Emmeline slowly walked down the stairs, holding out her hand. “Don’t do that. Come with me inside. It’s still my birthday and we need to have cake.”
Cake.
I looked away, trying to break the connection I felt with her. No matter the choice I made tonight or during the time spent with the mafia princess, I could feel in my bones that I would end up going to hell for the way I felt about her.
As a woman, she was seductive, alluring in every move she made, every brush of her long fingers through her hair. Even her voice was a clear indication of the level of passion she heldin the darkest recesses of her mind. Some might consider her vulnerable or even soft.
I knew better.
As a warrior, she was more than simply formidable or highly trained. She held the kind of manipulative abilities that could bring an emperor to his knees, taking his entire kingdom before he knew what was occurring.
She also had certain characteristics I carried. She refused to take no for an answer.
That’s why when she jutted out her arm again, the action was followed by the kind of look an elementary school teacher would give her naughtiest student.
Against my better judgment, I took her hand, allowing her to lead me inside. When my first instinct was to search the premises, she shook her head.
“Don’t ruin the rest of the night.” She flicked on a light, backing away with purposeful steps. While still studying me with a wry smile on her face, she tugged off her stunning high heels that had made her calves as mouthwatering as the rest of her. Tossing them aside with her usual flair, she continued backing toward the kitchen, disappearing into the room.
Meanwhile, I removed my jacket, tossing it across the back of the couch. As I unfastened my sleeves, rolling them over my elbows, I concentrated on the outline of her shoes. Maybe I was using the technique to calm myself. After the cold-blooded murder of my parents, I’d been forced to find something to calm both my fear and my anger.
Of all the shrinks I’d been forced to endure, only one had provided a helpful suggestion. Stare at an inanimate object and take deep breaths while allowing the round of emotions to fade. The activity was meant to be used with rage, so I didn’t rip apart some unsuspecting human with my bare hands.
Tonight, the safeguard was being used for an entirely different reason. This time the hope was to squelch the increasing longing to violate every inch of her luscious body.
I longed to use the same hands others were terrified of to control her. To stroke her.
To possess her.
With both shaking, I held my hands up into the light, staring at the scars on my palms from harsh punishment received so long again. The inflictions had left rough patches of skin, completely unsuitable to caress something so beautiful.
Sighing, I fisted my hands, surprised to hear her hum. I moved silently toward the door, settling against the doorjamb, watching her as she placed several candles into the cake. The fact there was already a slender piece missing was somehow appropriate to the moment. This wasn’t normal by any reasoning.
From somewhere, she’d found matches, striking the small carton and staring at the flame in her hand for several seconds. With the matchstick still in her fingers, she lifted her gaze toward me. Her expression was unreadable, but I sensed she was daring me to protect her against the flame.
As the bright orange fire drifted closer to her hands, the strange tug of war between us continued. But she won, my advance taking less than two seconds.
Yet by then, she’d already lit one of the candles, snuffing out the flame with her fingers before using the single candle to light the others.
She’d been testing me and I’d failed. The reason was clear. My honor was all I had left. However, the need to protect went far beyond the order given. We both knew it.
As she stared at the flickering tiny flames, I could see a strangled volley of emotions in her wide eyes. Annoyance and anger, sadness drifting into despair. Loneliness. Every emotion possible with the exception of one.
Joy.
“Happy birthday to me,” she sang quietly, the words barely audible. She’d already grabbed two small plates and a knife. As she lifted the cutting implement into her hand, the sharp blade was illuminated by the light over the table.
She wavered, staring into the flames for a few seconds before leaning over. With the knife still in her hand, she held her hair away and with a single puff, blew out the candles.
Now an expression of disappointment replaced all other emotions.
The lady was as complicated as she was beautiful.
As she stared at what I could tell was the razor-sharp edge, she twisted it back and forth.
Her odd behavior had me taking a few steps closer.
Sensing my presence, she lifted the knife, pointing the blade in my direction. Seconds ticked by and after I refused to drop my gaze, she finally did with hers, studying the ink on my one arm.
