Bearing Armen - Book Three Read online

  * * * *

  Michelle moved so quickly that Devon didn’t register her intent until she was off the bed. By the time he was beside her, she had her ‘come fuck me’ heels on.

  “What do you think you’re doing?” he demanded.

  “Going home.”

  “Why?”

  She didn’t answer. Her hand closed on the trench coat.

  Realization that she’d come to him in nothing but the lingerie and coat caused him to harden more forcefully. He reasoned back his response. I am not going to fuck her. I am not going to fuck her on the dresser.

  Common sense rocked him back to course. He snatched the coat away, shaking his head, trying to force words.

  Michelle turned on him, her eyes wide in shock. “My coat,” she demanded.

  “You are not returning home this way.”

  “I came here—”

  “No,” he growled.

  “Excuse me?”

  Reason deserted him. “You cannot...” He motioned to her state of undress, vaguely aware of the pulse in his cock.

  “If you’d hand me my coat, I’d be properly covered,” she snapped.

  He shook the coat, noting the faint jingle of keys from the pocket. “This is not properly covered. Not for a woman traveling alone at night.”

  “It wasn’t dark when I arrived here.”

  “It is now,” he managed through clenched teeth.

  Michelle glared at him, then turned and strode to his discarded shirts. The lace molded to the curves of her ass as she leaned and snatched his button-down shirt up.

  Gleaning her intention, Devon started dressing as well. He glanced at her, fastening his jeans, calculating how best to defuse her. The keys. He swept them from her coat pocket and into his jeans silently.

  She turned, snatching the coat from his hand, pulling it on over the dress-like shirt as he retrieved his t-shirt and weapons belt. By the time she’d tied it, forsaking the buttons, he’d gotten dressed, save his socks and boots, sloppily though it was.

  Michelle headed for the door, her posture stiff in anger. He bit back a smile as her hand dipped into the coat pocket and she stopped abruptly. She checked the other pocket, muttered a curse, then turned back, searching the floor around the dresser, giving him the time he needed to finish dressing and straighten his clothing.

  Devon fastened the last buckle on his boots, stood and pulled on his jacket. “Ready to go?” he asked.

  Her jaw tightened and her eyes narrowed. She raised her hand, palm-up. “My keys,” she ordered.

  “When you’re safe at home.”

  “When you’ve walked me to my car,” she countered.

  He shook his head. Devon raised an eyebrow in challenge at her growl of frustration.

  Her face went crimson in barely-leashed fury. “It’s five miles home, Devon.”

  “Five miles you’re not traveling alone.”

  “You have no right—”

  “A protected obeys Warriors in matters of safety.”

  “You’re not of my house.”

  “I’m a Warrior, and I know for a fact that you don’t listen to the Warriors of your house, either. You’re right. I’m not one of them; I won’t put up with it.”

  Michelle sputtered for a moment. “I’ll ask for a judgment,” she warned.

  “Then I’m guilty of seeing to his daughter’s safety. Are you ready to go?”

  She seemed to work that through, no doubt coming to the realization that the Lord Armen would side with Devon if it was presented that way. “Give me my keys and follow me.”

  He smiled. “Your brother says you are quite the driver. Attended a certain race-driving school and came out with flying colors? I don’t think we’ll be testing that tonight.”

  A smile curved her lips. “And how will you get back here? You’re not using my truck.”

  “I’ll manage.”

  “Fine. Suit yourself.” Michelle preceded him to the truck, tapping her foot while she waited for him to unlock her door.

  The trip back to the manor was tense. Michelle fairly seethed bloodlust, and her plotting was obvious.

  At the house, she was out of the truck and striding up the walk before he caught up to her. To her credit, Michelle waited until they were halfway across the foyer before turning to him with her hand out in silent demand.

  Devon raised the keys, letting them hover over her palm for a moment, then dropping them in.

  “Thank you,” she stated in a crisp voice that nearly crackled with ice.

