Page 107

He stared at the screen. “No. That morphogenesis is final. But through our research in Iceland, we discovered in nymphs a genetic code that isn’t transformed when they evolve. It’s dormant. You might carry the key that can reactivate it.”

“So let’s test the poison theory. Call in an aphid. Inject it with my blood.”

“How would we keep Aiman from feeling its exploding heart?”

“Good point.” I narrowed my eyes. “You’ve been keeping this from me.”

“I had to be sure.”

Of course, he did. I paced, pausing to gather the skirts of my gown in one hand. “Now what?”

The scuff of sandals sounded his approach and his hand caught my waist. Warm lips moved along my hairline, trailed down my cheek and hovered over mine. “You have become the path. Now you travel it.”

My hands crept up the carved brawn of his chest. “You may not want to follow then. I’m pretty sure it’s the path to hell.”

His fingers ambled around my back. “Can we leave now?”

I crushed my hips against his. “One more day. Find Jesse—”

A scratch screeched along the door. Then the banging began.

“Dammit.” I blew out a breath and skated away from him.

He stalked me in a graceful move of muscle. “We’ll give your savage one more day, but you should know I will not share you.”

My eyes widened, probably bugging out of my head. “I’m not yours to share—”

“You have a fierce exterior, but hidden beneath glows something precious. It offers promise to dreams this world hasn’t had in two years, dreams I haven’t had in a lifetime.”

My lungs filled and emptied as I lost my self-preservation in the burn of his gaze.

Hands at his sides, he stood before me, around me, consuming me. His voice was thick. “I love when you look at me like that. Even when you don’t speak, your stunning eyes hold nothing back. Your expressions are so heavy I can feel your emotions in the marrow of my bones.”

Aphid vibrations swarmed my gut, but my hand clutched my chest. “Michio.”

“I love that you were a mother and that you carry that experience with you always.”

His words landed a direct hit on my heart and my rib cage bucked under the impact. “Michio—”

“I love spending time with you.” He traced the stitches around my mouth. “I crave our talks, your baths, your tantrums, our fights—”

“Fight me now.”

His brows drew into a V.

To keep my pheromones directed at him only, I needed Yang to fuel the effort. Wrestling would put me right up against him. My hands found his chest. “If I get scratched, I’ll tell the savage to make your scalping quick.”

His pecs bounced under my curling fists, expression unreadable. “No holds barred?”

I shrugged.

He shifted his weight, pushed closer. “Tap out rules. My tap out rules.”

Sandalwood drifted from his thin shirt, beckoning me. My face dropped to his chest. “Hmm?”

“If you tap, you allow me to ease you.” The way he softened ease made me gulp. “I’ll start chaste. As the taps accumulate, so will the intensity.”

“Ease me how?”

“You know how,” he mouthed.

My nipples hardened. How far would it go? Kissing? Sex? “And when you tap?”

“If I tap, I’ll reveal a secret about my discipline.”

The bastard. I wanted answers regarding his fighting techniques. “What about the Drone?”

He nuzzled my neck. “Won’t be back till tomorrow.”

A swelter funneled between my thighs. I fought it. The buzzing beyond the door magnified.

I stepped back and stripped my oppressive garment. When only my chemise remained, I kicked at the skirt around my ankle. Then I ripped the material away to mid-thigh. It felt a little vulnerable without underwear, but I shook off the feeling and faced him.

He raised a brow.

“Really, Michio. It’s not like you haven’t seen it all already. Besides, how would I pummel your ass when I’m wrapped like a goddamn mummy?” I kicked away the shreds of clothes on the floor.

“You agree to the terms?”

I nodded and centered my stance.

You suppose you are the trouble

But you are the cure

You suppose that you are the lock on the door

But you are the key that opens it

It’s too bad that you want to be someone else

You don’t see your own face, your own beauty

Yet, no face is more beautiful than yours.

Rumi

Michio’s slouched posture seduced me into action. I aimed for his throat. My fist hit air.

From out of nowhere, his forearm crossed my neck and pitched me backwards. My eyes closed for the impact, but my downward motion ceased mid-fall.

I cracked an eye. Almond shaped ones stared back, and my body hung in the cradle of his arms.

He leaned in, his breathtaking face filling my horizon, and kissed me with lips as strong as the rest of him. Just as quick, he set me on my feet.

I rose to my full height. “I didn’t even tap.”

He towered over me. “You would have. When you hit the floor.”