Prince of Forever Page 5

  Nay, love was not worth the hardships it would bring.

  “Love?” Julia asked. “What about it?”

  Tristan ignored the question and surveyed the room, taking in details that had been overshadowed by Julia’s presence. The small space and low ceiling did not hamper the artistry of her decor. Fresh flowers overflowed from colorful vases. Elegant chairs pushed against a dark, ornately carved table. A finely woven rug lined the polished wood floor. Delicate, all. His large frame simply did not fit within the constrictions of this home.

  What kind of place was this Am-erica? Were all the inhabitants as small, fetching and seemingly kind as Julia? A wave of anticipation crashed over him. What did the little dragon have planned for him this night? Only conversation?

  He was about to find out.

  She returned, rosy color blooming in her cheeks. She looked anywhere but his direction. Disappointment struck when he spotted her new clothing. Long black drocs shielded her legs, and a neck-to-waist black chemise covered her chest. Save for her face, not an inch of skin remained visible. Pity.

  She paused in the doorway, keeping a wide distance between them, as if she didn’t trust herself to stand too close. “Enough conversation. We need to put you to bed.” He might have eased another woman from her embarrassment, if only to circumvent a barrage of orders meant to punish him. He had no inclination with Julia. Her skin possessed a rosy glow, as if she’d just been roused from a vigorous bout of lovemaking and she only wanted more. Why do anything to disturb that image? Thus, he said nothing.

  “Well?” she snapped, a hint of exasperation underlying her tone. “Aren’t you going to say something about your early bedtime? Maybe complain a bit?”

  “Why would I complain about sleeping with you?”

  “What! No. No way.” With her mouth tightly compressed, she closed her eyes, blocking all trace of her emotions. A moment passed in silence. When she regarded him once more, determination etched every line and hollow of her expression. “Sleeping together isn’t necessary. I have a spare bedroom. You’ll use that.”

  She didn’t mean it. She couldn’t. “I am your pleasure slave. Sleeping with you is my obligation.”

  “Your obligation?” She reared back, her hand fluttering over her chest. “No, thank you. When I’m with a guy, it’ll be because we adore each other, not because I’m an obligation to him.”

  Tristan crossed his arms over his chest and leaned one hip against the speckled counter beside him. Seducing women was second nature to him, instinctive and usually boring. Before Zirra, he’d pursued, he’d won, and he’d moved on. He’d loved his life. Or at least, he’d thought he had. But any pleasure he’d once received from the chase, even from sex, had long since deserted him and now seemed like a chore.

  Most times, he’d rather count grains of sand than bed a new mistress. Except…he wasn’t bored right now. Excitement pounded through him, reminding him of the good old days, when he’d taken women simply because he desired them.

  “Why sleep alone when you can partake of my warmth?” His voice dipped low and seductive, something that caused most women’s eyes to close at half-mast, their knees to go weak and their resistance to melt. “I am here for your needs, little dragon. All of your needs.”

  Julia screeched, an all-out, honest-to-Elliea, I’ve-had-enough-of-you screech. She even stomped her foot. “How many times do I have to say it? I don’t want any pleasure.”

  “Forget pleasure and displeasure. Do you enjoy pain?” he asked, honestly curious.

  Her jaw dropped, a strangled gasp leaving her. “No.”

  Relieved, he gifted her with a sublimely immoral grin and pretended to misunderstand. “No, of course you don’t enjoy it. But you need it, yes? Tell me. Do you prefer I spank you with my hand or a paddle?”

  “We are not having this conversation,” she said, pinching the bridge of her nose.

  Had teasing a woman ever been so fun? “I have need of clarification.” He took two steps forward. “For some, the hand provides enough stimulation. For others, only a paddle will do.”

  Julia slapped her hands over her ears. “This isn’t happening to me. I am not standing in my kitchen with a man who has seen my butt and thinks everything I say is a sexual come-on. I’m dreaming again. That’s it. This type of torture is too cruel to be real.”

  “Oh, no, little dragon. Right now, I am not torturing you. But do you say the words, I will give you the sweetest torture your body has ever known.”