  James’s voice broke the tension between them. “Nice night?” he asked.

  “I think so,” Devon answered brightly.

  Michelle turned, unknotted the coat, and strode to her father, kissing him on the cheek. She whipped off the coat and placed it in his hands without a word, then sauntered up the stairs, clad to appearances only in her heels and Devon’s shirt.

  Devon choked at the display, envisioning an end to his days even as his errant body responded to the sight.

  James chuckled. “Sleep well, Princess.”

  “I will,” she sang back.

  Devon snapped a look at the Lord Armen, certain his cheer had been for his daughter and his expression would hold a warning for Devon...or worse.

  It didn’t. The lord was still chuckling, folding the coat over his arm. He nodded toward Michelle. “If there was ever a human woman with the spirit of a Warrior, Michelle is it.”

  “I noticed.”

  “I warn you, she’s not going to make your pursuit an easy one.”

  I could have used that warning earlier.

  Oh, who am I kidding? I knew this wouldn’t be easy. He nodded stiffly.

  “You’re prepared for the possibility of failure?”

  His heart ached. “I have to be. Every Warrior does.”

  James nodded grimly. “You drove her home?”

  “I couldn’t risk less.”

  “Thank you for that. I’ll drive you back.”

  “No. I think I need the walk to clear my head.” And work off my arousal. He smiled. “I promise not to kill a beast unless it’s stupid enough to attack me.” He turned away.

  “One more thing, Devon.”

  “Yes?”

  “To put an old man’s mind at ease... She was wearing something under your shirt?”

  “Oh, it was something,” he drawled. That settled it. He needed the walk to cool his blood.

  Chapter Fourteen

  September 22, 2003

  Devon took a calming breath, nearly groaning as she repeated herself.

  “I need more, Devon.”

  “So do I,” he replied. He had to keep that in mind when the urge to sate them both properly called to him.

  “I’ll consider it,” she pleaded.

  He went still, forcing his mind to function. “What?”

  “I’ll consider your suit seriously,” she vowed.

  He ground his teeth, reining in his body.

  “I said—”

  Devon pressed his forehead to hers. “I heard you,” he gasped. “I understand.”

  “I don’t,” she admitted. “I said—”

  “Say it when you’re calm, when your drives aren’t talking for you.”

  “I will.”

  “When you do... If you do, I’ll consider it a promise. You know what this means to me.” Everything.

  “You don’t trust me?” she whispered, seemingly hurt.

  It was on the tip of his tongue to state that he didn’t. After her attempts to lure him with one carefully-constructed outfit and scene after another, her teasing, her hot and cold running emotions...

  And that wasn’t taking into account her dogged determination that his unwillingness to let her take him to climax was unfair. She hadn’t even started with a hand job when he’d agreed. Memories of her taking him into her mouth nearly shook his resolve. He’d come too close to conceding when he’d agreed to let her play the same games with his pleasure that he played with hers.


  Oh, but I do want to trust her. There was no denying it. He wanted Michelle to be serious, and if he intended to pursue her to mating, he’d have to trust that she was serious at some point in time. The sooner, the better. “I trust you.”

  “Then you’ll—”

  “No. Not until you state it when I haven’t already aroused you.”

  “Devon,” she pleaded, her voice cracking as if she might cry.

  “It would be convincing you to willingness. Not willingness to make love but willingness to mate...or to consider mating.”

  “You’re really going to turn me away?” she asked in misery.

  Causing her unease ate at him, and yet he wouldn’t risk even the appearance that he’d convinced her, even to himself. “For this... For this afternoon, yes.”

  Michelle pushed him away, then slid from the bed, pulling on her shirt in silence. He started to rise.

  “Don’t,” she ordered. “It’s light out. I’ll get a cab.”

  “I can drive you—”

  “I don’t want you to!”

  Devon winced. “I’m not refusing you, Michelle.”

