Burning Dawn. Gena Showalter

Чтение книги онлайн.

      CHAPTER TWO

      NEW BONDS. SAME PROBLEM.

      Same solution.

      My Slave yanked his way to freedom, ignoring the pain sweeping through his body. He stomped toward the exit of the tent. He wanted his woman with a desperation that—

      He stumbled back a few steps, momentarily distracted. He frowned. Something small, square and cold had just been shoved into his mouth; it was sweet. He liked it. Also, there was a strange weight pulling at his shoulders. Why?

      He took stock. A female had her arms locked around him, her small body pressed against him, her legs dangling above the ground.

      New problem.

      New solution. He grabbed her by the waist with every intention of pitching her over his shoulder. But the sweetness of her curves registered, and he quickly changed his mind. She was delicate, like an exquisite piece of china in need of protection.

      He didn’t think he’d ever held anything so fine.

      Careful, so careful, he wrapped his arms around her and held her against him, using his body as a shield against the world. He would protect.

      She sucked in a breath, as if the embrace surprised her. “Your name is Thane. Remember. Please.”

      Her voice—he recognized it. It was unnaturally raspy, as if she’d just had the most intense orgasm of her life and would die without another. And it was an intonation that had invaded his dreams for the past six nights, sparking something inside him to life...something almost tender...driving him, arousing him.

      An arousal he didn’t understand. She wasn’t his woman.

      “Thane,” she said on a trembling breath. “Your name is Thane. Kendra tripled your dose of poison, so I need you to concentrate on the cold now spilling through you. Do you feel it? Do you feel the cold?”

      The cold—yes. A thin layer of ice coated his insides. “Yes.”

      “Good. Now concentrate on me,” she said, and he was helpless to do otherwise. “Hear what I say. You are a Sent One. You aren’t here of your own volition. You were drugged. You’re still drugged. The woman you desire has made you a prisoner of the Phoenix. Clan Firebird.”

      In some forgotten corner of his mind, the words held his interest. Sent One. Drugged. Prisoner. Phoenix.

      The words were accompanied by emotions.

      Sent One—longing.

      Drugged—confusion.

      Prisoner—rage.

      Phoenix—hatred.

      “—still listening? You can free yourself, Thane. There is a way.”

      The cold intensified, until a winter storm raged through every inch of him. All the while the female continued to speak—that voice, so carnally perfect—and he began to feel as if he were floating higher and higher, his head finally peeking above a sheet of dark clouds.

      His name was Thane. He was a Sent One.

      He was here for a woman. No, he thought a second later. He was here because of one.

      Kendra. Yes. That was her name.

      He despised Kendra. Didn’t he?

      No. He wanted her. Only her.

      But...if that were true, why was he clinging to the female in his arms?

      The, oh, so tempting female in my arms. He ran his nose along the line of her neck, inhaling deeply.

      “Wh-what are you doing?” she asked on a wispy catch of breath. “Smelling me? I’ve bathed. I swear I have.”

      No hint of smoke or flowers, only soap and cherries. She didn’t smell like Kendra, and he was glad.

      He rubbed his stubble-covered cheek against her skin. Soft, mildly warm rather than searing hot. She didn’t feel like Kendra. But...better?

      Yes, oh, yes.

      He flicked his tongue across her fluttering pulse. Melted honey, summer fruit. She didn’t taste like Kendra. So much better.

      “Stop.” She moaned, and he liked that, too. Wanted to hear it again...and again. “That’s not going to happen between us, warrior. We’re going to save each other, nothing else.”

      What he heard: going to happen between us.

      He agreed.

      He carried her to the bed and eased her onto the mattress. “Have you,” he said.

      “No, Thane,” she replied, wary—and even more breathless.

      Floating higher and higher...

      Peering down at her, he felt as if he were seeing her for the first time. Maybe he was. Or, maybe his focus was sharper with every second that passed, new portions of his mind clearing, cobwebs falling away.

      His friends would have called her “plain,” he thought, but to Thane she was utterly breathtaking.

      Long, dark hair spread around her like a midnight curtain. She was human. Petite. Delicately honed, like a cameo. Her pale skin had been burned by the harsh rays of the desert sun and had freckled. He could trace those freckles with his tongue. She was young, perhaps twenty, with big gray eyes that reminded him of smoked-glass mirrors. He could see himself in those eyes...all the way to his battered soul.

      Something in her called to something in him—like to like—and a part of him he’d never known, a part once hidden even from that forgotten corner, responded. It was strong, this something. It was alive. Demanding. And it was saying, This one. Take her.

      He watched as her gaze dropped to his erection...and quickly shot back up. A blush stained her cheeks. The sight aroused him, lighting a new fire in his veins.

      “Uh, if you want to be free of Kendra, you can’t make love to her. Not that that’s what you’ve been doing to her. Barf! I’m just saying you have to kill her.”

      He would have to proceed with caution. He could easily hurt so fragile a female.

      Her words registered, and he paused. Kill...Kendra?