Page 25 of Rise of the Gods: Vardor’s Destiny (Time for Monsters)

T he nerve of that woman. I was so infuriated, I didn't stop to contemplate why I was so jealous. But I was, or I had been. Watching Cassandra flirt with Vardor had been more than a repeat of the last six months with Thomas. There I had simply felt like I didn't fit in, like I wasn't welcome. Here, I wasn't about to let that woman push me to the side, walk all over me like Countess Harriet and her... and her... and her bitchy friends. There! I said it.

If I had learned one thing during the past six months, though, it was how ladies verbally sparred. Being put in a corner and forgotten did have its advantages. My ears had burned many times as I listened to them talk or battle each other with words.

Tonight, it had felt good. So good. I felt a hundred pounds lighter for having aired my emotions, not even caring that Cassandra regarded me with venom for the rest of the dinner. I actually enjoyed it, to be honest.

"Are you cold?" Vardor asked, standing next to me at the stern of the ship.

"No." I wasn't. The air was still warm, and even if it hadn't been, fire still surged through my veins, making me feel more alive than I ever had before.

The night was beautiful. In London, I barely got to see the stars, but here, they filled the canvas all around us. The waning moon was barely visible, barely sending out any illumination, making it better yet.

"So beautiful," I said, craning my neck, staring at the millions and millions of stars, some brighter, some more dimmed. The water beneath us was pitch-black; hardly any waves curled the surface as the armed merchantman sliced through it.

"Undeniably so," he said, and I felt his heated gaze on me. His arm slung around my waist. A most inappropriate gesture between an unmarried couple. But we are pretending to be married , a little voice whispered. A tempting voice. And I would be lying if I said his hand resting on my hip didn't feel good. Its warmth seared through my clothes, made my skin pebble and burn.

"Just relax," he coached, and with a sigh, I gave in to the temptation. I leaned against him, resting my head on his broad chest.

A feeling of contentment and bliss enveloped me like a mantle. The way we stood felt strangely familiar, felt like... coming home. His masculine scent of amber and citrus reached my nostrils, and I closed my eyes. I told myself it was to relish the moment, but it was more, so much more.

"Roweena." His voice was hoarse, and his head tilted down toward me.

I looked up and gasped. His expression was filled with so much raw hunger and desire that my knees threatened to give in underneath me. My heart hitched, and I tried to look away. Decorum dictated I look away, but I just couldn't.

His head inched closer. Ever closer. So close I felt his warm breath caress my skin. The fluttering sensation in my stomach increased, and then his lips were on mine. It was like a jolt of lightning had hit me. Every fiber of me was on fire; every nerve, every cell burned with desire for more. Whatever that more was, my body seemed to recognize it even as my mind remained ignorant.

Never in a hundred years would I have thought his lips could be that soft. The tip of his tongue teased my mouth. I should have been shocked, outraged. I should have slapped him for his forwardness. I should have screamed, yelled. But I did none of those things. Instead, I stood frozen as the hand by my hip moved to my lower back, pushing me closer to him.

"Open," he demanded. And I obeyed.

His tongue entered my mouth like a conquering army, and everything changed. The same hunger I had seen on his face raced through me, consumed me, overtook any rational thinking. My hands clutched his shirt as I held on to him. His tongue snaked around mine, exploring my mouth. Good God, nobody had told me that a kiss would feel this good. Why hadn't anybody told me?

He was searing me alive, and I didn't mind one bit. I was melting right into him. I clung to him, delirious with the new sensations spreading through me. I hardly noticed him picking me off the ground, walking us down the stairs, down the hallway. From far, far away I heard the slamming of the door as he kicked it closed with his foot. I didn't want this kiss to end. I feared the end of the kiss.

He sat down on something soft. The bed? Most likely, I didn't open my eyes. I was already lost in his arms, our lips fused. I didn't think this could get any better until his large, calloused hand began moving up and down my side. His thumb brushed the outline of my breast, and a new fire started inside me. Liquid pooled between my legs, a sensation I didn't quite understand, but it must have had something to do with the delicious emotions he aroused inside me.

His thumb brushed a little harder and his hand moved forward. He cupped my breast through the material of my dress, and I nearly exploded in pleasure. A soft moan escaped him; his tongue retreated. Had I done something wrong?

His lips retreated, only to move down my throat, up to my ear, his hot breath penetrated my dizzy mind, goosebumps spread, leaving a trail following his kisses. Fingers worked their way down the many buttons holding together my dress at my back. Material fell off my shoulders, moved down to my waist.

