Tethered (Novella) - By Meljean Brook Page 0,29

deceptive, he knew. She could spring at any moment. “It is only a reply to Lord Scarsdale.”

Scarsdale. Though never Yasmeen’s lover, the man had touched her, kissed her when Archimedes couldn’t…when he hadn’t wanted anything more than the woman Scarsdale had beneath his hands and lips.

Old jealousy sparked; over the course of a step, Archimedes blew that spark into a conflagration. “I don’t want you to write him again. Or see him.”

Her brow arched. “No?”

“I’ll kill him if you do.” And by God, he meant it.

A cruel little smile curved her mouth. “After your performance tonight, maybe I’ll go back to him. He doesn’t even desire women and managed to get hard with me.”

Go back to him? Rage flared, burning hot. Blind with it, fists shaking, he barely stopped himself from charging, rooted his feet to the deck.

Her body smashed into his without warning and sent him staggering. He caught his balance; she caught his hair, yanked his head back. Her strong legs wrapped his hips. Sharp teeth snapped near his ear, then closed over his exposed throat, her tongue hot against his skin. Archimedes froze as she bit, exquisite needles of pain.

She could kill him like this, so easily.

The heat of rage consumed itself, smoldered into lust. His blood raced, the tension in his muscles subtly shifting from wariness to anticipation. His cock stiffened, ached. He held her against him, her taut bottom filling his palms.

Yasmeen.

He breathed her name. She released his throat, dragged her tongue beneath his jaw. Shuddering, he lifted her against his erection, grinding between her thighs, and a groan ripped from his chest. God, this feeling. So rough, so sweet. No other woman had ever excited him as she did. No other woman ever would.

Her breath rasped in his ear, each inhalation ragged, as if her control was as tattered as his, the need to touch overwhelming.

With her legs anchored around him, she loosened her grip in his hair. He caught her hands, drew them down. No need to hold him, to bite him. He was all right now, exactly where he wanted to be, and this was him, hungry for her. Her claws thrilled him, but he didn’t need them. He didn’t need her to threaten him. He just needed her. He just needed to show her that the disinterest had been a lie, that he could never not want her, and to soothe the hurt he’d caused. It wasn’t the danger that excited him; it was her. Only her.

Her pulse thrummed beneath his thumbs as he captured her hands behind her back, gently shackling her wrists with his fingers. He’d use only his tongue now, and show her—

Yasmeen’s body exploded into motion against his. She ripped out of his arms, her foot shoving into his chest—not hard, just enough to get away. Still, shock sent him tripping backward.

The same shock was reflected on her face. Crouching on the deck boards, Yasmeen stared at him, openmouthed. “I didn’t…” She swallowed hard. “Don’t restrain my hands.”

Oh, now that was pain. Anger came with it. “You don’t trust me?”

Her jaw tightened. “That’s not what I said.”

“I know. You said today, ‘I know you’d never hurt me,’” he mocked her accent. “I see how well you mean it.”

“You don’t see anything.” Her eyes narrowed, and she shifted her weight, as if preparing to pounce. Christ, his cock had never been this hard before. “You’re a goddamn fool right now.”

“Your fool.” He spat the words, and she laughed. Laughed.

“And God help us,” she said—but didn’t pounce. Her attack was far more liquid than that, a sublime dance of muscle and stealth. He had but a moment to watch, her deadly beauty striking him speechless, motionless.

Then she was behind him, around him, dragging him down to the boards. Her knees pinned his arms; her weight across his stomach stole his breath. She leaned down, her incredible face directly over his.

“Archimedes.” She whispered his name and pressed her lips to his jaw. “Archimedes.”

He opened his mouth to answer, but she took it from him with a soft, searching kiss. His eyes burned. The ache that filled his chest was unbearable, but he wanted more of it, more of this. A kiss meant she loved him.

Loved him.

God, and this was what he’d come back for. What he’d feared might have been destroyed. And he had been a fool—not to run, but to think that he would find what he needed anywhere but here.

He trembled, and she released his arms. He held