Scent of Danger Read online

  His mouth dropped to her nipple. Sucked it into the inferno of his hot, wet mouth.

  Suddenly she couldn’t breath. Scorching desire arched her back, helpless to prevent her body from calling him nearer. When the other hand joined in the game, teasing the other breast, she cried out with pleasure. How did he know just how to nip, what pressure to use to ease the small stings?

  And then he touched her.

  It was the sight of her blood that woke him up.

  Horrified, Mathin stared at the blood covering the fingers of his right hand and smeared across their naked thighs. Instantly his erection shriveled. “What have I done?”

  Alarmed out of her state of mindless need, Andrea tried to focus. Why hadn’t he finished? When he’d shoved his pants down she’d thought…

  The blood on his hands and his shock gave her a very different answer from the one he’d drawn. “Oh, God!” she wailed, praying He would make her disappear. “This didn’t happen.” How could her unpredictable flow choose to happen now? No wonder Mathin looked like he wanted to be ill! But how could she have known? First her grandmother had rushed her out of bed, then she’d seen Mathin trying to get himself killed. There’d been no time to think or consider when he’d started kissing her. It had been the very last thing on her mind.

  Sick with shame, she drew her knees up and pressed her face to them, hiding. “Go away!”

  Shaking with remorse at the pain he’d had no memory of causing, he tried to comfort her. “Andrea,” he whispered, reaching for her.

  She shoved him away. “Get out! I never want to see you again.” How could she ever look him in the face after this?

  His throat tightened, but he said nothing as he dressed, his fingers clumsy. He hadn’t even taken the time to properly undress before he’d savaged her. No wonder she wanted him gone.

  Cold with self-loathing, he quietly let himself out. How could he live with himself after this?

  He’d just raped his love.

  Three strong drinks later, the pain still hadn’t dulled. Mathin sat alone in his room, his head in his hands, staring at the small, scarred table. The barracks were quiet, the men off training. No one would interrupt his soul flaying.

  All he remembered was her scent, her taste. Had she said no? Had he given her the chance? She never would have had a prayer of stopping him, not with the adrenaline of victory pounding in his veins and charmer scent in his nose. She’d desired him at first, he remembered that, but he’d ruined it for her. He’d brutally taken a gift he could never give back.

  The blood was proof enough that he’d had her, but he couldn’t remember ejaculation. Had he? If their fluids had mixed it was too late for either of them; they were mated. If not… He shook his head, angry with himself. Only a coward would run from this. True, if they were not truly mated it would give her the choice to leave him, but he couldn’t face that. He’d hurt her; it was his responsibility to help her.

  Revived from his shock, his mouth thinned in grim determination. He had to speak to her.

  Andrea wasn’t in the mood to answer the door, but she wasn’t a child. After a brief struggle with herself, she grudgingly unlocked it, hardly surprised to see Mathin.

  Mathin’s heart twisted. She didn’t even want to look at him. Pain made his voice rougher than usual. “Would you like me to ask Jasmine to be here, too?”

  “I hardly think that’s necessary.” She admitted him, then shut the door firmly behind him. “I’m sorry for that...for today. I wasn’t thinking.”

  Eyes wide with astonishment, he demanded, “You’re sorry? How could it be your fault?”

  She toyed with the tassel on a throw pillow. “How could it not be?”

  “No!” Stricken, he cupped her face in his hands, bending until he could see her expression. “It was nothing you did. It was me.” He felt his eyes fill. “I’m so sorry I hurt you, love.”

  “Hurt me? What are you talking about?” she asked in confusion. He thought he’d hurt her?

  “Andrea.” He could barely meet her eyes. “I have never...I don’t…” What could he say? Would she be honored to know she was the first woman he’d ever harmed? He doubted it.

  “My cycle started today,” she explained, just to make certain they were on the same subject. Her face heated at the frank admission, but they obviously needed clarity. Then the full horror of what he thought struck her. “Oh! No, Mathin,” she rushed to assure him. It was her turn to touch his face. “You didn’t hurt me. It was feeling really good until we saw…” Her face got hotter. “You know.” Now she couldn’t look at him. “I didn’t want you to stop.”