"What in the underworld's name is this?" Vardor snarled as his hands encountered my corset.

The world seemed to tilt around me as my eyes slowly opened. His fingers worked on the strings and loops holding the corset in place.

"How can you even breathe with that thing?" He demanded.

With a small cry, I realized I was half naked, sitting on his lap like a... like a wanton. Wanton! That's what I was.

I jumped off his lap, grabbed the top of my dress, and pulled it up to my throat, backing up toward the wall. His face creased as his eyes followed my retreat. My blood was rushing fast through my veins, but that wasn't the only thing pulsing. A new beat had picked up between my legs. Combined with the fluids drenching me, something throbbed right by my entrance, and a deep ache, a longing for... for... I had no words for what spread inside me.

My hand flew up as if to ward him off as he stepped right into my space. His chest collided with my palm, but he didn't stop, not until it was wedged firmly between us. His thumb moved under my chin, gently pushing it up so I had to look into his deep, dark eyes. "Roweena?"

"I... I'm sorry, I shouldn't have... I've..."

Vardor's head cocked to the side, his eyes probing me. "Did I do something wrong?"

"I..." There were no words to describe how I felt. At least none I could say to him. How could I explain this war inside me? This war of wanting more while also being utterly shocked by what I had allowed to happen? A shadow of guilt, hurt, and confusion moved across his features and tore at my heart.

"You are no gentleman," I accused before I could form the words in my mind.

He threw his head back and laughed. Loud and heartily, right from his belly. Indignantly, I tried to wiggle away from him, but he kept me firmly pressed against the wall.

"Roweena, I have been many things in my life. A son, a brother, a warrior, a lover, an enemy, a ruthless leader, a god. But one thing I have never been and never will be is a gentleman."

His obvious insanity in insisting that he was a god should have made it easier for me to push down all these demanding sensations inside me, but it didn't. Instead, it heated me more.

"We're only pretending to be husband and wife," I tried to hiss the words to let him know that I was incensed, but they were too husky to my own ears.

"I don't understand." There was no contrition in him, only curiosity.

"A man and a woman don't do this..." I huffed, looking for a word, wanting to use my trapped hand to make a circle in the air to indicate us, but he didn't give any indication of letting it go anytime soon, "this... kissing... unless they're married."

"Oh," he nodded as if remembering something. He was good in his act, really good. Almost believable. "You need a priest to speak words over you before you can fuck."

My face turned beet-red at the crude word. I think my eyes even bulged. I had heard that word whispered before, knew of its existence, but nobody ever had voiced it to me, not aloud.

"You know what? Your stupid act is getting old. You know exactly what a marriage is." I pushed against his chest, but I might as well have tried to move a boulder. There was no give. All I could do was voice my outrage. "You are no god. You are a mortal like everyone else."

As soon as the words left my mouth, I regretted them. Had I gone too far? I would have loved to retreat further, but I couldn't. I was trapped literally between a rock and a hard place.

His jaw worked, and his eyes darkened; he was getting angry. We had shared many things in the past few weeks, but the only time I had ever seen him angry was when he broke other men's necks. Would he hurt me now? I had gotten too comfortable with him. I had forgotten to watch my words, had forgotten that I was his captive, not his partner, or whatever else one might call me.

"You still don't believe me?" He roared. His hand fisted. I wanted to close my eyes, but he didn't hit me. He hit the wall, cracking the wood. He showed me his knuckles. "Not broken, no blood."

I was too stricken to comprehend what he was showing me. Without warning, he pushed himself off me and the wall and moved to the single round table in our cabin. A thoughtful soul had left apples and oranges in a basket with a knife. He grabbed the knife and came back to me. Fear threatened to choke me. He held the knife out to me. "Stab me."

"What? No!" I still couldn't shrink back any further. The wall behind me wouldn't give.

He took my hand and pushed the knife into it, closing my fingers over the hilt.

"No, Vardor, no! What are you doin—" I couldn't finish the sentence, I screamed as he forced my hand holding the knife forward, plunging it into his stomach. He was crazy, he was a madman! I expected my hand to be drenched in blood when he finally let go of it and allowed the knife to clatter to the floor. But there was none. His vest and shirt were cut, but there was not a nick on his skin.

How in the heavens was that possible?

My mind spun. The room spun. Bile rose in my throat, but darkness enveloped me before I could empty my stomach.