Immortally Theirs [Legends & Myths] (Siren Publishing Ménage Amour) Page 5

  Stefan didn’t consider that to be an acceptable outcome. He and Christian had already argued over another option available to them. But they both knew the type of future, or lack of one, that Claire would have if they used it. If Atticus took her soul, it would be in the hands of his master for just a while, until the time of Claire’s judgment when her eternal fate would be determined. But if Stefan and Christian took her mortality, it would be forever.

  “So where to now?” Claire smiled up at Stefan.

  It warmed Stefan’s heart to see her happy. In fact, he had been feeling more than a warm heart over the last couple of days. He’d found himself wanting to spend more time with her. More time than she had.

  “Where would you like to go?”

  It was obvious to Stefan that Claire’s true nature was not one of cowering in a corner. It seemed to him as though she was rediscovering herself since her arrival in St. Augustine. He wondered why so many mortals didn’t learn how to live until it was too late. Stefan reminded himself that Claire had not chosen to lock herself away and become a shadow of her true self. She had been forced into a cage, beaten and battered into submission. But she was a fighter and she seemed determined to live life to the fullest, now that she had escaped her cage. Stefan decided he would do whatever he could to make sure she enjoyed the time she had left.

  “How about that little winery I read about?” Claire beamed up at him, her eyebrows raised in anticipation. How could Stefan even attempt to resist when she looked at him as though there was no one else in the world she would rather spend the afternoon with?

  “Out for an afternoon stroll?” Stefan looked up at the unwelcome intrusion. Atticus leaned against the front window of the coffee shop they had just exited.

  Stefan scowled. “Don’t you have something else you could be doing?”

  Atticus chuckled. “Nope.” He focused his hungry eyes on Claire. “I’m right where I need to be.”

  Stefan took Claire’s hand in his and pulled her behind him. He didn’t like the look Atticus directed at her. Claire stood mere inches behind him and she gripped his upper arm as she peeked around him. The closeness of her body and the feel of her hand on his arm sent an unexpected shudder though Stefan.

  Atticus narrowed his eyes and stared at Stefan, his gaze flicking down to Claire’s hand. He shook his head and let out a long sigh. “You know better than to involve yourself, Stefan. You can’t change fate any more than I can.”

  Stefan pressed his lips together, not wanting to say anything that might alarm Claire. But he had some things he wished he could say to Atticus. None of which would be appropriate in front of a lady.

  Atticus continued to stare at him. Then his lips turned up in a half smile. Stefan almost thought there might have been a hint of sadness there. “Enjoy your time, Stefan.”

  Atticus pushed off from the window and strolled away. Claire’s hand dropped from Stefan’s arm and the loss of contact felt as though a cold wind blew across his body.

  “Who is he?” Claire looked up at Stefan and he could see the fear in her eyes. Her instincts were good. She knew a predator when she saw one.

  “No one you need to concern yourself with. He’s just very good at making a pest of himself.” Stefan offered his arm to her and she looped hers through it without hesitation. Her touch sent warmth back through him again. Stefan recognized all too well that he was beginning to crave Claire’s touch. He knew he should put distance between them, but his body refused to listen to his better judgment.

  They boarded one of the tourist trolleys that crisscrossed their way through the Historic District, picking up passengers and dropping them off at strategic locations. Christian had given them passes so they could travel from place to place without their own vehicle and so that Claire wouldn’t have to walk long distances. Though they hadn’t heard one complaint from her, they could tell her injured leg bothered her most of the time.

  As the trolley wove through the narrow streets, the driver used a microphone and pointed out some of the historic sites and more notable events that had happened in the city’s long history. Stefan whispered additional details into Claire’s ear, since he knew some of these stories much better than the driver did, having lived through some of them. Claire seemed to hang on his every word and her eyes lit up whenever something new caught her attention.

  Her enthusiasm was contagious and he knew he was letting himself get caught up in it. He was already becoming too fond of her, far more than he should, but he couldn’t stop himself from spending time with her. How could he spend the last two centuries keeping his emotional distance from every mortal he met, just to become attached to one being stalked by death?

  The trolley dropped them off at the winery and they managed to join the last tour of the day. They climbed the stairs to the second floor and Stefan couldn’t help but notice the way Claire’s white shorts accentuated her hips as she climbed in front of him. He chided himself, knowing he should smack himself in the head for his wayward thoughts. He so did not need to be looking at her that way. He wasn’t supposed to be getting involved with her, he was just supposed to be keeping an eye on her and making sure she enjoyed herself. But he already knew he was fighting a lost cause.

  Their tour guide ushered the large group into a small room with long wooden benches so they could watch a short film about the history of the winery. Stefan settled next to Claire on the last bench in the very back of the overcrowded room, scooting close to her to allow space for other people to sit down.

  As the lights dimmed and the film started, Stefan’s body went on high alert. Claire’s body pressed up against his side. Her warmth against his arm and leg stirred reactions in his body he hadn’t felt in a long time. He’d spent years, decades, hell, a couple of centuries, trying to find happiness and excitement in the arms of a veritable parade of women. But sex had become boring to him, nothing more than a momentary release and a few hours of distraction.

