Waking Eden (The Eden Series Book 3) Read online

  “Not ordinary. Not by a long shot.” He stood sharply to punctuate this statement and prowled toward her. “It was you who knocked me out.”

  “I what?”

  “You shocked me.” He stopped short of reaching distance. “Or I guess I should say something inside you shocked me.”

  “I did not.”

  Ramsay laughed. How could he not? The woman had flattened him as good as any steel I-beam, and now she wanted to debate it. “Yeah, you did.”

  She leaned in a fraction and frowned.

  Damn it all to histus. This really wasn’t his strong suit. He rubbed the back of his neck. “When I saw the necklace, I knee-jerked and tried to scan your memories.”

  Trinity snapped to full height. “You did what?”

  “Tried to scan your memories.”

  “You got in my he—”

  Ramsay threw up his hands. “It’s not something we normally do. It’s considered impolite and I’m usually not comfortable using it, but seeing your pendant made me worry about my family.”

  Trinity crossed her arms, breaths coming short and fast. “What did you see?”

  “Nothing.” The Great One knew he wished he’d gathered something. Anything. For all their sakes. “That head of yours has got a mighty strong security system. Definitely not like any human I’ve ever met.”

  She lifted her chin and strolled to the window overlooking the street below. She kept her arms crossed, fingers digging into her biceps so hard she’d have a mark the next day.

  He let her have her thoughts for a minute, replaying through everything he’d shared. Maybe he needed to focus on the benefits of being a Myren instead of the drama and intrigue. “Does the idea of being Myren scare you?”

  “Right now a lot of things scare me.”

  Couldn’t blame her for that. He moved in behind her and cupped her shoulders, her fresh, light scent seeping into him and ratcheting down a hefty amount of his tension. “Being Myren’s got its advantages.”

  She turned her head. Not enough to truly give him her attention, but enough she could see him from her periphery. “Like slinking into people’s heads?”

  “Like that.” The little fox. “But we can levitate too, our bodies and objects. Just like Eryx did with the keys.” He slid his hands around her waist and pulled her against his chest. “Family and mates can talk telepathically. Everyone has gifts tied to the elements, and most have one or two unique gifts they excel in.”

  Her hands covered his, the touch both tentative and that of a woman gripping a lifeline.

  He nuzzled the spot behind her ear, her hair silky smooth against his cheek. “It’s beautiful there. Similar to Evad, but special in its own way.”

  She let out a shaky breath. “Special like the way those people described on the news? The ones who said they went there?”

  His arms tightened around her at the reminder. “Just like that.”

  “Who’s taking them?”

  “We don’t know. It’s one of the reasons Eryx agreed to take a chance and come clean with you on everything. We were hoping you might have clues to help us see if it’s prophecy related.”

  Trinity sucked in a deep breath. “I’ll tell you what I know, but I wouldn’t get your hopes up about me being one of you.”

  A warning brushed his senses. Nothing dangerous. More of an alertness. He turned her in his arms and angled her face to his with a firm grip at her neck. “Why? Would it be so bad?”

  She smiled up at him, a sad one lacking its usual sparkle. “I think it sounds amazing. But there’s no way I’m Myren.”

  Chapter 13

  Damn her stupid mouth. Trinity shook the wooly melancholy off her thoughts and stomped around Ramsay toward the kitchen. She needed Ramsay focused on another subject pronto. He and his family might be willing to risk breaking their tenets, but sharing her heritage came with a nasty price. She might not know the details of said penalty, but it was bad enough to keep Kazan in line since her mother died. That was enough warning for her.

  She snatched a bottle of Ménage à Trois Red from her clearance sale Pier One wine rack. “I think I’ve earned a drink. You want one?”

  Ramsay’s eyebrows pinched inward hard enough to leave a permanent dent. “Why don’t you think you’re Myren?”

  Screw a drink. She’d earned the whole bottle. “I’ve got a better question.” She worked the bottle corkscrew into place. “Tell me what Lexi was talking about?”

  Silence floated behind her.