  Relief made him sit down fast. “Then I didn’t…”

  “No! How could you think such a thing?”

  “I don’t remember any of it.” Even that admission shamed him. Such a loss of control was inexcusable. “Only the very beginning and the end.”

  She grimaced and rubbed her head. “Nice way to end a make-out session, wasn’t it?” She sighed. “At least it explains the mood swings.” Her mood brightened. It wasn’t nearly so humiliating if she could blame it all on PMS.

  Mathin let out his breath in a long, slow stream. “Thank the Deity. It wasn’t the way I’d wished to begin our marriage.” A tug sent her tumbling into his lap where he crushed her close. “I didn’t want to lose you, and I never, never want to hurt you.”

  Uncomfortable with the reminder of what giving herself to Mathin entailed, she squirmed. She’d been going on instinct, unable to consider the consequences. She’d love to blame it all on hormones, but was uneasily certain there was more to it than that. He’d seduced her, and now all he had to do was look at her to make her lose her mind. She was kidding herself if she thought her brain was playing any part in this mess now.

  Unaware of her thoughts, he smiled at her. “Restless? Would you like to spend these days exploring? There are many things you have yet to see.”

  Hey, if he wanted to change the subject she was all for it. “Where do you live?”

  His eyes opened wide in surprise.

  “I’d like to see it.” A girl could tell a lot about a man from the place where he lived.

  “It’s a room in the barracks. Hardly the place for a woman.”

  “I’ll pretend I didn’t hear that.” She hopped up and looked at him expectantly. “Well? Come on.”

  With extreme reluctance he led her through the halls, across a wide courtyard to the barracks, a long, two story building made of unadorned gray stone. Uncomfortably aware he was breaking a taboo, he escorted her to his room on the first level. Soldiers didn’t bring women to their rooms unless they were their wives, and these were not the married men’s quarters. At least her bodyguards were here to provide a makeshift chaperonage.

  One quick look, he promised himself, with a glance around the deserted officer’s hall. Then he’d steer her on to something more suitable.

  Andrea frowned as she took in the small, Spartan room. A narrow cot, perfectly made, took up most of one wall. At the foot of the bed was a trunk. There was no clutter, either on the dresser or the scarred table. It looked unoccupied.

  Perplexed, she entered the room. With a glance at Mathin for permission, she opened the dresser, found a couple of changes of clothes. The trunk was locked.

  Mathin gave her the key.

  It held weapons. Andrea gently closed the lid and locked it. For a moment she remained crouched, quelling the urge to cry.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “Why did you give me such a nice room?” Her throat ached, and she barely understood why.

  Mystified, he tried to comfort her. “I thought you’d like it.” When her expression grew even more miserable, he shifted uncomfortably and glanced out the door, searching for someone to explain her odd actions.

  Distressed, she threw herself into his arms and pressed close. “But you don’t have anything.” His chest shook within her arms and she looked up, puzzled.

  “My love,” he had to pa
use to stifle his amusement. “I like my life uncomplicated. The rooms I found for you were offered to me for your sake. As for myself, I prefer the barracks. Besides,” he lowered his voice and murmured in her ear, “my life has not been without pleasure. Shall I show you?” He nibbled on her lobe.

  A helpless moan of agreement sounded in her throat.

  He flashed her a wicked grin and led her to the stables behind the barracks. The lawn around it was neatly trimmed and the broad stone walkway free of weeds. A few trees had been planted here and there around the paddocks, providing shade. As with all things in the Citadel, it was kept neat and in perfect repair.

  But Andrea was not easily sidetracked. “What do you mean, you prefer the barracks? Are you planning to stay there after…”

  With an admiring smile for her pretty blush, he shook his head. “I’ll stay where you stay.”

  “But will you like it?”

  Mathin shrugged. “If you’re there, I’ll like it.”

  Annoyed at his unconcern, she pressed, “Don’t you have any opinions on the kind of place you’d like to stay?”

