Marked

“He exists as he always has. A living, breathing killing machine born of honor and duty.”

 

 

His definition of himself was so mater-of-fact, it sent a chill down her spine. Yet it explained so much about who he was and how he operated. She thought about the scene with his father. “What about children?”

 

He shrugged. “It is possible, even encouraged, for an Argonaut to have young outside marriage. After all, ‘go forth and multiply’ was, and still is, the slogan of the gods, and screw anything that gets in their way. That mentality has been passed down to us tenfold. But that’s all it is. Sex for fun and procreation…if the time is right for the gynaíka. An unbound Argonaut will never be emotionally involved with his younglings. He has no real ties to them.”

 

The type of man he described seemed so different from the one she was getting to know. She’d glimpsed tender moments from him, even back at her house before she’d known what he was. Surely an Argonaut who’d called her “beloved” right from the beginning couldn’t be as callous as all this.

 

And then a thought occurred. One that tightened her stomach and sent a wave of unease rolling through her. “Do you have children?”

 

“No.”

 

“But you said—”

 

“My father was one of the lucky ones, meli. An Argonaut who found his other half. I grew up in a loving household, unlike my kinsmen. When, if, I have younglings, it will be with the gynaíka who is my soul mate, no one else.”

 

She breathed out a sigh of relief, though why his answer pleased her, she couldn’t say. For reasons she didn’t want to examine, she couldn’t bear the thought of him with someone else. At least not right now, when she was seated precariously on his lap and his hands were running up and down her back in that languid way that made her want to take a bite out of him.

 

And that’s when she remembered what he’d said on the hike up here.

 

Thankful he couldn’t see her blush, she said, “So, um, about that. You said there was one way you could tell if someone was your soul mate. I suspect that means you’ve had plenty of practice in the whole soul-mate-searching thing.”

 

He stirred again beneath her, and oh, yeah. This time there was no mistaking his arousal pressing against her hip. Her skin tingled at the contact, and she remembered the erotic way he’d touched her that night at her house. If she turned ever so slightly and slung her leg over his hip, she could be sitting on top of all that hard steel, exactly where she suddenly needed it.

 

“I’ve never had any reason to wonder,” he said in a low voice. “Until now.”

 

Casey’s heart kicked up, and in the silence she knew he had to hear it too. “Why not?” she asked, even though she knew this was a dangerous road to travel.

 

“Because I hadn’t met you. And I didn’t dare think to look in the human world for my other half.”

 

Oh, boy. Had he just said what she thought he’d said? Okay, ignoring the part about her maybe being his—gulp—soul mate, was it possible he’d never been with a human?

 

Her blood went hot at the thought. Casey wasn’t stupid. The man was more than two hundred years old and radiated raw sexual heat that would undoubtedly make even the strongest woman throw herself at his feet and rip off all her clothes at just the crook of his finger. And judging from Casey’s spotty memory, she’d done just that. Which meant he was well experienced in the sex-for-fun thing he’d mentioned earlier. But the idea he’d had all that practice with only women of his kind and not humans? Oh, yeah. That electrified her. Jacked her up. Left her burning hot and wild.

 

Because it meant this was as new to him as it was to her.

 

A slow ache pulsed deep in her core, slid lower until she had to press her thighs together to keep from moaning.

 

What would he be like as a lover? Hard and hot and demanding, she was sure. Would she be strong enough to take it? Would she even care after he had his way with her?

 

Sultry images lit off in her brain. His mouth on hers, his skin pressed up against hers. His body bending hers over the couch, as he’d done once before, to drive deep inside her.

 

The hand he’d been using to stroke her back slid down her arm to rest on her thigh. A shiver rushed over her skin, and all she could think about was how good it would feel to have his hands on her bare flesh again.

 

“I can hear your heart,” he whispered in the silence between them.

 

Oh, yeah, ya think? Casey bit her lip as his fingers traced a lazy pattern across her thigh.

 

“Do you feel all right?”

 

No, she didn’t feel all right at all. She was exhausted and weak. Compounding her illness was the fact she hadn’t eaten in nearly two days. She felt as if she could sleep for a month and still never catch up, but at the moment none of that mattered. Because all her energy was focused on what he was doing to her body with just the barest touch from his talented fingers.

 

Elisabeth Naughton's books