  “Enough!” Scowling, she jabbed a finger in his chest. “You will stop that right now, Mr. Body.”

  Do not laugh. “Nay, I am Tristan.”

  “And you are completely missing the point. There will be no more talk about sex. In fact, if there’s one more word about…about…dirty rotten monkey love, I will personally cut out your tongue. No, don’t say it.” She extended an arm, hand up palm out, when he opened his mouth to reply. “Don’t say anything for at least sixty seconds.”

  He waited the allotted time, stewing all the while, then said, “This dirty rotten monkey love sounds interesting. Mayhap you should explain in minute detail.”

  Another stomp of her foot. “Why can’t you understand? I’m not interested in you in that way.”

  That gave him pause. “You have no liking for me? Not in the slightest bit?”

  She chewed on her bottom lip for a moment. “I’m sorry, you’re just not the kind of guy I’m drawn to, that’s all.”

  Hmm. Had things changed so much in the past eighty-nine seasons?

  He gave himself a thorough once-over, yet found himself lacking in absolutely no way. His body appeared as strong as ever, and he still had all of his hair and teeth. What did the women of her world prefer?

  What did he prefer today? Seduction or sleep? He thought he might actually…want Julia. Truly want. He imagined her naked in bed, writhing with pleasure and begging for more, and he shot harder than stone.

  No “might” about it. He did. He wanted her. But she didn’t want him back. For some reason, she found him unappealing.

  To change her mind or not change her mind?

  No need for thought. Change. Definitely. When you had your first impromptu erection in hundreds of years, you didn’t waste it. Besides, the challenge enticed him on every level.

  His friend Roake would have laughed right now. The battle-scarred warrior had often commented that Tristan needed a refusal or two. Built character, he’d said.

  “Do you find me ugly?” Tristan asked.

  “Ugly?” Julia peered up at him. “How can you possibly think I find you ugly? You’re like a nineteenth-century porcelain dessert plate topped with chocolate éclairs.”

  Despite her praise, he remained…what was this stinging emotion? Hurt?

  “I know exactly how it feels to be found lacking by others, and the thought that I caused the feeling in someone else pains me greatly. Please believe me when I say you are beautiful. And again, I’m so sorry I made you feel otherwise.”

  “I see.”

  “I see? What do you see?” She lifted her lashes and looked up at him, beseeching him. “I truly am sorry that I upset you and made you feel unattractive. I didn’t mean to. Honest.”

  Her ardent apology seeped into his bones, as sweet as the nectar of gartina petals. More than that, her concern for his emotional state proved even sweeter. It also mystified him.

  “If I’m so desirable,” he said, “explain why you do not like me in that way.”

  “You’re just so…well, you carry a sword.” Finger shaky, she pointed to his talon.

  Ah, she feared his mighty blade.

  The double entendre made him smile inwardly. Women from multiple worlds had demanded he wear his weapon in and out of bed; they’d loved the danger and excitement it represented. For Julia’s benefit, he uttered a long-suffering sigh, gripped the talon by its handle and unhooked it from his belt.

  “You prefer scholars to warriors who enjoy executing their enemies?”
/>
  She shuddered, blinking rapidly for a bit. “You’ve killed… you’ve…please tell me you’re kidding.”

  “Worry not.” He smiled reassuringly. “You are not my enemy.” Not yet, anyway. The first time she uttered a command, however… He stiffened. They always uttered a command at some point.

  “I guess I’m thankful for that.”

  You will soon be thankful for many things, little dragon.

  The silvery metal glistened in the light as he laid his weapon across the table—close enough that he had only to reach out if he needed it. With her one objection to him obliterated, she would want him in that way. He was sure of it. She confirmed his thoughts by moistening her take-me-now lips with the tip of her tongue.

  He arched a brow. “Do I appear scholarly now?”

  Her relief pounded through the room like a palpable force, but she said, “Not even a little.”

  His shoulders rolled in as a heavy weight of disappointment settled over him. He became trapped in her sorceress-like spell, craving another glimpse of that pink tongue, unable to blink, much less look away.