  “Yes.” He grinned. “It had better have a large bed.”

  Gritting her teeth against the fire in her face, she pulled him to a halt. “I’m serious, Mathin. We have to talk about this.” The picture she was getting of his financial status was a bleak one, and she refused to let him make sacrifices for her. Determined to set him straight, she opened her mouth, then gaped as a beast and rider came trotting by.

  It had to be the ugliest animal she’d ever seen. Husky and evil-eyed, the thing looked like the thug of the pack animal kingdom. It had the body of a horse, but it sported more muscles than a weight lifter. More disturbing, its gray hide was covered with scales, and it had the clubbed tail of an ankylosaur. Rhinoceros-like horns sprouted from its nose. The beast rolled too intelligent eyes back at them and stared evilly, snorting in contempt for good measure.

  “Our stags,” Mathin explained with satisfaction. “Much more impressive than your world’s tame little ponies.”

  Andrea’s eyes widened. “I am not riding those!”

  Instead of answering directly, he took her hand and led her into the spacious stone stables. “Would you like to see the finest stag in all the land?”

  “Pass.” The packed dirt aisles were free of droppings or suspicious stains. Thanks to the doors that opened into back walls of the stalls—she could see glimpses of tall fences through them—it smelled fresher than she would have thought. She was about to ask about that when she saw a group of large black beetles gathered around a pile of dung. Clicking noises emanated from them as they picked up patties in their huge jaws.

  “It’s all right,” Mathin said as she stiffened. He placed a reassuring hand on her back. “They collect the dung to lay their eggs in. The adults are harvested to feed the stags.”

  “They eat them?” she asked, repulsed.

  “That and browse. Come.” With a smile for her disgust, he led her to a stall on the end and opened the heavy wooden door. When she hesitated, he tugged her gently in. “He won’t hurt you after I make the introductions.”

  Not exactly reassured by his remark, she nevertheless allowed herself to be coaxed through the stall and into the corral beyond. The stag within lifted its head and stared at them, then swished his clubbed tail. It seemed to measure Andrea, then its nostrils flared. It came forward and nudged Mathin’s hand on her shoulder.

  Mathin nodded.

  The beast wrinkled its nose, exposing its fangs. It jerked its head, then proceeded to rudely snuffle her, lipping at her clothing.

  “Hey! Cut that out,” she snapped, shoving its face away. The scales on its muzzle were smooth and dry against her palm. Mathin laughed.

  She shot him an irritable look as the stag growled and pawed the ground, its head lowered ominously. Taking her cue from Mathin, she warned it, “Back off, you ugly piece of bear-bait, before I take Mathin’s gun and use it on you.”

  Immediately the stag’s head came up. It looked at the grinning Mathin.

  “She would.”

  The beast snorted and went off to graze, ignoring them.

  Andrea elbowed Mathin in the ribs to halt his silent chuckles. “That wasn’t funny.”

  He shook his head at her, pleased by her courage. Now was not the time to tell her his mount’s reputation. “It will only take a minute to saddle him.”

  Mouth open, she backed up. “Oh, no! He’s your horsy. You can ride him.”

  “Stag.” Mathin retrieved his saddle.

  “Whatever. I’m not going to ride him.”

  Minutes later she was sulking in the saddle. “Sometimes I really hate you.” Not even the feel of his hard body behind her completely made up for this latest outrage.

  “I can tell.” He gave her breast a quick squeeze, delighted to find the nipple hard and taunt against his palm. When she gasped and tugged at his hand, frantically looking around, he rotated his palm. No one was looking.

  “Stop that!” she hissed. It felt way too good. “Someone might see.”

  “This time,” he allowed, settling his hands at her waist. “Now show me what you know of riding.”

  Since she knew nothing, as he’d supposed, he led her through the beginning steps, patiently teaching her to guide his stag. Bloodlight wasn’t thrilled at being used for a beginner’s nag, but tolerated it reasonably well. Still, it was a relief when Mathin ended the lesson and took the reins.