  She paused, then straightened her underwear and reached for her jeans. “No. You’re not. You just want me to say it in my right mind.”

  “Yes. I do. I need that. Can’t you see?”

  * * * *

  “Yes, of course, I can.” She pulled her jeans on, not daring to look at him.

  Michelle could see. Unfortunately, she could also feel. She’d tried to tell him she’d consider his suit seriously a half dozen times, that she was considering it. Then she’d remember what that meant to a Warrior and choke on the words.

  The reason was obvious. She cared for him. Maybe, I more than care for him?

  As long as she made no promises to Devon, Michelle felt he could walk away. As long as she didn’t, she wasn’t really hurting him.

  And there was no question that giving him hope would lead to hurting him. Accepting him wasn’t like accepting a Hunter or Maher. Devon was a Kaufmann. If she became his mate, there’d be few visits home to see her family. If any.

  Devon’s range was half a world away. He’d be expected to stay there, and he wouldn’t deal well with her globetrotting home at the drop of a hat.

  Michelle couldn’t deny that a life with Devon held appeal. It wasn’t just that the man made her crazy sexually. He was solicitous, thoughtful, witty...

  “Are you sure I can’t drive you?” he asked.

  Courteous, a little overprotective... “I’d rather you wouldn’t.”

  He grumbled his agreement.

  Michelle slid her feet into her heeled sandals and headed for the door, patting her front pocket though she didn’t need keys to get into the manor. She turned the knob.

  “Will you be coming back?” he asked calmly.

  She glanced back, her mouth going dry at the sight of him. Devon sat in the bed, the sheets pooled low on his hips, one of the most powerful beings that hunted the night seeking a promise from her.

  Releasing him now would be kindest.

  Just the thought of it tore at her. They’d have little enough time together; how could she walk away before she had to?

  To save him more pain.

  Michelle wavered. It was the right thing to do, and she knew it, yet...

  It came down to her wants versus his, her pain versus his. He needed her to say she wanted him when she was in her right mind. It seemed the only way she’d be able to say it would be if she wasn’t.

  She turned away, confused. “I... I need time.” She left without giving him time to answer.

  * * * *

  “Michelle,” Melissa shouted.

  She managed a strained smile, hugging her twin.

  Melissa didn’t pause, exuberant as always. “Mack had four days off, and you know we just had to come. I thought I’d miss you. Tyler said—”

  “Yeah. I know. Big sister is cock-teasing a Warrior.” He’d hinted as much to her with more than a touch of disapproval.

  “He did not!” She threaded her arm through Michelle’s and pulled her along to the stairs. “Come on. You have to see Mickey.”

  That speeded Michelle’s steps. She hadn’t seen her nephew in more than a month. A few minutes with Mickey was just what she needed.

  Michelle smiled widely at the sight of him playing in the bouncy seat set in the center of the smaller nursery, two of the toddler Warriors towering over him. She sat beside him, fingering his strawberry-blond curls.

  “So,” Melissa hedged, “are you planning to give this Warrior a dark-haired Mickey? Or are you really going to play house and leave him?”

  “We’re not playing house...precisely.”

  “You’ve been sleeping with the man for three—”

  “No I haven’t, and it’s only been a little more than two—”

  “So, you’re not sleeping. Such nitpicking.”

  “We’re not...really...um...” Michelle rubbed at the base of her skull, feeling a sick headache coming on.

  Melissa appeared at her side, searching Michelle’s face. “Not what?”

  “Devon won’t...” She glanced at the toddlers...then away. “He won’t...consummate until I tell him I’m seriously considering more.”

  Her sister’s mouth dropped open in shock. “You’ve got a Warrior so tied up he hasn’t had release outside of self-release in almost three—”

  “A little more than two!”

  Melissa glared at her.

  “Two and a half,” she conceded.

  “You’ve had this poor guy hanging on with nothing but self-release for that long? Are you nuts?”

  “Of course not. He’s...getting more than that.”

