The Darkness in Dreams (Enforcer's Legacy, #1)(42)

Which was what it was, she reminded herself ruthlessly. An old dynamic, nothing more than imprints centuries old. Those experiences had not happened to her. She was not Gaia, or any of the other G names associated with past lives. And yet her body softened, opened and made her wonder how he would taste with the taste of her on his lips. How his fingers would feel deep inside, or if his hands would tangle in her hair and hold her while she…

Water splashed as Lexi jerked upright, listened hard for sounds from the next room. Christan wasn’t there, couldn’t possibly be there. He hated her in this life, and maybe that was the most insane part when you cut right down to the center, that her own damn imagination was spinning fantasies about a man who hated her.

Her phone chimed. It was in the pocket of her jeans, which she’d tossed onto the floor. Lexi slid from the bath, one foot out, the other in as she retrieved the cell phone and glanced at the caller identification.

“Marge? Everything okay?”

“Just checking in, making sure you were safe.”

“I’m fine.” Lexi had been hiding out these past two weeks and knew Marge was concerned. But it was too cold to go up to the main lodge. Lexi explained that she preferred to fix something light to eat, and then she would head off to bed.

“Well… call if you have trouble getting to sleep. I’m always here.” It was the tone Marge used when she needed someone to nurture.

“Isn’t Robbie around?” It was the best way to send Marge in another direction, and Lexi heard the soft laugh, then a male voice in the background, the rustle of clothing. “Uh, Marge, we can catch up in the morning.”

And it was as easy as that when Lexi wanted privacy.

But the bath was cold and she was halfway out. Lexi wrapped herself in one of the white towels from the towel warmer. The heat caressed her skin while rain beat steadily against the skylight above the sink. Exhaustion claimed her, physically, emotionally. Normally Lexi slept in the nude, but it was cold and she’d had enough restless nights with the sheets against her raw skin. She needed the tee shirt she preferred, and underwear. They were in the bureau in the bedroom. Wrapping the towel tighter, Lexi opened the bathroom door.

And discovered she was not alone.




Christan was crouched in front of the fireplace, shoving the last few twigs beneath a stack of split logs. At the sound of the door he straightened to his full height. His massive presence held the whispers of the night, warm and passionate and so natural Lexi felt her heart kick.

He remained partially obscured by shadow. Deliberately. Lexi caught the faintest scent of his skin, clean and male and filled with wild power. He was every bit as dangerous as the lion on the path; she saw it the way he stared at her fingers where she gripped the edges of the towel.

She shivered and said the first thing that came to mind.

“I need my clothes.” Her throat was tight with strain. “They’re in the bureau.”

She watched as Christan leaned back against the piece of furniture. He braced both palms on either side of his hips, his gaze drifting down her body, following the trickle of bath water over her calf toward her ankle.

“This bureau?” His voice sounded casual as if she’d asked about the weather. But Lexi heard something dangerous and crystalline beneath the surface. She grew annoyed, which seemed to amuse him.

“Yes, that bureau.” Her chin lifted. “Why are you here?”

“There’s a storm.” He glanced at a small table in a darkened corner. “I brought you dinner.”

Lexi looked at the tray covered with a variety of bowls and dishes, tried to hide her shock at the amount of food. Perhaps he hadn’t known what she liked to eat.

“I brought too much, didn’t I?”

He sounded irritated. Lexi shook her head to let him know the food was fine. Her hair was still wet. Water dripped down her throat and she shoved the heavy mass back, keeping her attention on the way his eyes darkened. He was studying her right hand, the two faint lines curling beneath the skin.

The room grew colder. Lexi couldn’t suppress the shivers across her shoulders. Goosebumps pebbled her arms, and he was studying those, too. With a subtle movement, he gestured toward the fireplace. Flames blossomed around the logs, spreading out the first hint of warmth.

“So,” she said, feeling drawn to the steady pulse in his throat.

“So,” he mimicked, a hardness in his voice that she would always associate with him. Firelight disappeared in strands of his hair, rimmed the edge of his chiseled face with copper and gold. He was looking at the beads of water on her thigh as if he wanted to lick them from her skin. Drawing in a deep breath, Lexi forced herself to remind him of her clothes.

“In this bureau.” He pushed his hips away, a sensual movement that hitched her breath. He had no intention of moving aside and she had no intention of getting that close.

“Yes, in that bureau.”

“And you want them.” He flicked that dangerous hand and the top drawer slid open. He reached inside, and the thought of those hard, male fingers resting on her panties made the muscles in her thighs cramp.

“I didn’t give you permission to touch my clothes.” Lexi’s voice was hoarse. His was just as deep.

“Not in this life, perhaps. But in others.”

“This is the life that requires permission.”