  “Lexi said you’re afraid to acknowledge something.” She pulled the cork free and served up way more than the standard restaurant pour. “What was she talking about?”

  Ramsay dropped into her comfy club chair and rubbed his neck.

  “You said you’d give me answers. I want this one.” She stifled the harrumph that rushed up behind her question, but just barely.

  “Lexi’s an emotional empath.”

  Trinity stopped with the wine glass midway to her mouth. “A what?”

  “Emotional empath.” He met her gaze across the room. “Kind of like an emotional radar. When she opens her senses, she can feel what people feel. Usually as a physical sensation before the emotion registers. Fear, for instance. It’s got a metallic taste that hits before you feel it.”

  Well, that could be handy. A heck of a lot better than the movie-grams she got from touching people.

  Wait a minute. “You talk about it like you’ve felt it yourself.”

  Ramsay’s gaze slid to the sofa. “A little bit.”

  “You must be really tired. I didn’t come close to buying that one.”

  He leaned forward, elbows on his knees, hands clasped together. Those delicious lips of his screwed up to one side, like he couldn’t decide if he wanted to choke her or share dirty fantasies. “I have all Myren powers. So does Eryx. All Shantos men do. Eryx is our malran.”

  Well, shoot. The guy was a walking Myren lotto winner. No wonder he’d been cagey. “Malran?”

  “King, as you’d understand it.”

  Whoa. “So, Lexi’s a queen?”

  “Malress. And yes. A pretty feisty one, too. When Eryx found her in Oklahoma, she was tending bar and doing college part-time.”

  Okay, that was so cool. An honest to God queen. And they might be related. Definitely a story to pull out of Lexi someday when she wasn’t busy tiptoeing through informational land mines.

  Ramsay pushed to his feet and prowled toward her.

  Not good. He might have been reticent and tired of her questions two minutes ago, but the saunter headed her way said he’d recouped and re-strategized.

  She sat her drink on the concrete countertop with an unsteady clink. “So what does that make you? A prince or something?”

  Ramsay grinned, the distance between them closing fast. “A spare for the throne, and strategos for our warriors. What you’d probably call a commander in chief.”

  He wrapped his arms around her, one hand sliding up to the back of her neck and tilting her face to meet his. “You scare me.”

  The man had perfect lips. So close. Full and sinfully skilled.

  Wait. “Me?”

  His gaze roamed her face. “You.”

  She swallowed, the lingering trace of wine sticky at the back of her throat.

  “Everything about you tempts me into places I’m not sure I’m comfortable going.”

  She smoothed the fine cotton stretched across his chest. “You mean sex?”

  He studied her a second, his thumb moving in a hypnotic glide up and down her neck. “I mean serious.”

  So, that’s what Lexi had been referring to.

  “You’re…different,” he said. “Special. The kind of woman a man knows instinctively she’ll be worth walking through histus and back for.”

  He tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, and the contact flamed out in a wild current through every nerve ending. “The truth? Aside from my brother and sister, and maybe her fireann, Reese, I don’t think I’ve
even considered letting anyone else in. Too risky.”

  “Why is that?” The question barely registered, her throat still in shock from his touch and his honesty.

  Ramsay fingered the pendent between her breasts. “Too much disappointment. You let people get close, and then find out they’re not there when you need them.” He lifted his gaze and gave a wry smile. “Have I suitably owned up to everything now?”

  And then some. She wasn’t sure how she’d sleep tonight with all his commentary clattering around in her head. “I’d say you’re covered.”

  “Good, because Lexi threatened to cut my nuts off if I didn’t get it right.” He pulled her in for a tight hug. Not at all a sexual move. More comforting than anything. And wasn’t that disappointing.

  “I didn’t hear her say that,” she muttered into his hard chest. She could wallow in his scent for days. A little spicy. Definitely exotic. Maybe she could get him to give her sheets a quick brush over before he bailed on her.

  “Telepathy, remember?”

