think you of that, draga?”

  “I think—” Gah! What did she think? Nothing. Her mind was focused on getting Tristan into bed and only getting Tristan into bed. She ached, and she needed. “You’ve taught me more than I ever hoped to learn, and this is a great stopping point.”

  He didn’t respond, and she didn’t have to wonder why. The pull between them right then was strong. Too strong. She couldn’t tear her gaze away from him, couldn’t really move. Time seemed suspended, the world around her nonexistent. The frantic drum of Tristan’s heart filled her ears, each beat spurring her own.

  What is even happening right now?

  And why had she wanted to stop this?

  Tristan was the first to break the spell. He blinked, shook his head. He even moved two steps back and leveled her with a fierce frown. “I am sure Peter will be pleased with your progress.”

  Who cared about Peter? Kiss me, she pleaded with her eyes. Never had a moment felt more ripe for loving.

  “You were right. We should end this lesson here and now,” he said, the words a soft growl. “We can begin anew at tomorrow’s dawning.”

  “Is that what you want?” Inside, she withered. “To stop?”

  “Of course.” A muscle jumped beneath his eye. “A good teacher does not allow his student to overstudy.”

  Disappointment raked her, and she found herself glaring up at him. “You’re right. Why study when I can live the real thing? I’ll practice on Peter when we go on our first date.”

  Tristan puffed out his chest and snapped, “He will never satisfy you.”

  “Maybe not, but I’d like you to release me from the first parameter.” As soon as the words registered, she nodded. Yes. She never should have asked him for help in the first place. Fool! The constant craving for him and his kisses needed to end. And maybe it already had—for him. He no longer seemed inclined to aid her in any way.

  Silence greeted her. Silence so thick it cast an oppressive fog throughout the room.

  Eventually he grated, “That is truly what you desire?”

  No. “Yes.” It’s for the best.

  “Very well.” His jaw muscle clenched and unclenched. “From this moment forward, you are free to do whatever you wish with Puny Peter. I want no part of your love life.”

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  Your Place Is On Your Knees

  Before Your Mistress

  THE REST OF THE day passed in a blur for Julia. She closed the shop a couple hours early, hoping to spend some time with Tristan and soften his dark mood. She escorted him to the Kreager Flea Market, which was open to the public every Wednesday. She hoped to introduce him to the man who’d sold her the box. He could ask questions and hopefully, she could learn more about his curse.

  She’d been thinking. The curse involved magic. So, she needed to speak with people well versed in magic. Modern day witches, maybe. A psychic, perhaps. Julia had never believed in those things, but Tristan’s appearance in her life had changed her mind. At the moment, she was open to anything.

  She and Tristan meandered through the stalls, inspecting merchandise on their way to the man who—Dang! The man who’d sold her the box was nowhere to be seen, and no one had any idea who he was. Apparently, he’d been there the one day, only one, and it just happened to be the day she visited.

  Despite her best efforts to engage Tristin in fun conversation, he remained stiff and unyielding, and he even scared several sellers with his glare, leaving them shaking and pale.

  “There’s something I want you to see,” she told Tristan. When she led him to a table crammed high with weapons of every size, shape and color, he finally melted.

  “These are magnificent.” He reverently fingered each item, gauging its weight and durability.

  “I’ll give you the Glock for four fifty,” the vendor said. She had short hair, cut like a boy’s, and wide angular features that assessed Tristan and knew she’d found a ready buyer. “You can’t beat that deal, and that’s a fact.”

  Tristan opened his mouth to reply, but Julia pressed a hand on his forearm. He paused to glance at her.

  She gave him an almost imperceptible nod, silently telling him I’ve got this, then she focused on the seller. “The gun isn’t worth half that,” she said, “and to be honest, we aren’t interested in it.” A knife she could allow Tristan to have, but a gun? She shuddered. “You might be able to interest us in the jeweled dagger, though—if the price is right.”

  The woman eyed Julia, considering just how much she thought she could pry from her wallet. When she realized Julia wouldn’t be budged, she once again turned her attention to Tristan, clearly hoping he would bring Julia around. However, his features no longer boasted of fascination. No, he looked as cold and hard as granite, not a flicker of emotion betraying him. Julia almost smiled
as she mentally applauded him. She made a conscious effort to keep her own features so impressively impassive.

  She uttered a forced, breezy sigh. “You know what? Never mind. I saw a similar blade a few stalls over.” She gently squeezed Tristan’s arm, ignoring the warm tingles that prickled her skin upon contact, and moved away from the booth, saying, “I’m sure we’ll find a better bargain over there.”

  “Wait, wait,” the woman called.

  Triumphant, Julia returned. “Yes?”

  “I’ll take two hundred for the dagger and sheath, but not a penny lower.”

  “I guess the dagger has found a forever home with you, then. Good day,” Julia said, and made to walk away again.

  “One fifty,” the woman pressed. “You’re robbing me here. You know that, don’t you?”

  “One hundred for the knife, sheath and cleaning kit, and you’ve got a deal.”

  “Done.”

  Triumphant, Julia paid and handed the bag of items to Tristan. His eyes were wide and admiring as he closed his palm around the plastic. “You are more fierce than the Shakari of the Imperian market.”

  “Is that a good thing?”

  “Aye.” He nodded, glorious heat and something else, something tender in his eyes. “Very much aye.”

  * * *

  TRISTAN SAT IN Julia’s car, warm air trickling through the vents and soft music humming from an unidentified source. They headed home.

  Home… The word echoed in his mind. Did he truly have one?

  He fingered his new weapon. ’Twas the second gift she had given him, and he didn’t know why. The woman had vehemently pushed him away, but afterward she’d treated him kindly and bought him a gift.

  Her actions confused and surprised him. While she refused to accept his affections, she so easily cultivated them. Once, he might have convinced himself that he cared nothing for her, that he welcomed all other men into his guan ren’s life, but he wasn’t that man anymore.

  In just a short span, Julia had changed him. He could not deny the tenderness he felt for her, could not deny that he wanted a more permanent place in her life, not as her tutor but as her lover.