Rion
“MEDITATION WORKS BETTER IN SILENCE,” MARISA SAID CALMLY.
“Seems to me your meditation isn’t working.” Rion’s tone oozed charm. “There are better ways to relax.”
“Like?” Marisa couldn’t prevent a tiny smile from raising the corners of her lips.
His dark gaze flicked to her mouth, tracked it with hot male interest. He’d taken her smile for an opening. Of course, he would. She doubted anyone had ever told Mr. Irresistible no. Approaching with a long-legged saunter that made her eyes narrow with speculation, he sat on the mat behind her.
She should pull away until she knew what he was up to. But she couldn’t. Not when he looked so damn good.
He went still behind her, drawing out a moment of silence that thrummed with tension. Her sizzling awareness of him seemed to fill the space between them with a rush of heat…
“Kearney is a master storyteller.”
—VIRGINIA HENLEY,
New York Times bestselling author
PRAISE FOR SUSAN KEARNEY
“[Kearney] combines sexy romance with spaceships, laser guns, psychic powers, and time travel.”
—Tampa Tribune
“Susan Kearney takes you on a wild ride, keeping you guessing until the very end.”
—New York Times bestselling author KAREN ROSE on Kiss Me Deadly
“Out-of-this-world love scenes, pulse-pounding action, and characters who come right off the page.”
—USA Today bestselling author SUZANNE FORSTER on The Dare
“Looking for something different? A futuristic romance… The Challenge gave me a new perspective… love and sex in the future!”
—New York Times bestselling author CARLY PHILLIPS
ALSO BY SUSAN KEARNEY
Lucan
Copyright
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is coincidental.
Copyright © 2009 by H.E. Inc.
Excerpt from Lucan copyright © 2009 by H.E. Inc.
Excerpt from Jordan copyright © 2009 by H.E. Inc.
All rights reserved. Except as permitted under the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, no part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system, without the prior written permission of the publisher.
Forever
Hachette Book Group
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Forever is an imprint of Grand Central Publishing. The Forever name and logo is a trademark of Hachette Book Group, Inc.
First eBook Edition: December 2009
ISBN: 978-0-446-55881-5
Contents
Copyright
Acknowledgments
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
A Preview of Lucan
A Preview of Jordan
The Dish
To my readers: You all are the ones who make my career possible. Thank you for your support. Thank you for telling your friends about my books. Thank you for joining me on this journey.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
First I have to thank Amy Pierpont for her terrific edits. And Alex Logan for her assistance during all facets of publication. I’d also like to thank Claire Brown and Christine Foltzer for yet another gorgeous cover, Anna Maria Piluso for the book’s production, and of course Bob Levine and all his hardworking colleagues in sales.
And thanks to Holly Root for placing me at a wonderful publishing house.
She who lives without taking risks dies without love.
—ENGLISH PROVERB
1
London, the near future
You call that relaxing?” A deep male voice reverberated through the exercise room, and Marisa Roarke opened her eyes. “Meditation is so overrated.”
Rion Jaqard stalked with predatory zeal across the Trafalgar Hotel’s workout room, flung a towel onto a chair, and whipped off his shirt before sliding onto the weight bench.
During the few times Marisa had run into Rion at her brother Lucan’s apartment, she’d noticed Rion was built. But she hadn’t realized he was so solid. Talk about walking testosterone. She’d bet even his sweat had muscles.
Rion always emitted a sexy aura. But tonight he seemed to have turned his charms up a notch. Almost as if his alluring appeal was a veneer. And beneath was an undercurrent of banked urgency. Intensity. She couldn’t pinpoint exactly what was different about him but her tired mind was reluctant to question, preferring simply to appreciate his…
She had to stop looking.
Even if he was totally irresistible, she should have been immune. He may have been a first-rate flirt with other women, but he’d always treated her like a pesky kid sister. And who could blame him? A nasty divorce many years ago had left her with the expectation that most relationships were built on a mountain of lies.
Trying to ignore the size of Rion’s very broad, very muscular chest, she frowned. “These days I find relaxing pretty much like trying to fly with only one wing.”
Conversation over. She shut her eyes again. But the image of his ripped chest and totally toned, totally etched abs remained.
Marisa imagined those powerful arms around her. Strong, yet gentle. Warm and tight with a current of need. She imagined his eyes filled with desire… for her.
Stop it.
Stop imagining. She didn’t imagine.
Not anymore.
She halted her wandering thoughts with hard facts.
Rion was from the planet Honor. The first chance he got to leave Earth, he’d be gone. But if all Honorians were built like him, Earth’s women would be rioting for interplanetary travel visas. Of course, no such documents existed. Not since the United Nations had shut down travel from Earth to the rest of the galaxy.