  “I thought he was serious about this?”

  Michelle fumbled for words, her sister’s twisted logic losing her. “He is...I guess. Okay, I know he is.”

  “He’s taking other women to bed? Doesn’t sound serious to—”

  “No! Of course not. Not with other women. With me...well, once I convinced him to—”

  “I don’t think I follow you.”

  Michelle sighed and tried to order her thoughts. “We play around, but he’s not... That’s not the only thing there is, you know!

  “Oh, I don’t know what I’m doing anymore. What should I do, Melissa? Should I leave him? Should I stay with him? Should I—”

  “Slow down. Do you want to leave him?”

  She swallowed down a sob, shaking her head. Her eyes burned in the tears she blinked back.

  “Then what’s your malfunction?”

  “He’s not a Hunter or a Maher, Melissa. He’s not even a Crossbearer.”

  She motioned for Michelle to continue, seemingly lost.

  “If I do this, we’ll never see each other. I won’t see Mom and Dad or Mack and Mickey. I don’t think I’d mind not seeing Tyler so much,” she joked weakly. “I’ll be on the other side of the world from everyone I love.”

  “Except Devon.”

  “That is the problem,” she admitted. “If I have Devon...”

  “You don’t have everyone else,” Melissa finished for her. “But if you stay here...”

  Her stomach lurched at the thought. She nodded, feeling more than a little ill.

  Her sister sighed. “I never said it was easy, Shell. When Mack and I had to relocate to San Diego—”

  “There’s still weekends at home,” she argued. “No weekends, Melissa. No holidays.”

  “And if they moved us to Maine, there would be only holidays. If they moved us to China, would there be even that much?”

  “And you’d go with him? You’d accept that being with Mack meant not being with us?”

  “Either your love is strong enough or it isn’t. If it’s not, you need to figure that out soon and cut Devon loose while he has a chance.”

  “What if I don’t know?”

  “From what you’ve said, you still haven’t given him a chance. How could you know?”
>
  “But... If I do this, and it’s not enough, what will I be doing to Devon?”

  Melissa smiled. “The fact that you’re afraid of that should tell you something.”

  A lead weight settled in her stomach. “That I’m going to hurt him, and I should let him go now,” she replied woodenly.

  “No. That you care enough about him to cut him loose, even if it hurts you. It just might be strong enough, after all.”

  Michelle nodded, thoughts crowding into her overloaded mind. “I think I have to go,” she whispered.

  “Is something wrong?”

  “Yes. I walked away from him. I shouldn’t have done that.”

  “Say ‘hi’ from me.”

  Michelle pushed to her feet, laying a kiss on Mickey’s head and meandering toward the door. She snatched Tyler’s Trans Am keys off the board and headed for the garage.

  * * * *

  Devon sat crossways on the hotel room love seat, his knees bent to facilitate his height. It seemed he spent more and more of the time Michelle wasn’t with him here, brooding, biding his time, praying to Ani that she’d say what he needed to hear.

  With her drives, he’d thought the game would be nearly over by now. Her stark interest in him coupled with her passionate nature had him convinced that he was right. Now it seemed he was wrong. Now...she might never come back.

  I shouldn’t have refused her. She said it, impassioned or not. I should have trusted her.

  He considered his options. How long should he wait? How long should he give her before actively seeking to break printing?

  Devon fought back the urge to scream. He couldn’t choose to do it. Until Michelle spoke the words, until she refused him, he couldn’t take that road...

  Unless I pose a danger to her. If it came to that, he’d do whatever he had to. He would never hurt Michelle. It wouldn’t come to that.

  A knock at the door brought him back to the here and now. Devon ambled to it, his heart pounding, hoping it wasn’t James Lord Armen with a cabin key in his hand and news that Michelle was calling it off.

  He opened it, gaping at the sight of Michelle. Words deserted him.

  “Am I welcome?” she asked, seemingly disconcerted.