  This felt different. Very different. He squirmed in his seat, but the action just made it worse. His jeans felt too tight as his hard cock strained against the unforgiving material. His leg slid along Claire’s bare thigh and his arm rubbed against hers. Her breath hitched in her throat and Stefan felt a slight tremble course through her body. He fought a sudden urge to slide his hand along her leg. Glancing over at her, he noticed Claire’s knuckles had turned white from her hands being clasped together so tight in her lap. He grinned. So maybe he wasn’t the only one feeling a little hot and bothered.

  The film ended without Stefan being able to recall a single thing about it. Every sense he possessed focused on Claire as the group moved into the tasting room. Old wooden barrels stood floor to ceiling in racks around the room. Low lighting gave off an air of intimate darkness in the room. He and Claire stood shoulder to shoulder in the tight space while their guide poured glasses of wine for them. The other people in the room might as well have not even been there. All Stefan could think about was the way Claire kept casting glances at him. Her gaze flicked from his eyes, down to his lips, and then back again.

  Stefan liked wine. He really did. But he couldn’t taste anything as he went through the motions of sampling each variety. By the time they reached the sherry and port, Claire’s cheeks had taken on a rosy glow and he could feel heat rolling off of her body. He also sensed it wasn’t just the alcohol causing the reaction. She had consumed more wine than this over dinner with Christian and him the night before and she hadn’t gotten flirtatious then. Now, however, her breathing quickened and her sideways glances and grins at him became more and more enticing, her cheeks turning more crimson with each furtive look. The alcohol had no effect on Stefan, either, but Claire’s responses to the proximity of their bodies sure as hell did. His cock jerked as Stefan thought of closing the distance between them and pressing himself against her.

  They sampled the last wine and then the group filed out of the room, the tour guide directing them to the gift shop where they could purcha
se the wines they had just enjoyed. Stefan and Claire formed the end of the line. As the other members of the group exited the room, Claire shot a heated look over her shoulder at Stefan.

  It was too much. Stefan grabbed her hand and pulled her back into the room, backing her up against the old wooden barrels lining the walls. Claire looked up at him with wide eyes, her chest heaving against his. Her gaze wandered down his face and settled on his mouth. The tip of her tongue shot out and she licked her lips.

  That was more than Stefan could bear. Throwing caution and all sense of reason aside, he lowered his face to Claire’s. He pressed his lips to hers, his touch soft at first, since he didn’t want to spook her by being too aggressive. He needn’t have worried. She splayed both hands across his chest and leaned into him, kissing him back with enthusiasm. Stefan surrendered to his desire. With one long stroke, he ran his tongue along her lips. She parted them and Stefan almost cheered at her willingness to allow him entrance. His tongue plunged into her mouth and he groaned at the honey-and-wine flavor he found there. He slid his tongue along hers and explored the silkiness of her mouth. Her tongue dueled with his, taking as much from him as he took from her. Claire’s hands wrapped around his shoulders and she pulled him toward her, pressing herself against him. His cock was so hard it was painful.

  Stefan couldn’t think straight. He knew he shouldn’t be letting this happen. He shouldn’t be getting involved with a woman destined to die in a few short days. But the feel of Claire’s body against him and the sweet, intoxicating taste of her drove all logic from his mind. She felt so good. She tasted even better. He liked making her smile and yearned to see the new spark in her eyes shine brighter. He wanted to make her body sing for him. He ground his hips into her and they both gasped as his cock pressed against her pussy, the heat between them almost unbearable in spite of the clothing separating them.

  A throat being cleared broke through Stefan’s clouded thoughts and he forced himself to rip his lips away from Claire’s. A man wearing a shirt emblazoned with the winery logo stood in the room with raised eyebrows and an amused grin.

  Stefan struggled to control his breathing and he shrugged. “Sorry.”

  The man laughed and shook his head. “No problem. We get that all the time.”

  Stefan gripped Claire’s hand and led her out of the room. Her flushed cheeks and shallow breathing told him she had been just as swept away by their kiss as he had been. She remained silent, but she entwined her fingers with his as they descended the stairs.

  Stefan’s mind reeled with what had just happened and with what he was feeling. What the hell was he thinking? And what the hell was Christian going to say when Stefan told him he thought he might be falling for Claire?

  Chapter Nine

  “How can you come back here after two hundred and fifty years and tell me what we should and shouldn’t do?” Christian fumed at his brother, all the pent up rage and feelings of Stefan’s past betrayal pouring out of him at once. “Were you the one who came back to claim our property after the British left Florida? Was it you who made sure the casa was kept up for all these years? Were you the one who had to leave every decade or so until everyone here forgot what you looked like?” He stalked across the room to within a few inches of his brother and pointed his finger in his face. “Were you the one who chiseled the names of our family into their headstones over and over and over again to make sure they weren’t forgotten?” He stared at his silent brother and then turned and stalked toward the door. He turned back to Stefan one last time. “It’s not our place to change her. We have no right to take her mortality. Leave it be.”