  His erection throbbed.

  “Now that we’ve got everything settled—” she reached down and gripped his jewelry box in her hands “—we can go to bed. If you’ll follow me…” She turned and strolled away, swaying her hips in rhythm to a mating call.

  A call he had every intention of answering.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Your Mistress Is Never Wrong

  WITH ONLY A backward glance at his talon, Tristan trailed behind Julia. He continued to watch her buttocks as she moved. Very nice. Very nice, indeed. By Elliea, he wanted her curvy little body under him…over him…beside him.

  “The view is spectacular,” he said.

  “Thank you. I decorated with my favorite antiques.”

  “I meant—never mind.” Did the woman not realize the temptation she presented?

  They passed through a room crammed with everything. Paintings, dolls and books. Jewelry, pots and pans. Even glassware.

  Moving on. In the center of the next room, she stopped abruptly and pivoted around, her expression mutinous.

  “Close your eyes, please,” she told him.

  He did so immediately, without question, and hated himself for it, but over the years he had learned his lessons well. Obey the spell and, in turn, his guan ren, or suffer in the worst of ways. He heard the rustle of paper, the scrape of…what was that? What was the woman doing?

  “All right,” she said, sounding satisfied. “You may open your eyes now.”

  She stood before him in the same position as before, yet she no longer held the box; she blinked up at him as if she expected him to balk. He didn’t. How could he? Hiding the box was the action of an intelligent woman. He’d lost count of how many greedy, pleasure-minded women had stolen him. Mayhap because he’d ceased caring about who owned him. Whatever their appearance and personality, his association with them would be temporary.

  “Where to next?” he asked.

  “This way.” She led him into a narrow corridor. There were no trinkets here. Candles lined shelves that had been anchored to the wall, their soft golden light chasing away shadows. The fragrance of sugar and spice overlay the air.

  From there, Julia showed him into a tiny bedchamber. “This is where you’ll sleep,” she told him.

  He glanced around, taking in the furnishings. Each piece boasted animal embellishments. A redwood cabinet with dragons carved into the sides, a mirrored dressing table with birds, ethereal wine-colored drapes with dogs and turquoise decorative pillows with cats.

  “What type of animal is that?” he asked, indicating the far wall where some kind of large, alabaster beast sprouted green leaves.

  “That’s an elephant plant stand.”

  Ah. “Tell me that is not the bed.” Frowning, dreading her answer, he pointed to a small boxlike structure.

  “It is,” she said, her brow furrowed. “What’s wrong with it?”

  “A child would not fit in such a contraption, much less two people.”

  “You—you’re sleeping alone,” she sputtered. “The bed is big enough for one. Well, one normal-size man.”

  She began chewing on her mouth, an action he was beginning to loathe as much as he liked. Her lips were spectacular—lush and soft and pink. They were the kind of lips that made a man willing to battle a thousand armies, just to receive a single kiss, and Tristan swore to Elliea that the next time she nibbled on those delicate morsels, he would soothe them the only way he knew how—with his tongue.

  How had he ever considered this woman a plain mouse?

  “Nay. I am not sleeping alone. I know you have no interest in pleasure—yet—but I will remain at your side. Where you are, there will I be as well, remember?”

  Her eyes darted around the room like those of a trapped animal searching for an escape route, and she made a strangling sound in the back of her throat. She even wrapped a hand around her neck. “I don’t know you. We’re strangers. So we’re not sleeping in the same room, and that’s that.”

  That was a first. And also a rejection? Is this how Zirra felt when I turned her down?

  A muscle jumped in his jaw, but he nodded. “Very well. I will sleep alone.”

  She continued making those choking sounds. Had he frightened her beyond reason? Concern rushing through him, he pounded a hand between her shoulder blades.

  “I’m…fine…thank…you… Stop!” she managed between blows.

  He did as instructed, though his palm lingered on the ridges of her spine. “You are unharmed?”

  She arched her back, then twisted about at the hips, testing her range of motion. “Except for a few broken bones,” she said dryly, “I’m fine.”