  Huh? Oh, Lexi threatening to cut his nuts off. Right. An ironic laugh bubbled up from deep inside her belly. The two of them were the most bizarre paradox. Both of them afraid of intimacy, her physically and him emotionally.

  “What’s so funny?” His question stirred the fine hairs at her temple and fired a perfect ripple down her spine.

  She wanted more. More touch. More experience. More memories. And who knew? Maybe they could help each other in the process and find some middle ground. “You want my help, right? To learn what you can about my background and see if it can untangle the prophecy?”

  He pulled back, the eyebrow scowl working on that perma-wrinkle at the top of his nose again.

  Trinity gripped his shoulders and held on tight. “Hear me out. That would help you and your family, right? To go through my past and see if there’s anything you can use?”

  He nodded, though definitely cautious.

  “And you feel…” Damn, what was the right word? “Something…for me. Enjoyable. You just don’t want the strings.”

  “You make it sound selfish.”

  “Not selfish. Honest.” She urged him closer, a part of her needing his inherent strength to feed her courage. “We could help each other. I can show you what I know.” Well, everything short of her Spiritu background. “And you can give me…”

  Oh, brother. She was out of her damned mind.

  Something lit behind his silver eyes. Something devious and oh-my-God naughty. “What?”

  Just spit it out. “Touch.” She licked her lip. “No strings, just physical enjoyment. Everything you know. Anything you can dream up while we research my background.”

  A wicked grin split his face, the kind that worked her body like a pair of super-charged jumper cables. “Trinity Blair. I do believe you’ve just propositioned me to be your fuck buddy.”

  Trinity would’ve staggered and crashed into the tiny breakfast bar if it weren’t for his steady hands at her waist. Her shoulders shook, a none-too-ladylike laughter bubbling up from her belly while her cheeks tightened on a huge smile. It felt good. Like someone had offloaded about fifty tons off her big toe. “I do believe I did.”

  She hiccupped on a particularly loud guffaw and clamped a hand over her mouth. Did she just say that? Out loud?

  But wait a minute. Ramsay wasn’t laughing.

  She looked up and sucked in a harsh breath.

  Heat. I’m-gonna-twist-your-panties-inside-out heat. The kind that made his silver eyes more like liquid steel with little flecks of white. And it was all centered on her.

  She braced her unsteady hand on his chest, and the muscle flexed beneath her palm. “Does that bother you?”

  For crying out loud, who was she, Jessica Rabbit? She sure as heck sounded like it.

  “Bother’s the wrong word.” His crooked grin disappeared and he focused on her lips. He moved in closer, and one hand tangled in her hair at the back of her head. “Rock-fucking-hard and eager are much better choices.”

  She couldn’t breathe. The space between them was too thick. Too clouded with something combustible and dangerous.

  He ran his nose alongside hers, those yummy lips of his so close her mouth tingled. “You want me to teach you? Show you all those delicious sensations you’ve been missing?”

  Oh, yes. Exactly that. Over and over again with a chance for extra credit. “Please.”

  His breath fluttered across her cheek, warm with a hint of something sweet. Cinnamon maybe.

  “I like that word on your lips.” He traced her collarbone. “I think I’ll make you say it a lot. Make you beg. Maybe toss in a few naughty words for fun.” He tilted her face up to meet his gaze. “Would you like that?”

  Her belly flip-flopped and her thighs tightened against the steady throb setting up shop between her legs. “I’d agree to anything if you’d stop talking and kiss me.”

  He tangled his fingers in her hair and a raw and primitive expression moved across his face. “Deal.”

  He slanted his mouth over hers, harsh and unforgiving, while his arms caged her against his body. His tongue plunged deep, slicking across hers and dueling in a way that made her insides clench for an entirely different invasion.

  Damn, but this was good. Slow, seductive Ramsay was one thing, but this… What the hell was it? Ravenous. Merciless.

  And it was perfect.

  She held on for dear life, one hand buried in his hair, the other nails-deep in his shoulder.

  “Legs.” He nipped her lower lip and cupped her ass, lifting her.

