Eve came over and laid out a portion of nuts and bread with jam. She sat on a chair next to Michel.
“Oh yes. Terrible,” he lamented, though Michel could tell he was delighted to tell the story.
Harod took a scoop of nuts and continued. “Twelve French merchants, just outside the city limits. Just ripped to shreds.” He cracked a pistachio open and popped it into his mouth. “A porter that got away said it was a beast of a man that took two at a time as they tried to fight him off. He didn’t even use a sword!” Harod said, almost bouncing in his seat.
Michel stole a glance at Eve, who looked grim at the news. “Why were they attacked?”
“No one knows.” Harod shrugged. “We had men out there for hours to clear away the bodies.” He spread some jam across a chunk of bread. “The bodies that the animals didn’t get to.”
Michel’s mind reeled. He had thought the man sought Eve, but maybe he was coming for Michel himself. And why had he killed the others? Michel’s presence, the relationships he cultivated, these things kept the region secure. An open wage for war right now would not only mean that he and every other Frenchman were in danger, but it could dismantle his entire operation.
“Now,” Harod said, breaking into Michel’s thoughts. “Tell me of the fight you had this morning. Don’t tell me it was the same man,” he said excitedly, his eyes darting between Michel and Eve as he stuffed the bread behind his lips.
“It was nothing,” Michel said flatly, not wanting to add more lines to this story. “A scuffle. Nothing more.”
“Oh,” Harod said, looking disappointed. Then he perked back up. “If I were you, Michel, I’d be very careful. At least until we know what this man wants.” He finished off his bread and licked a spot of jam that had dribbled onto his sleeve. Then he looked at Eve. “Is it a brave man who escorts you, young lady? Is he capable of keeping you safe?” He said it in a teasing tone, but Eve did not wear a playful expression.
She looked from Harod to Michel. “I know no man more capable,” she said, “than this one who sits beside me.”
Despite the weight he felt inside him, Michel felt his heart spike, and the temperature of the yurt seemed to rise sharply. The words Harod had spoken dissipated in the lake of desire that surged inside him. These were problems and things to think about later. He reached for Eve’s hand, the touch causing him to forget every one of his responsibilities and think only of her.
Harod stood, jostling the table as he did. He took the rest of his tea in one gulp. “I will be going,” he said. “Leave you to the rest of your evening.”
Perhaps the man had picked up on the energy shift, but Michel didn’t care if he was being rude. He barely noticed the final salutations as he hustled Harod out.
Once the man was gone and the door to their yurt was sealed, he turned to her. Eve stood in the same place, her hands at her sides. She watched him with her mottled green eyes that glowed in the lamplight. Her loose hair flowed down over her shoulders, and she bit at her lip.
He went for her. Nothing would stop him now.
ChapterTwenty-Two
She saw him coming toward her, a dangerous smile on his face. Eve felt her body react in a way she had never experienced before. There was intent in his eyes, and before he even touched her, she knew she was in trouble, in a wonderful way. She sucked in a breath. So many places on her body wanted attention, she couldn’t keep track of it all. A quiver ran through her center and down the inside of her thighs, and as he got closer, she wanted his taste and scent to fill her again. Her statement to Harod had been true. When she had seen Michel fight Ganbold, that monster of a man, she knew one thing: she had chosen the only one who could protect her.
In a second, he was on her. One hand gripped her hair, and one hand landed on her waist. He dragged her to him and claimed her lips against his. Eve opened her mouth for him. His soft lips were the only things soft about his body. She tasted his tongue, drawing the essence of him into her. She threw her arms around his neck, ready to show him not only her gratitude, but also her own acute need to be closer.
Michel kissed her in a way that she understood only because it matched the desperation she felt inside. She continued to meet his tongue greedily, wanting to please him, but at the same time eager to experience. Eve had never felt these sweet feelings in her body, the delicious twisting in her stomach, the heat in her center. She had no frame of reference for these things. She knew in that moment that she would give him everything. She no longer felt she had to convince him to keep her. No, now, she just wanted more of him.
She pulled back with a gasp, breaking the kiss. She looked into his eyes, which burned. She bit her lip through a smile. Then she moved, to sink to her knees, to drop to the floor before him. To take him in her mouth the way she had done before.
But just as she moved and her hands grabbed for his waistband, he caught her and pulled back up.
“No,” he said.
“No?” she asked.
He grinned at her, taking another kiss from her lips. “My reward. I decide.”
When he pulled back, she whispered, “I am your servant.”
He groaned as he picked her up, putting his arms around her, under her bottom, moving her to the table where cups of tea still sat. He set her down, his body covering hers, his feet still on the ground. She wrapped her arms around him, and his lips were on hers again. She tasted him with her tongue and felt him grip roughly at the fabric of her dress. She had never been willing to yield to a man before, but with him, there was no choice. She wanted to submit.
His hands came up her skirts. Past her knees and onto her thighs. His hands on her bare flesh caused her insides to go wild. At one point, she had thought to use the promise of sex to keep Michel in line, but he was doing things to her she hadn’t anticipated. She hadn’t anticipated wanting him this badly. She hadn’t anticipated losing her own control.
Her belting had disappeared. Her dress was up over her head. All while his lips were on hers, his hands everywhere, making it impossible for her to track how he undressed her so quickly. Suddenly, she had nothing on but the undershift. The thin material clung to her fevered skin. He pulled it up, and it bunched around her waist so he could settle his body between her legs, and she felt the hard length in his pants. Then his own shirt was off, and he pressed against her. A pleasure she’d never felt before shot through her body, causing her head to fall back. “Michel,” she gasped.
“Yes,” he said. “Say my name just like that.”
Then his lips were on hers before she could say it again. His warm hands moved across her body. He reached into her shift, pulling it down over her shoulders, and gripped her breasts. The contact caused her to jerk before pressing herself into his hands. She heard him moan as he trailed kisses down her neck to let his mouth join his hands at her breasts.