  Broken bones? Tristan ran his hands up and down her body to feel for the breaks. And what a body it was, all soft curves and feminine roundness. Her shoulders were small and fragile, her hips soft and voluptuous. Her breasts were even fuller than he’d thought; surely the plump mounds would overflow in his hands.

  Were her nipples pink or brown or a color in between?

  “Where do you hurt?” He ghosted his knuckles over one rigid peak. She sucked in a breath but never once uttered a protest. Encouraged, he traced a fingertip over the other. “Your bones do not feel broken,” he whispered, letting the warmth of his breath fan her ear.

  “N-not there,” she said, the words barely escaping. “Not anywhere.”

  “So you are well?”

  She nodded, nibbling on her bottom lip. “Promise.”

  There she was, chewing on her mouth again. Always a man of his word, Tristan leaned down until his lips were only a rustle away from hers. “This I am glad to hear…because now I am going to taste you.”

  She didn’t pull from his grasp, nor did she attempt to push him away. She merely blinked up at him as if he’d spoken a foreign language. Then her eyes widened with comprehension. “I’m not sure—”

  “I would love to hear the lecture you’ve got brewing,” he interjected, tangling his fingers in her hair to drag her deeper into his embrace. “After.”

  She gulped and tore her gaze away. “One kiss? Only one? Then we’ll go our separate ways?”

  “Only one kiss. Separate ways.”

  “What if I taste…bad?” she whispered.

  His chest tightened again. Where had such an insecurity come from? “Look at me, Julia.”

  Slowly, so slowly, her long, sooty lashes swept upward until she met his stare. He knew what she saw in his eyes. Hunger. Raw, primal hunger. He wanted her, wanted to forget his surroundings, wanted to forget who and what he was, wanted to lose himself if only for a moment and renew his strength in the familiarity of a woman’s arms.

  “If you taste anything like you smell, I will be in heaven.”

  Lust flared in her eyes, causing the deep, dazzling green irises to darken and the lids to lower halfway. She was desire incarnate just then, and an invisible force seemed to dra
w her closer, closer still until his hardness nestled against her softness. Her exotic oraberry scent wafted to his nostrils, stronger than before.

  He moved his hands lower and cupped the soft skin at the back of her neck, guiding her face mere inches from his. Her small, soft form fit perfectly against him, and he knew instinctively that he would fit even better inside her. Once, twice, he brushed his lips against hers, lingering, eager to absorb her sweetness.

  His breath caressed her nose, her cheek. “Tell me to kiss you, Julia.”

  Lick. “I—I won’t tell you. Not as an order. If you want to kiss me, you have my permission to go for it.”

  He traced the seam of her lips—with his tongue. She moaned, a low, shimmering sound that weakened his knees as it washed over him in slow, erotic waves. “Okay, yes. Kiss me,” she croaked.

  He did. He kissed her, slipping his tongue deep into her mouth. At first, he teased her with slow flicks, touching and retreating. But soon her dam of restraint must have collapsed, because she increased the pace. With a groan, she thrust her tongue against his, hard and fast, and locked her arms around him, her nails clawing at his back.

  Passion sweetened her taste, a heady combination of savage desire and untapped wildness surging through him.

  “Delicious,” he whispered, forcing his head to lift. She’d agreed to one kiss, and one kiss only. If he continued, he would push for more. He did not want to push for more. “I want more.” Damn it! The word “more” must have gotten stuck in his brain.

  “More. Lots more.” Eyes glazed with arousal, she palmed the back of his head and jerked him back, holding him tight and keeping him close to her as their mouths met again. She rocked her hips forward, sank down, then rocked again.

  Where had her shyness gone?

  The force of her need had made her feral. But, but… he’d never before encountered a woman who erupted so quickly. Once again, he lifted his head. “Julia?”

  “Don’t stop,” she said, panting her breaths. Each time the apex of her thighs brushed his erection, she clutched him tighter, a little more desperately.

  No matter her former protests to the contrary, these were the actions of a woman in need of immediate fulfillment.