A horrified cry escaped her.
Shit. It’s not like he hid his scars—damn hard to do that, but he wished he’d spared her this. Maloch, the bastard had left his mark. Blaéz froze as her warm fingers covered his flesh, covered the ugly reminders of a past that could never be banished.
“Oh, God—”
He frowned. She wasn’t covering his scars, but tenderly wiping at them as if to take them off. He angled around to her and found her lovely eyes misty with tears. “Darci, that’s from a long time ago. See? I’m whole. Unharmed. Look at me,a leannan.”
Blaéz took hold of her wrist and brought her back on his lap, he doubted if she heard him.
Her breathing erratic, she grasped his face in her palms, her gaze darting all over him. Then she kissed him. He drew her close but the kiss, unfortunately, wasn’t one of seduction leading to the long, hot carnal playtime he’d waited a lifetime for, but one of utter fear. It seeped out of her and into her fervent kisses, the need to reassure herself he was unhurt clear in her actions.
She cared about him. None ever had before. The thought warmed him right through his ice-encrusted heart, melting more of his defenses.
As long as her mouth was on him, he was okay with that. He returned her kisses and gently stroked her back… Shit, this was pure torture. His rigid cock throbbed painfully trapped in his leathers. He didn’t dare move his hands even an inch lower than her waist, or he feared he’d have her flat on her back, stripped, and be buried deep inside of her.
He squeezed his eyes tight and forced himself to focus. To find out what the hell had terrified her.
Blaéz slowed the frantic kisses and eased back then he cupped her far too pale face. The few freckles he adored scattered across the bridge of her nose appeared like bruise marks. “Tell me.”
“I-I had a headache so I laid down to rest. Then th-that horrible dream started again…” She squeezed her eyes tight as if to ward off the images. “It was so real…a man trapped in a dark place being whipped with fire—” She inhaled a deep shuddering breath.
Whipped with fire?Blaéz froze. His lungs burned as if all the air had been sucked out from the room. How—just how the hell had Darci dreamed about his past—his torture?
With a tiny moan, she rubbed her temples.
“It’s okay. It’s okay.” He had no idea if he was reassuring her or himself.
Without pain pills to ease her, he did the only thing he could, he willed her to sleep. Breathing hard like he’d run several miles, Blaéz laid her on the bed, drew the covers over her. He stalked to the sideboard in the turret living room, his skin the only thing holding him together. Poured a shot of whiskey and downed the liquid in one gulp. But the burning sensation didn’t give him ease.Christ.Hesat on the coffee table and stared at the empty glass in his hand. Of all the things he’d imagined, he’d never expected this. Somehow, Darci had tapped into his past through her dreams.
What the hell had he done to affect her in this manner?
Guilt clamored through him, ones he had no way of shutting out. He rubbed his face, wishing for the millionth time that liquor could give him oblivion.
He had to get out of there, be back in that emotionless void so he could sort through his chaotic thoughts. Yet he didn’t move, remained glued to the table, his gaze on the bed.
At Darci’s low moan, he dropped the glass, shot to his feet and was at her side in a flash. “I’m here,a leannan.” He stroked her arm, and she stilled.
Blaéz shed his clothes, slid in beside her and drew her close as he struggled to put up his fragmented shields. He could live with his own personal demons, had done so for centuries. But he never wanted her tormented or to know his hell.
Once in his arms, she seemed to settle, her body curved into his and her arm slid over his waist. He pressed his lips to her head. Her pajama-clad leg moved between his thighs, pressing against his erection.
Blaéz groaned, his body pulling his mind to another need.
After millennia of feeling nothing, a carnal hunger burned deeply. Since he could do nothing about it, he moved her knee away. With her soft breath like a thousand taunting strokes on his chest, it was indeed going to be a damn long few hours until morning.
Chapter 14
The next morning,Darci tightened the sliding towel around her body and winced at her wan reflection in the mirror.
God, what a disaster her first night at the castle had been. Her stomach still felt a little shaky from her horrible nightmare. Thank God, she hadn’t freaked Blaéz out. It had ruined what should have been a perfect moment of finally being with a man she was drawn to both physicallyandemotionally. She really wished Blaéz had stayed, but the bed had been empty when she’d awakened.
Exhaling a frustrated breath, she scraped back her damp, tangled hair.She had no clothes. Blaéz had brought her here in just her jammies. And she had to be at work in an hour! Darn it, now what did she do?
About to go claim one of Blaéz’s t-shirts to wear, she spied a pile of shopping bags on the wooden chest. Inside them, she found skirts and several tops. How was it possible to get clothes—and name brands, too, that late at night? Ugh, the man was immortal. He could probably do anything he wanted.
Her brow rose at the short charcoal gray skirt she pulled out. After the horrendous night she’d had, now seeing this—something so normal, it made her smile. Being a man, naturally, shorter was better. She found underwear—scraps of sexy, lacy things that made her face heat. Instinctively, she knew he expected to see her wearing them for him.
Pulling on the gray skirt and a black, sleeveless top, she hunted around for a hair tie but found a pencil in the bureau instead that she used to anchor her strands in a topknot. In another bag she found shoes, grabbed a pair of gray pumps in her size, and dashed downstairs barefoot, almost mowing Echo down.
