He couldn’t resist her.
It was ridiculous to have thought he could. Yet the proof of his weakness was still hot on his lips, beneath his hands. One more encounter like this, and he wouldn’t be able to stop. And she would remember her past.
He made up his mind. He’d call Warren, have another Mythean Guardian assigned to her.
He stepped back. “No more.” He shook his head, then turned to stride out of the room. “No more.”
But only he could hear the words.
Chapter 21
Diana barely restrained herself from chucking the book at the wall. It was the last of the books in Cadan’s library that might have something to do with her past. And it had been useless.
Which had come as no surprise, by this point. Books wouldn’t work, and visiting Verulamium had only told her that she had been one of the female warriors at the battle of Watling Street, but not which one. To ancient written history, they were nobodies. Her answers weren’t in books, as she’d proven today in a last-ditch effort to find something.
She leaned back in the chair and glared at the clock. Nearly nine at night and she was no closer to figuring out who she’d been or to saving Vivienne.
She’d only seen Cadan once today, when they’d trained in his gym for several hours. He’d excelled at acting like everything was normal when it so obviously was not. She’d tried to ask him questions about what he’d said last night, but he’d deflected them, ignoring her. Ignoring everything.
But he wasn’t just her protector. He was a link to her past. He was part of her past. And there was a very good chance that he was the man from her dream.
The idea that the man she’d come to care for was the same one who’d betrayed her sent a cold shiver through her. But if it was him—which she wasn’t entirely sure of—why had he locked her up like that? And did it have anything to do with why she’d been reborn?
Diana set the book down on the table and leaned back in the chair to think. She had to find out, but when she’d asked earlier today, he’d deflected her questions like she was a fly on his arm. He’d been avoiding her, and it seemed like he was going to keep it up. Letting him do so wouldn’t save Vivienne or get herself out of this mess.
But her previous approaches to figuring this all out weren’t working. She tapped her fingers against her chin. If only there was a way to get Cadan to willingly tell her everything that he knew.
And then a horrible, wonderful, terrifying idea popped into her mind. No, it was idiotic. Crazy.
But he did want her. And she wanted him. More importantly, she was desperate and at the end of her options. Insane as it was, it might work.
Chapter 22
Cadan felt himself surface from a sleep as deep as death. As his eyes adjusted in the dark, he reached up to rub them, but his arms jerked to a halt.
Leather straps bit into his wrists.
The fog of sleep dissipated immediately and he jerked on the bonds. They held tight.
Why the fuck was he chained to his bed? More importantly, where was Diana? Had she been kidnapped?
Shite. Heart pounding in his chest, he roared, “Diana!”
“Oh, you’re awake.” The voice came from the side of the bed. He wasn’t alone, and though it sounded like Diana, the voice was throatier, sexier. She sounded like a woman who had just awakened after being fucked long and hard during the night. He wanted to be the one making her sound like that.
Cadan turned his head toward the voice and nearly swallowed his tongue when Diana rose from a chair by the bed, clad in nothing but scraps of lace that cupped supple flesh. The pale pink covered her breasts, giving him a tantalizing glimpse of large pink nipples. A thousand times better than he’d imagined.
His eyes were dragged downward and his breath caught. The curls at the juncture of her thighs were the same beautiful shade as those on her head. He ached to touch her there. To taste.
He jerked his gaze up to hers. “Diana,” he whispered hoarsely. “Come here. Untie me.”
Let me put my hands on you.
How had he thought to resist her? He strained against the bonds, desperate to have his hands, his mouth, on her. To tear away the scraps of lace and make her his in a way that she would never forget.
Nay. Resist her.
She just shook her head. “No, don’t struggle. They’re the Maoin straps, so you can’t get out.”
She placed one knee on the bed, then began to crawl toward him, her heavy hair hanging over her shoulder and her eyes hot. Dark deeds flashed in her eyes and his cock leapt.
Was he dreaming? This was straight out of his fantasies, but when he jerked on the straps that bound him to the bed, it became clear that this was very much real life. Diana reached him then, the sultry smell of her skin, her hair, her * reaching inside him to squeeze.