  Lowering Andrea to the ground, he explained, “Bloodlight needs to run for a time. Wait here for me.” Before she could comment, he backed his stag up, then charged the fence. They cleared the six-foot barrier without a hitch.

  “Lord Mathin always did have the best beasts.”

  Andrea shut her mouth and turned around. A group of women stood on the other side, all strangers. “Lord Mathin?”

  The richly dressed stranger waved an elegant hand. “Mathin the Mad, if you prefer.” The green gems in the circlet on her brow glittered. She looked in the direction of the racetrack and the rider making his way around it with blinding speed. “Though I would be careful about using that title to his face. He doesn’t like reminders of his family’s legacy.”

  She smiled at Andrea as she assessed her. “Not that it makes him any less appealing as a potential mate. Surely one as potent as he could overcome any unappealing traits in his seed.”

  “Who are you?” The lady might be a fount of information, but Andrea didn’t like discussing Mathin behind his back, and not with a too-pretty stranger.

  “Princess Ellipse.” Ellipse gestured to the women around her. “These are my daughters and their friends.”

  Andrea gaped. “Your daughters?” The woman didn’t look any older than her late twenties, and the women she indicated were all adults. She looked harder, but could see no wrinkles in the flawless skin at the corner of Ellipse’s sky blue eyes, nor silver threads in her auburn hair. “Impossible. You can’t be older than I am.”

  Ellipse smiled. “Thank you.” She looked toward Mathin as he rode up.

  “Hello, your highness.” His tone and expression were carefully neutral. He didn’t dismount.

  “So formal,” she murmured, sliding a glace at Andrea. “I had hoped to see you at my tournament this year.”

  Andrea suppressed the urge to tap her foot.

  “I have other plans.”

  “Pity.” Ellipse rested her hand on the shoulder of the girl beside her. “My eldest daughter has volunteered to be among the beauties offered as prizes.” Her gaze grew sultry. “I have assured her that you have the stamina to shame any contenders.”

  Andrea’s toes curled in indignation. She felt her expression become distinctly unpleasant.

  Mathin glanced at her, then back to the princess. “My energies will be taken up with other matters this season.”

  “Ah.” Ellipse lowered her gaze and lifted a brow. “If you should change your mind… Come, ladies.”

  “If y
ou should change your mind,” Andrea mimicked under her breath the moment the sultry princess was out of sight. She stomped off towards the stall door, grumbling under her breath. Oh, how she wanted to hit something!

  “It was long before I met you,” Mathin said, catching her arm.

  “Doesn’t feel like it,” she answered grimly. The jealousy was fresh and shocking in its vigor.

  Instead of arguing, he backed her up against the wall in Bloodlight’s stall, determination on his face. “How about now?” He thrust his knee between her legs, wedging his thigh tight against her sensitive center. His lips swallowed her moan.

  Passion hazed Andrea’s vision as she forgot everything but him. Ravaged by his need and the blood thundering through her head, she fought, then forgot why. Moments later she clung to him, as determined to claim him as he was to have her. Her hands slid inside his vest, urging it open—

  “Yikes! Find a room, guys.”

  The lovers broke apart with a curse and a gasp.

  “J-Jasmine?” Andrea panted, her vision still hazed. Keilor stood behind his wife, looking amused.

  Mathin muttered and jerked his vest back together as Jasmine tsked at them. “Kind of busy around here to indulge in that sort of thing, isn’t it?” Her tone was chiding, but she grinned as she said it.

  Keilor smiled as he wrapped her in his arms and whispered in her ear.

  Jasmine colored and darted a mortified glance at the lovers. “Sh!”

  Smiling at Mathin, Keilor inclined his head. “Would you care to join us for lunch in the market?” His eyes sparkled with male satisfaction. “Jasmine’s craving seafood again.”

  Mathin’s face lit. “Congratulations!” He slapped Keilor on the back and gave Jasmine a gentle hug, kissing her on the cheek. “A girl this time?”

  An odd, fleeting expression crossed his face as he embraced Jasmine. It was gone so quickly, Andrea couldn’t decide if she’d imagined his concern.