  Christian opened the door and stormed out, slamming it behind him and leaving his brother behind in the office. He stalked across the casa and fumed that Stefan could have been so reckless. His brother knew better than to involve himself on a personal level with a mortal. And to involve himself with one who was destined to die in a matter of days couldn’t be a wise choice.

  Christian had been trying hard to get word to a light reaper, hoping one could arrive before Claire met her approaching fate. He thought he might have had some success through Marius, one of his many non-human acquaintances. Marius happened to be a fallen angel who still sought to regain favor and rejoin his angelic brothers, so he was often willing to perform a good deed. Christian found that knowing such beings came with some benefits, though not without perils. Angering the wrong beings could be problematic, even for an immortal.

  Though immortality had provided Christian and Stefan with abilities not shared with other humans, knowing which beings to leave unprovoked made life much more comfortable. He and his brother couldn’t be killed, but certain beings could still make their lives miserable if they so desired. Christian had made the mistake of angering a disgruntled ghost years ago, only to have the disembodied spirit chase away all of his guests at the bed-and-breakfast. They’d managed to call a truce, but it had provided Christian with a lesson in supernatural diplomacy.

  Christian stalked down the hall, fearing Stefan’s involvement with Claire would end in disaster. What if Stefan, caught up in his growing feelings for Claire, provided her with the one thing that would ensure she would never die? Christian feared she would end up hating Stefan forever for cursing her to a future with no end.

  Stefan had always been impulsive, though, so why should Christian have expected that to change? His brother’s penchant for charging into dangerous situations was what had landed both of them in this eternal holding pattern in the first place. If Stefan hadn’t been so determined to rush into battle that night long ago, things might have been so different. And then afterwards, when they realized what their grandmother’s actions had done, Stefan’s impulsiveness hadn’t dimmed. He’d turned his rage and bitterness for having his mortality stolen on the English troops who had taken their lives and burned the city of St. Augustine to the ground. Stefan had hunted many of them down and sent them to their own eternal destinations.

  Years later, when the newly-formed British Empire took control of Florida from Spain and the Spanish residents of St. Augustine had been exiled to Cuba, the rift between the brothers was sealed. Stefan had been furious at Christian for boarding one of the Spanish ships and sailing with the other evacuees to Cuba, rather than joining him to take vengeance on the ones responsible for the loss of their home.

  Christian had faced over twenty years of exile in Cuba, alone and mourning the loss of not only his home, but also his brother’s companionship. Throughout those miserable years, he had held on to the hope that his brother would see the futility in his actions and return to him. But twenty-three long years after their exile, when the British turned Florida back over to Spain and St. Augustine’s refugees were allowed to reclaim their former homes, Stefan had stayed away.

  Christian was glad beyond words that Stefan finally seemed to have put his bloodlust behind him and come to terms with his immortality. He knew the rift between them was not healed, but he hoped, with time, they would regain the relationship they once shared. But bringing another human into the situation was out of the question.

  Stefan had accused Christian of being heartless toward Claire. But Christian knew his heart all too well and it scared the hell out of him. If he allowed Claire to penetrate the wall he had built around his emotions, only to have her hate him for eternity, he feared he would never recover. That prospect darkened Christian’s mood as he rounded the corner. Maybe it hadn’t been such a good idea to offer Claire the opportunity to stay here. Maybe he should have listened to Atticus that first night in the bar and walked away. But then he looked up and all thoughts fled as he saw the scene at the end of his bedroom corridor.

  Claire stood on a ladder, reaching with her paintbrush to apply color to the mural she had been working on for the last couple of days. Or nights, Christian corrected himself. He had noticed Claire wasn’t sleeping well and he had heard her moving around the casa at night, working on her paintings. She was very quiet when she
worked, so he hadn’t feared she would wake the other guests. Even Christian wouldn’t have heard her nocturnal movements if it hadn’t been for his enhanced hearing and the fact that he hadn’t felt the desire to sleep while she was awake.

  He and Stefan had joined her out in the corridor during those nights, watching her work. The simple activity, often without any conversation between them, was the most camaraderie Christian had felt in centuries. He liked it. Much more than he knew he should.

  The painting Claire was creating was beautiful. She had chosen this space, the grand arch surrounding the massive double wooden doors leading into his bedroom, to paint a mural. On each side of the doors, she had already painted a depiction of the corner of the casa’s courtyard where the fountain stood. He found it interesting that she had chosen that image to paint in this space. Her attention to detail was impressive and the water she painted almost seemed to dance as the light hit it. The old Poinciana tree, the one that stood next to the fountain downstairs, graced the walls and ceiling. Its branches spread out gracefully and its red flowers provided the alcove with rich, vibrant color.

  In spite of the beauty on the walls, it was Claire who pulled at his attention, even as he fought the impulse. She stood with her arm stretched high above her, accentuating the lean lines of her body. Her dark-blue denim shorts, complete with splotches of paint where she had wiped her hands, hugged her hips and highlighted her long legs. Christian’s gaze continued its slow journey down her legs and he grinned as he noticed her bare feet. She seemed to enjoy walking around without shoes on much of the time. His gaze meandered back up her body, even as he berated himself for allowing his libido to get the upper hand.