Cassian Court
“I’d offer a penny for those thoughts, but it sounds like they’re worth a dollar.”
The commentary from a few feet back, roughened by recent sleep, is a surprise because it is not a surprise. The air I breathe in for the sigh is the same air that shifts, making room for his presence. Just like it did in the palais back on Arcadia…and has ever since.
Only all those times, I was not trying to inhale around a vice in my chest.
I do not turn, not wanting Cassian to see my grimace. Idiot. Why should he not see it…and know the conflict weighing on me? Prim made no secret of hers.
“I…could not sleep. Time difference, I suppose.” Or the hundred ways I keep wondering why Prim’s input is such a priority to you.
“Is that all? Just the jet lag?” He stretches on the floor next to me, leaning on an elbow as opposed to my stomach-down recline. The reading chaise behind us is comfortable enough, but being closer to the city’s energy is a better fit for my spirit tonight. He sees that too. I discern it in the forests of his eyes.
Does he see the rest of my thoughts?
His query has not made that clear. I worry that he does…and that he does not.
“You must be just as thrown out of your kilt as me,” I finally offer—to be met by a chuckle that should not be as sexy as it is.
“Off kilter?” he offers. “Though I’m not opposed to kilts or taking them off, if that’s the request.” He sobers a little while tugging at his hair, which tumbles lushly into his eyes. “Scottish is somewhere in my mutt mix, which is why my hair turns a little red in the sun…or so Mom tells me.”
“Your Maimanne?” This new revelation tempers my jealousy about Prim—for the moment. “Are you two close?”
A smile remains on his face but changes. Softens. “Yeah. You could say that.”
“Why?” I return. “Why…could I say that?”
His smile evaporates. “We’ve been through a lot together. A lot.” His shoulders stiffen. “Perhaps it’s best we leave it there.”
“Of course.” I swivel my head, resting it atop my hands, again attempting to put aside the petty hurt in my heart. “You have others to confide in, after all.”
So much for attempting—or even kidding myself that I did. But the dig is vague. He has as much right to toss it aside as I did to make it. If he does, then at least I know exactly where I stand. If he does not—
He definitely does not.
Bracing a hand around the back of my neck, he jerks my stare back up to him. The gesture is an unsettling mix of command and calm—reminding me all too clearly of how he took over things in my bedroom, back on Arcadia. Was that just two nights ago? Only a heartbeat has passed since then, right?
No.
A forever has passed.
“You heard,” he grates. “Didn’t you? Prim and me. In the pantry.” He shakes his head. Gets down a leaden swallow. “Never mind. I know you did. I felt you there. Standing at the sink.”
Forget about unsettled. I am suddenly frightened—gripped by spectral shivers, such as the ones I have known while working late in the palais and glimpsing the building’s famous ghosts in my periphery. Only now, the otherworld does not hide in the shadows. It is here, in the air between us…in the dazzle of emeralds in Cassian’s eyes, in the promise of fire in his touch…in the confirmation that he knows me, senses me, feels me just as I do him.
In the magic of us.
“Prim is a good friend, Ella. Nothing more.”
But you have history with her. A lot of it.
I cannot bring myself to utter it. “She has the right to feel…what she feels.”
He grunts. Retorts through his teeth, “The fuck she does.”
“She cares about you. It is a glaring truth, Cassian, from the first second she gazes upon you.” I curl a hand against his cheek, as if I can actually soothe his ire. “I do not blame her.”
He presses his hand over mine. Runs it down to my elbow with nearly punishing pressure. “I don’t want to talk about her right now.”
“But…”
“But what?”
I push to a sitting position. Pull my arm down—as far as he will let me. His hold on my elbow remains firm and determined. “Am I just a ‘rescue project’ to you, Cassian? The Eliza Doolittle you yanked from the slums, and—”
He shoves to his feet. I almost expect him to punch one of the walls or windows but he becomes scarier, not moving, his posture impossibly erect. “Is that what you believe?” Every word is so low, they are almost drowned by a pair of emergency sirens down on the street, their wails growing.
“I…I do not want to.”
I let my head fall, but that brings even more bizarre sensations. Sitting here, my gaze filled with his bare feet, I feel…intimate with him. Stripped for him.
Connecting…
I lean forward. Just enough to touch his knee with my forehead. He’s only wearing white cotton pants, and I realize he must have yanked them out of his luggage. They smell the way he did on Arcadia: his cedar and soap blended with ocean wind and oranges…
And there’s something else now. A smell unique to New York. Musky. Masculine. Really erotic.
Before I can breathe it in again, he is next to me. Next to me, plummeted back to the floor. Both his hands dig into my hair, forcing my gaze up into his.
Connecting…
“Don’t you see?” he rasps into the inches between our lips. “Can’t you see?” And then his mouth is on me, molding me…needing me. Then rasping, “Mishella. My favori. My perfect armeau. I brought you here because I’m a selfish bastard who hasn’t had anyone like you in my world in…” He stops, shaking his head, gaze glittering once more, a thousand shades of confusion. “In a very long time.
“Mishella Santelle…it is you who have rescued me.”
Make a wish…
Engineering genius. Billionaire icon. Consultant to kings. Golden-haired god. Cassian Court is a legend before he even steps foot on the remote island of Arcadia—but from the moment he locks eyes with Mishella Santelle, she can see only the man beneath the power, the presence, and the muscles…the bruised soul for whom hers has been destined…
But destiny isn’t a luxury for a woman of the Arcadian Court.
Close your eyes…
When six months of her life are bargained to Cassian in a multimillion dollar contract, Mishella must learn the rules of a more ruthless kingdom: New York City. In this glamorous jungle, paths are harder to discern, enemies are more cleverly camouflaged…and passions are impossible to ignore, especially when awakened by the man who can read her every desire with a glance, control her every arousal with a touch…
And leap…
Helpless against how her body and soul react to this man, Mishella dreads her heart is soon to follow—for the ghosts from Cassian’s past will never free him to return her love. In six months, she’ll simply be a memory to him…the naughty little toy he played with for a while…
Unless she can prove the impossible.
That their love is worth fighting for.
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i love angel paynes books , their so good!!
ReplyDeleteOh, I would just love to meet Cas!!! Yummy! These books are sooooooooo good - waiting patiently (NOT) for book 3!
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