For the moment Rion was trapped on Earth. She sneaked another glance. All that sculpted maleness was dazzling. Seductive. A woman could have a night to remember with a body like his. She suppressed a sigh. Too bad she wasn’t that kind of woman. Since her failed marriage she’d become even more careful. Maybe too careful.
If he’d ever, even just once, shone any of his alpha sex-machine machoness in her direction, she might have succumbed to temptation and flirted. But he wasn’t interested. He’d never been interested.
Stop drooling. Just look somewhere else. Anywhere else.
Marisa had thought herself past the age of ogling men who showed no sign of ogling back. She figured her reaction was due to work-related stress from her new career.
Just six months ago, Marisa had been a successful correspondent at the St. Petersburg Times in Florida. She’d covered everything from war in the Mideast to the story about her brother Luca
n and his wife, Cael, who had brought back a cure from the planet Pendragon for Earth’s fertility problems, which had been Marisa’s last assignment.
While the cure had saved humanity from extinction, it had side effects, a genetic shift that required some people to periodically morph into dragons. But humans were not accustomed to their new dragonshaping abilities, which required controlling their more primitive side. So after discovering her own telepathic powers could be used to calm the dragons’ highly sexed and predatory tendencies, Marisa had switched careers.
A fifteen-hour shift, exhaustion, and her not-so-successful attempt to erase the emotional aftereffects of dealing with her oversexed dragonshaping clients had clearly upset her equilibrium.
She closed her eyes. Out. Out. Out. Rounding up the stray emotions, she corralled them into a tiny corner of her mind, then squashed down hard.
But she still couldn’t block out the man across the room. The weights clinked as Rion raised and lowered them, and Marisa peeked again through her lowered lashes. The guy was gorgeous.
He slanted a glance in her direction. The gleaming interest in his eyes startled her. “Hard day?”
“Uh-huh.” She looked away. The one-on-one telepathy she’d originally signed up for wouldn’t have made her this susceptible to Rion’s sexuality. But after Marisa had begun to work with the dragonshapers, she’d discovered she could simultaneously communicate with an entire group of dragons. Her unique ability to help many dragons at once made her a valuable asset to the Vesta Corporation. Unfortunately, the side effects subjected her to all of the dragonshapers’ angers, fears, jealousies, and passions at once.
Don’t think about work.
Left with residual sexual tension, all her cells hummed with need.
Let it go.
Unclenching her teeth, she forced her lips to part, breathed deeply through her nose, and told the muscles in her aching neck to loosen. Or at least to stop throbbing so she could go up to her hotel room and sleep.
“Maybe lifting would relax you.”
She arched an eyebrow. Something had to be wrong with her hearing because his voice sounded coaxing.
“If you need help, I could spot you,” he continued.
“No, thanks.” Surprised by his persistence, she spoke without looking at him.
Why couldn’t he just leave her alone? Surely by now even his oversized biceps had to be burning, his lungs aching for oxygen. But he didn’t sound out of breath.
“Let me know if you change your mind.” His tone held a hint of disappointment.
Disappointment?
No way.
Her tired mind had to be misinterpreting his signals. As much as she’d have liked to believe he was interested in her, she knew better. So she had to accept that the dragons’ residual passions were affecting her judgment.
“Meditation works better in silence,” she said calmly, pleased that her voice didn’t give away how aware she was of the way his buttocks tightened and relaxed in a fascinating rhythm that made her mouth go dry.
“Seems to me your meditation isn’t working.”
He was right. She couldn’t stop staring at him. A light gleam of sweat glistened on his skin, emphasizing his muscles as he set down the weights.
He straightened and raked her with a gaze that settled on the vein throbbing in her neck. “Your pulse rate must be over one thirty,” he said.
Hell. Any woman within ten meters of him would have an elevated pulse. “Are you deliberately trying to annoy me, or do you come by it naturally?”
She expected him to take off, but he grabbed his towel, slung it over his shoulders, and wiped the sweat from his brow. And gave her a look brazen enough to heat every flat in London—for the entire winter.
Whoa. She might be tired. But not that tired. No way could she misread his male interest. Just what was going on here? He’d never looked at her like this before. What was he up to?
His tone oozed charm. “There are better ways to relax.”
“Like?” Marisa couldn’t prevent a tiny smile raising the corners of her lips.
His dark gaze flicked to her mouth, tracked it with hot male interest. He’d taken her smile for an opening. Of course, he would. She doubted anyone had ever told Mr. Irresistible no. Approaching with a long-legged saunter that made her eyes narrow with speculation, he sat on the mat behind her and placed his palms firmly on her shoulders.
She should pull away until she knew what he was up to. But she couldn’t. Not when he looked so damn good.
He went still behind her, drawing out a moment of silence that thrummed with tension. Her sizzling awareness of him seemed to fill the space between them with a rush of heat.
