Free Rebel by Kristina Douglas Page B

hesitated—“here.”He didn’t connect, but I could feel him, feel the warmth of his skin, too close. The odd buzz of power between us.
    I didn’t jerk back as I wanted to, and I was proud of myself. “Please don’t touch me,” I said in a controlled voice, and scrambled to my feet.
    “Why not?”
    “You’re like a three-year-old, you know?” I snapped, goaded. I never showed annoyance or discomfiture. I was calm, nurturing Martha, efficient in all things but my visions. But Cain managed to get under my skin like a rash. Last night’s absurd dream flashed through my mind, and I felt myself blush. “I’ve never heard so many questions in my life,” I continued, trying to sound more amenable and failing. “Sometimes there is no answer, it simply is.”
    “And your not wanting to be touched ‘simply is’? Or is it that you’re afraid after what happened last night?”
    I panicked. How did he know about my dream? And then I realized he was talking about that strange electric shock that had sparked between us, and I took a deep breath.
    “Nothing happened last night,” I said. Two lies in four words.
    He moved closer, and I would have given anything to be six inches taller. My eyes were level with his beautiful, enticing mouth, and I wanted to look at anything but that.
    “Nothing happened?” he echoed. “You’re telling me you didn’t feel it?”
    “Feel what?” I said stubbornly.
    “Should I touch you again, just to see what happens?”
    So close. If I just swayed slightly, I could brush against him. I could smell his clean, masculine scent above the perfume of the rich soil and the roses, and it called to me. The sea. And leather. And sex. Tempting me.
    “I asked you not to touch me,” I heard my voice say, stiff, prudish, not at all like me.
    For a moment he didn’t move, and then the slow grin appeared on his face. A second later he stepped back, releasing the odd hold he had over me. “Not now,” he said. “I’ll give you a little more time to wonder what will happen when I do.”
    I fought down the sudden alarm. “What do you mean?”
    “Now who’s asking too many questions? You know as well as I do what I mean. When I really touch you. When I get you into bed.”
    He was trying to shock me again. The calm tone of those last words had belied the meaning, and he expected me to run away, to panic.
    Not likely. Yesterday he’d thrown me into turmoil. Today he was simply one more annoyance, one more distraction that I could easily deal with. “Get over yourself.”I managed a disinterested drawl. “I’m sure there are other people who would be much more fun to annoy. I’m not interested in playing whatever game you’ve got going.”
    He tilted his head, surveying me like a judge at a horse show, teeth to withers. “Maybe you’re not.” His voice was low, and it felt almost physical, wrapping around my skin. “But I plan to change your mind. You can fight it all you want. You can run away, you can tattle to Raziel or whomever. But in the end you’re going to come to me. You’ll give me your body, you’ll let my mouth move over every inch of your skin, you’ll give me your sweet, hot blood, and you’ll weep with pleasure when I take it.”
    I stared at him, mesmerized by his voice, until the meaning of his seductive words broke through, and then I backed away, furious. “Are you somehow so delusional that you think I’m your bonded mate? Because that’s insane. I’ve already been bonded, and even though Thomas is dead I will always be his wife. The laws are very clear. A woman cannot bond twice.”
    “Laws are made to be broken,” he said, unmoved by my anger. “But no, you’re not my one true love, which I know relieves you.” He smiled at me, that charming, devilish smile that was making all the women weak in the knees. Not me.
    I gave a derisive snort. “Then you can’t takemy blood. It would kill you.” And good riddance, I thought.
    “And good riddance,”