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“I’m sorry. I never…I’ve never done that. Called water without knowing it. I don’t know how—” She stopped babbling, caught by a random thought. “It is true that intense emotion can sometimes trigger our abilities, so
perhaps passion? I should write this down.”
Ethan’s arms tightened around her. “I have a better idea, my beautiful scholar. Why don’t you write it all down later? The adrenaline reaction stuff you told me about earlier, the raining, the glowing. All of it.”
He smiled, and there was much of smug male triumph in it. “Be sure to spell my name right in the ‘passion causes rain’ part, okay? E-T-H—”
She shoved at his chest, smiling in spite of herself. “I think I’ll remember your name. I’ve certainly used it enough times this night.”
He rolled onto his back, pulling her with him, and she felt his penis hardening against her leg. “How is that possible? Are you able to rouse again so soon due to your dual nature?” she wondered aloud.
“No, this is all you,” he said, tangling his fingers in her hair. “Why don’t we see how many more times you can call my name?”
She kissed him until she was breathless, then lifted her head. “You are very arrogant.”
“Yeah, I am,” he agreed lazily. “But maybe this time you’ll call a thunderstorm.”
Then he rolled her underneath him and was anything but lazy for a very long time.
Ethan stood at the window, looking out at the spectacular view of Big Cypress. Dawn’s first warm glow touched the tops of trees, ribbons of light with gilt edges, like packages waiting to be opened by eager children.
The comparison led him to thoughts of the children of the pride, who looked to him as a role model for how a modern shape-shifter could interact with other shape-shifters, with the humans and, now, with the Atlanteans. Trying to work toward common goals and against common enemies.
What if Travis’s mind worked like Fallon’s had? What if he planned to take Ethan’s pride and turn it over to the vampires? Organos was dead, but it never took long for another bloodsucker to pop up and fill a vacuum.
“A peacock feather for your thoughts.” Her warm voice soothed and caressed him, bringing a smile to his face and a shimmer of interest to parts of his body that should have been limp with exhaustion.
He turned away from the window and took a moment to study her. In the faint morning light, she glowed like a jewel among her colored scarves that lay scattered across his bed.
He’d always have fond memories of those scarves.
He leapt across the space that separated them and dove onto the bed, catching her in his arms. “Peacock feather? We say penny. Don’t the peacocks protest?”
“We only offer peacock feathers that are found lying about, silly man. We don’t go around plucking palace peacocks.”
“Plucking palace peacocks? Now say that three times fast,” he murmured, bemused by this woman and her exotic expressions. Her exotic experiences. Hell, she’d made it rain in his bedroom.
Three times.
He kissed her neck and inhaled deeply, drawing the scent of warmth and sex and ocean-kissed skin into his nostrils. His scent was on her, too, he realized. The thought of it pleased him more than it should have.
He was getting possessive about her, and he had no right.
Which pissed him off.
“What does time have to do with it, anyway?” he demanded.
She blinked. “I beg your pardon?”
Cursing himself for a fool, he jumped up and off the bed. “You should. Beg my pardon, that is. If you think you’re going to just use me for sex and abandon me. Go back to Atlantis.”
A slow smile spread across her face, and she sat up, not bothering to lift the sheet to cover herself. He found himself hypnotized by the sight of her creamy breasts, their rosy tips pointing up at him.
“I confess I am delighted at the idea of being thought seductive enough to use you for sex,” she purred, laughing at him.
But, no. She was laughing with him, he realized, and it was very different. Her laughter was inviting and welcoming, not mocking. He suddenly felt a cold, black mass in his chest rip open and let air and warmth and her own gentle summer rain into his heart.
It scared the crap out of him.