At the first touch of his hands on her shoulders, she had to bite back a gasp of pleasure. Gently, ever so slowly, he kneaded her neck and caressed her shoulders with a sensual thoroughness that melted away the tension. Circling in on the tight spots with soothing caresses, he feathered his fingertips over her sore muscles.
Her pulse leaped. She swallowed hard.
Rion eased the heels of his palms into her tight shoulders with lingering, luscious strokes. After several mesmerizing minutes, he leaned forward and his breath fanned her ear. “You carry tension in the neck.”
“I do?” She sighed and leaned into his hands, grateful for the relief.
He kneaded gently, gradually going deeper, until her muscles melted, until she felt as warm and pliable as taffy. His fingers were so clever, but as he released one kind of tension, a sensuous anticipation began to build.
“Am I too hard for you?” he asked, almost sounding innocent.
She jerked upright and made a choking sound. He was sitting behind her, but she could see his chiseled face reflected in the mirrors and caught a reckless I-shouldn’t-be-messing-with-my-best-friend’s-sister-but-I’m-going-to-do-it-anyway gleam in his eyes. “My hands. Am I rubbing too hard?”
“You feel great. And you damn well know it.” She lifted an eyebrow and shot back her best I-know-what-you’re-up-to look.
But she really had no idea what his intentions were. He might have been a first-class flirt with other women, but with her, he’d merely been friendly.
“I’m glad you like my touch,” he murmured.
At his flirting, her heart fluttered, but she tamped down her excitement and cast him a curious glance. “From what I hear, you’ve had lots of practice.”
Rion worked on a knot next to her spine, applying tension until the tightness ebbed. “You have an Earth saying, ‘Practice makes perfect.’ But I’m not certain if a massage can ever be perfect. After all, there are so many variations of where to touch… how to touch… when to touch…”
No one could accidentally be that suggestive—not even a man from another planet. And while she’d love to find out exactly where and how he would touch her next, all her caution signals flared.
Leaning forward, he whispered into her ear, “Did you know you have a very sexy neck?” His gray eyes met hers in the mirror, and she could have sworn they smoldered. When he brushed a wispy tendril from her nape, heat shimmied down her spine.
Damn, he was smooth. Real smooth. Although she’d already been burned by her ex-husband, she was long over the hurt. Yet when it came to men, she remained cautious, unable to trust her own judgment.
Ignoring the desire surging through her veins, she scooted from under Rion’s hands and stood. “Thanks. It’s been a long day. I need to hit the sack.”
“Good night, Marisa.” He stood, too, and grabbed his shirt. As she left the workout room, he called out to her. “Sweet dreams.”
Sweet was out of the question. Sizzling hot was more like it.
He will speak at times of things yet to happen… for he has the gift of sight.
—MERLIN
2
As always, Rion’s vision flashed before his eyes without warning.
“You dare to defy me?” The Unari raised his whip.
His victim, a man on
his knees, bowed his head.
The Unari’s lash swished, cutting the air and biting into a back already scarred from too many whippings, leaving yet another bloody welt.
At the vicious blow, the victim clenched his jaw but didn’t utter a sound. Eyes dulled by pain, head down, his emaciated body trembled.
“Get up.” The blasé tone of the Unari suggested he’d beaten many men.
And then the vision widened in scope, like a camera backing up and allowing a wide-angle view. Bright orange Cuttees flapped their wings and soared over the hellish Honorian desert. And Rion gasped in horror. Beyond the two men were hundreds, maybe thousands more starving Honorians, laboring to build a giant wall under the Unari lash.
“Get up, slug. There’s work to do.” The Unari landed a brutal kick on the man’s hip.
Deep in a trance, Rion flinched. Willed the man to get up.
The lash descended again, this time shredding skin across the man’s vulnerable stomach. With a primal howl, he pulled his knees into his chest.
As the man writhed in pain, Rion glimpsed a distinctive three-quarter crescent-shaped burn mark on his arm.
Sweet Goddess. Rion knew him. Avril had once been a giant, a palace guard.
“Back on your feet. Get up, slave.”
“Slave?” Rion snapped out of his trance, head reeling. It took him a few moments to realize he’d had a flash, a gruesome vision of the future.
Currently a guest on planet Earth in the luxurious Trafalgar Hotel, where the Vesta Corporation had housed him for the last six months, Rion paced, clenching and unclenching his fists.
Ever since his arrival on Earth, Rion had been employing his diplomatic skills to convince the United Nations to join the Honorians’ fight against the Unari. So far he didn’t have the votes of enough delegates to swing a commitment from Earth. Hell, they wouldn’t even agree to open the portal to send him back home, never mind pay for an army to fight the Unari.