Children of the Sea 03 - Sea Lord

hands behind his back. “Your brother knew what he risked and what he rejected. You do not.”
    “I heard you talking on the stairs.” She sorted through the jumble of memories and emotions, picking her Page 56
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    words. “You said I carried the bloodline. My mother’s bloodline. You said I had the right to choose.”
    “They should have told you.”
    “Well, they didn’t.” Her lips trembled and then firmed. Her family’s failure to include her, to trust her, still hurt. “And neither did you.”
    And that hurt even more. It scared her, that he had the power to hurt her emotionally.
    “I’m telling you now,” he said evenly.
    “Telling me.” She stood on shaky legs. “Not asking me. What happened to my right to choose? I’m entitled to say no.”
    “You said yes.” His voice was clipped and precise. “In the garden.”
    His hand gripping her jaw, his face dark and intent above her, haloed by the blue, blue sky.
    “Come with me,” he commanded. “Come.”
    She shuddered a little in longing and reaction. “I don’t remember saying anything.”
    “Your actions were assent enough.”
    Her cheeks burned. “I agreed to have sex with you. Not have your babies.”
    His jaw bunched. “Humans do conceive after sex. Or did that not occur to you when you were under me?”
    He might as well have punched her in the stomach. All her breath went. Her knees wobbled. She hadn’t even considered the possibility she might be pregnant.
    Stupid, stupid, stupid.
    “I got carried away,” she mumbled. “I won’t again.”
    He flowed across the room to her in two quick strides. “You will.”
    She threw up her hands, panicked. If he touched her, she was lost. “I can’t. You can’t make me.”
    He stopped dead. Their eyes locked.
    Her heart hammered under her breastbone. He could, she realized. Who would stop him? Who would even blame him?
    “ My people are dying, ” he had said with a look. With such a look. He wrenched her heart.
    Oh, God. She could feel herself slipping, feel her resolve eroding like sand. What should she do?
    They faced each other across a foot of bare floor. Tension hummed between them. He was so close, so big and male. If he reached for her, would she scream? Fight him?
    Or would she let him do anything he wanted?
    Everything she wanted.
    “I will not force you,” he said coldly.
    Relief rushed through her. Of course it was relief. That crash of feeling couldn’t possibly be anything else.
    Let-down. Disappointment.
    She sucked in her breath, aware of the rise and fall of her breasts under the padded silk. “Okay,” she said cautiously, waiting for the “but.” She was pretty sure there was a “but.”
    “Neither can I let you go. You belong here. In time you will come to accept that.”
    The tension spilled as anger. “I’m not some homesick kid at summer camp. I won’t wake up one morning and suddenly decide to get with the program.”
    “Nevertheless, you will stay.” His austere face looked hard and worn, like a stone carving of a medieval king or a saint. “You will sleep here tonight.”
    She twisted her sash, holding on to her self-control. She felt restless, itchy, disagreeable.
    Dissatisfied .
    “This is your room,” she said.
    “Yes. You are safe here.”
    “Really.” She hardly recognized that hard, provoking voice as her own. An itch built in her blood and crackled under her skin. “Who’s going to protect me from you?”
    His gaze moved over her face. “Is it me you must defend against?” he murmured. “Or yourself?”
    Her hand flew to strike him. He gripped her wrist, letting her feel his strength. Held her, while her pulse beat a frantic tattoo in her throat and the air throbbed thick between them. His eyes darkened. His grip shifted.

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    She felt the beat of his blood through his fingers on her wrist, pounding through her, overtaking the rhythm of her heart. Her pulse slowed to match his. His heart drove hers, one pulse, one beat. He pulled her close, closer, until his face was an inch from hers. She was surrounded by him, his scent, his heat.
    Her lungs clogged. His breath skated over her lips. She parted them in anticipation, almost tasting the wine of his kiss.
    And still he didn’t close the gap between them. His mouth hovered over hers, daring her participation, taunting