begun to associate with him.
He turned around and presented her with his left arm. “Does it match this?”
Anne’s eyes widened a fraction. There, twining around his bulging bicep were two tattooed snakes, joined head to head. Where their bodies intersected, they formed the same Templar cross that the pair on her ankle created. Both deep ebony. Both with eyes of gold.
Just like hers.
Oh shit.
She recovered enough to pretend she inspected the design with an eye for details. No way in hell was she about to tell this man who didn’t think twice about throwing her over his shoulder to get what he wanted, that she belonged to him. Beyond all the other very logical reasons she couldn’t stay, the one repeated vision she’d had of him showed him dead. She would not be party to that—either active participant or passive observer. And she certainly wouldn’t give Merrick any more reasons to hawk over her or confine her in someplace even smaller with fewer modern comforts.
“No,” she murmured. In a stronger voice she added, “Nice art, but I’ve never seen it before.”
CHAPTER 7
A piece of Merrick’s soul crumpled and died with Anne’s rejection. He turned away, unable to look at her until he was certain the unexpected ache would not present itself in his expression. He had known better. They were too incompatible. Too ill-suited to possess a preordained fate. And yet, some traitorous portion of his spirit had dared to hope mayhap she would take this darkness from him and allow him to live.
He tugged his shirt over his head and took a deep, fortifying breath. So she was not meant for him—all the more reason to find her mate and rid himself of her quickly. Each passing day her intended took a step closer to damnation, and Merrick would not carry the burden of a brother’s fall because, in some secret forbidden place in his heart, he enjoyed the saucy maid.
“I shall return.” He reached for his sword and buckled it around his waist.
“Where are you going?”
“To retrieve my men. Mikhail has ordered them away. Before they go, we must see if you belong to one of them.” Her harassed sigh as he reached for the door gave him pause. “Something distresses you?”
She worried her fingers through her long hair. “I don’t want to sit in this room any longer. Please, take me with you.”
The renegade part of him he had not fully beaten into submission took pity on her. His frown faded, and he gave her a slow nod. “If we do not find your intended in my men, we shall talk, and I shall take you to the dining hall. Until you understand the nature of the temple, however, you must remain here.”
“Merrick, take me with you. Please. I can’t take another minute more in this room.”
The pleading quality behind her bright blue eyes stabbed into him like a red-hot poker. He gave little thought to his chambers; they serviced his need for sleep, naught else. He had never considered how they might appear to someone else—guests were forbidden, and the men shared identical small enclosures. As he glanced around his sleeping quarters, he understood how she would find them bland and boring. It could hurt naught to take her with him. She faced little threat from the less honorable men amongst their ranks as long as she stayed close.
He held out his hand.
Anne stared at it as if he offered her thorns. He anticipated her refusal. But then she slipped her palm into his, her dainty fingers clasping gently, and she stood. The smile she gave him stuttered his heart. He said a silent thankful prayer they met at sword point, for if she had smiled at him thus, he would have done anything to make her his.
Anything.
With a gentle tug, he led her out the door.
They walked in silence down the corridor. Where their palms met, his skin warmed. Caught by the rush of pleasant sensations that worked their way up his arm, he shifted his hold to twine his fingers through hers. A gentleman would release her hand, tuck the
He turned around and presented her with his left arm. “Does it match this?”
Anne’s eyes widened a fraction. There, twining around his bulging bicep were two tattooed snakes, joined head to head. Where their bodies intersected, they formed the same Templar cross that the pair on her ankle created. Both deep ebony. Both with eyes of gold.
Just like hers.
Oh shit.
She recovered enough to pretend she inspected the design with an eye for details. No way in hell was she about to tell this man who didn’t think twice about throwing her over his shoulder to get what he wanted, that she belonged to him. Beyond all the other very logical reasons she couldn’t stay, the one repeated vision she’d had of him showed him dead. She would not be party to that—either active participant or passive observer. And she certainly wouldn’t give Merrick any more reasons to hawk over her or confine her in someplace even smaller with fewer modern comforts.
“No,” she murmured. In a stronger voice she added, “Nice art, but I’ve never seen it before.”
CHAPTER 7
A piece of Merrick’s soul crumpled and died with Anne’s rejection. He turned away, unable to look at her until he was certain the unexpected ache would not present itself in his expression. He had known better. They were too incompatible. Too ill-suited to possess a preordained fate. And yet, some traitorous portion of his spirit had dared to hope mayhap she would take this darkness from him and allow him to live.
He tugged his shirt over his head and took a deep, fortifying breath. So she was not meant for him—all the more reason to find her mate and rid himself of her quickly. Each passing day her intended took a step closer to damnation, and Merrick would not carry the burden of a brother’s fall because, in some secret forbidden place in his heart, he enjoyed the saucy maid.
“I shall return.” He reached for his sword and buckled it around his waist.
“Where are you going?”
“To retrieve my men. Mikhail has ordered them away. Before they go, we must see if you belong to one of them.” Her harassed sigh as he reached for the door gave him pause. “Something distresses you?”
She worried her fingers through her long hair. “I don’t want to sit in this room any longer. Please, take me with you.”
The renegade part of him he had not fully beaten into submission took pity on her. His frown faded, and he gave her a slow nod. “If we do not find your intended in my men, we shall talk, and I shall take you to the dining hall. Until you understand the nature of the temple, however, you must remain here.”
“Merrick, take me with you. Please. I can’t take another minute more in this room.”
The pleading quality behind her bright blue eyes stabbed into him like a red-hot poker. He gave little thought to his chambers; they serviced his need for sleep, naught else. He had never considered how they might appear to someone else—guests were forbidden, and the men shared identical small enclosures. As he glanced around his sleeping quarters, he understood how she would find them bland and boring. It could hurt naught to take her with him. She faced little threat from the less honorable men amongst their ranks as long as she stayed close.
He held out his hand.
Anne stared at it as if he offered her thorns. He anticipated her refusal. But then she slipped her palm into his, her dainty fingers clasping gently, and she stood. The smile she gave him stuttered his heart. He said a silent thankful prayer they met at sword point, for if she had smiled at him thus, he would have done anything to make her his.
Anything.
With a gentle tug, he led her out the door.
They walked in silence down the corridor. Where their palms met, his skin warmed. Caught by the rush of pleasant sensations that worked their way up his arm, he shifted his hold to twine his fingers through hers. A gentleman would release her hand, tuck the
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