Dreams of a Dark Warrior

“Turn around. And eyes forward.”
    Eyes forward? She didn’t give him a chance to change his mind, quickly twisting to give him her back.
    She heard him pull off a glove, so tempted to peek. What didn’t he want her to see?
    Declan’s scarred hand looked monstrous next to her perfect, glowing skin. A timely reminder.
    I will never let her see these scars.
    Once he’d unlocked the cuffs and hastily draggedhis glove back on, she hopped off the desk and began exploring his quarters, just as she had his office. He merely observed as she investigated the refrigerator, opened drawers and closets.
    She tried to open the weapons locker and couldn’t. “What’s in here? Your personal arsenal?”
    Precisely. But he said nothing. She grew bored with it soon enough and continued her exploration, heading toward the bathroom.
    From inside, she called, “Taking you up on your bath offer! Tale to follow. I’ll just yoink some shampoo and soap.” Then she began running the water.
    He strode inside in time to see her traipsing naked to the bath, that exquisite ass swishing, the ends of her blond hair swaying just above the small of her back.
    He took a stutter step, hardening at once. Running a hand over his mouth, he turned and began to pace outside the door.
Go watch her bathe. She’s naked but for her collar. In my keeping.
He experienced a sharp masculine thrill to have a female like that under his power.
    “I don’t suppose you’ll reconsider washing me?” she called. “Maybe my back? Or my front?”
    Though she was a forbidden immortal, he almost wished he could do both. He scowled down at his gloved hands.
    Steam began to waft from the bathroom. When sweat beaded his upper lip, he hated anew the layers of clothes he was forced to wear. With a muffled curse, he entered the hazy room to find her reclining in the tub, blanketed by a mound of bubbles. She raised oneglowing leg in the air and smoothed her hands down it.
    He imagined following her hands with his mouth. …
    Most immortals weren’t shy about nudity, but she behaved as if they’d done this a hundred times.
A man watching his woman in the bath.
Of course, in her mind, they
had
done this a hundred times.
    With as much nonchalance as he could manage—considering he was hard as wood—he sat on a bench by the wall. Enough distance between them.
    She smiled at him. “Come join me.”
    “No’ likely.” To have her slippery skin rubbing against his? Half of him shuddered with want, the other half recoiling. He could only imagine her reaction to the sight of his scars.
    Though Declan might not deserve to be, he was a proud man; he would never risk that humiliation.
    “Your loss.” As she began leisurely washing her hair, the tips of her ears peeked out. Pointed ears. Another example of how alien she was.
    Yet now he was so far gone that he could admit he found them intensely attractive.
    When she briefly ducked under the water to rinse her hair, the bubbles began dissipating, almost revealing her breasts. Would they match what he’d seen of her in his dreams?
    He distrusted this female, had the urge to throttle her at times, might even hate her.
And still I’ve got to see her breasts—
    “Ahem. Should we get to the tale?” She’d caught him peering hard at her chest.
    “Go on, then.”
    “Tonight, I’ll tell you the story of when you were Gabriel, a lusty pirate. You found me five hundred years ago during the last Accession.”
    Wasn’t this the reincarnation representing humor and sex? Declan could recognize that Regin was humorous, the things she said outrageous, but he was missing the humor gene. Nor was he a good lover. And he didn’t see those traits changing anytime soon.
    If Declan had been jealous of Aidan and even of Treves, this pirate should send him through the roof.
    Regin relaxed back in the bath, or at least, she
appeared
to relax. She was on a mission.
    She might not be a golden-tongued Valkyrie, but she was resolved to take down Chase, intended to go full guns and turn up the heat.
    All I need is one kiss.
    She would detail Gabriel’s relentless seduction, their sensual battle of wills waged nightly in his sultry cabin. She had struggled to deny the Spaniard to save him from the curse; he’d used everything he knew to seduce her. …
    “Gabriel was a privateer who answered only to his queen,” Regin said. “His flag—a crimson pennant with two ravens in flight—struck fear in anyone who had the misfortune of seeing