  Her mind might not have comprehended what he meant, but her body sure did, her legs wrapping around his hips and locking him up tight.

  He thrust against her core, the hands at her backside making damned sure she felt every inch of his hard length.

  “Ohhh.” She ground herself against him and centered on the bundle of nerves. Was he laughing? No wait. It was a groan. Or both. And they were moving.

  Her back met the mattress a second before she took his weight square between her thighs.

  “Praise The Great One.” He worked her tailored blouse off with jerky movements. A snap sounded, followed by the plip of a button hitting hardwood floors. “Need to see you. Want my mouth on your pussy again.”

  She fisted the hem of his T-shirt with both hands and yanked upward, their arms colliding as shirts went flying. His lips crushed against hers, frantic. Almost bruising. His hands were at the clasp of her bra, even as her shoes and slacks were pulled free.

  She jerked back as her pants slipped to the floor. “How’d you do that?”

  He grinned and pinned her hands at either side of her head. “Telekinesis, remember?” He eased back and took his sweet time pursuing every inch of her nearly naked body. The nude lace thong sure wasn’t doing much to cover what remained. “Convenient when a man’s got his hands on more important matters.”

  He slid his hands down her arms, the heat from his palms almost scalding as he cupped her breasts and flicked the hard tips with his thumbs. His warm breath coasted along her sternum, and a hint of stubble at his chin teased her skin. “Much more important matters.”

  His mouth closed around one nipple.

  She cried out and arched into the wet, delicious heat. God, she could get used to this. How had she lived without it? Worse, how would she live without it when he was gone?

  No.

  She shook the morbid thought away and reveled in the wicked path his lips and tongue trailed down her belly. He licked around her belly button and curled his fingers into the stretch lace at her hips. He pulled her panties free and nuzzled her cleft, inhaling deep while he pressed her thighs wide. “Yeah. Definitely, want this sweetness on my—”

  “Ramsay.” She scrambled out from underneath his diabolical mouth, rolled up, and faced him on shaky knees.

  He straightened beside the bed, a predatory wariness marking his face. “You wanna tell me why you just took away my snack?” Playful words, but pack
ed with edgy bite.

  She dropped her gaze and nearly swallowed her tongue. So she hadn’t imagined his size. Even with his jeans still on, it was obvious he was every bit as big and hard as he’d felt while she’d ground against him.

  “I was thinking…” Her mouth went dry and her mind tripped and tumbled, completely at a loss for words. She swallowed and crawled off the bed, standing in front of him. She could do this. He’d given her everything and she’d given him nothing. Even gone so far as to fall asleep on him.

  With a tentative touch, she traced his length through his jeans. “I was thinking this time I could take care of you first?”

  A low rumble sounded. Somewhere between a growl and agony. “It’s not about tit for tat. It’s about making each other feel good.”

  She flattened her palm and stroked, keeping her gaze locked onto his chest where it was safe. “When you—” Shit. What should she call it? “—took care of me. Did you enjoy it?”

  He flexed into her touch. “Watching you come? Knowing I was the first man to bring you there?” He palmed her nape. “Oh, yeah. Made my fucking century.”

  Tell him what you want. Just look up and say it. She scraped her nails against the denim on an upstroke.

  This time she got a definite growl out of him.

  She met his eyes. “If I told you I wanted to learn how to make a man feel good, would you show me?”

  His grip at her neck tightened and the tension between them jumped from sparks to razor sharp need. He covered her hand at his crotch with his own, pressing her palm harder against his shaft. “Baby, right now you could ask me to run naked in Times Square and I’d give it serious thought.” Another stroke, his gaze scorching hot and never leaving hers. “You sure?”

  No. Not at all. But then she’d left the bulk of her reason near the bottle of Ménage à Trois Red. “Yes,” she whispered.

  He cupped her face and traced her lower lip with his thumb. “The word stop means something where I’m from.” The words came out raspy. Broken and deep. “If it’s too much, you use it.”

  She nodded, the movement as jerky and awkward as the rhythm of her heart.