The Eye of the Wolf (35 page)

Will tugged at the button that held her practical
jeans in place and peeled them away, leaving her bare beneath. His hands
smoothed over her skin, leaving a hot trail. His mouth traced that trail across
her belly and over her breasts until he returned to drown in her mouth, in the
heaven that was there. He felt like he was dying, drowning within her, but he wasn’t
ready yet. He wasn’t ready for his salvation for surely she was an angel sent
to set him free from his sins.

Mikayla tugged at his clothes, wanting to feel his
skin against her own. Wanting to feel him. She had never felt this intense
need  before. Before, there had never been an ache to be touched. There
had never been an ache to be lost within that moment. Now, however, she needed
him. She knew she had to have release. She gasped out his name only to be
quieted by another kiss that blinded her senses and left her demanding more.
The world slipped away as he touched her, drawing from her secrets she hadn’t
known existed.

Will’s hands streaked over her body, feeling the
silk that was slicked with sweat. He cupped her, feeling the heat that radiated
from within her and longed to be part of that heat. She was ready for him. She
moved against him, in a sweet, gentle rhythm that rocked him to a peak that
amazed and humbled him.

Mikayla cried out when he touched her; first in
surprise and then in pleasure. This was a pleasure that was new to her, a
pleasure that had never been experienced before. She knotted her fingers in his
hair and moaned as he caressed her and suckled on her breasts, stroking her
nipples with cool lips, bringing her pleasure. Her limbs were tense, fighting
for control when she slipped over the edge of the precipice and cried out,
moving beneath his hand as he brought her to climax.

Mikayla’s limbs went lax and her hands slid from
Will’s shoulders. Her body felt like melted wax and her mind was blank except
for him. Her eyes fluttered open as he ran his hands over her torso, tracing
the gentle curve of her body beneath his fingertips. His mouth was cool against
her skin as it traced a line down to her center. He followed his trail back to her
mouth, trailing his tongue along her slightly parted lips swollen from him,
vowing himself to take his time, to temper his own need though he felt as if he
would burst. She murmured his name against his mouth and sighed when his hand
cupped her breast, massaging it gently.

Will slipped between her parted lips, teasing her
tongue with his own, tasting her as she slowly slid a hand up his arm and into
his hair. He had had no idea how wonderful it would feel, how erotic it would
be to have her slim fingers twined in his hair, holding him into a kiss that
killed them both. Her fingers trailed down his spine leaving a burning line in
their wake in his skin, tickling him, driving him insane. His own hands were
beyond his control and again, they found their way to her. Driving her up.
Driving him mad with need. Her world and control slipped away as he brought her
pleasure to a peak, but it wasn’t only her world that was slipping away. His
world disappeared into only her. There was nothing else left, no ocean crashing,
no crying seagulls, nothing except her, lost in her arms.

She gasped out his name as she teetered on the edge
of that climax. Her pulse roared in her ears and had she been conscious of the
rest of the world beyond her own intense desire, she would have wondered why it
didn’t burst at that moment, how she had survived. She sighed as he rained
kisses over her skin and ran his fingers over her, driving her further up until
she was just about to plunge head first into oblivion. Then, when she thought
she was at her peak, he would pull his hand back and kiss her, leaving her
senseless. Her moans joined the roar of the waves outside.

Mikayla’s clever fingers sought him out. When her
fingers wrapped around him, Will exhaled a breath he hadn’t known he was holding.
Then, his eyes met hers. Her normally bright blue eyes were dark, like the
ocean outside, drawing him in, threatening to swamp him with need.

“Will…” his name washed over him, pulling him in,
drowning him in her need and his own ache. Her body arched beneath him and as
she teetered on a peak, he slid into her, feeling her wrap around him. Her name
whispered from his lips as she surrendered to him. Heat surrounded him and he
was aware of nothing except that heat, except her. She wrapped around him and
moved with him, driving them both towards that cliff. He clung to her and when
she plunged into another world, he buried his face in her hair and fell,
falling into that same oblivion.

Spray crashed over the deck,
soaking her skin and hair even as a breeze captured her hair and dragged it
into her mouth. Teal blue straps covered shoulders tanned from too many hours
spent wiling away hours in a bright spring sun. Teal blue eyes danced as lusty
laughter floated in the air, rising and falling with each of the waves.
Sunlight streamed through the cheerful cherry red sail slapping madly in the
ocean zephyrs. The Mediterranean spread out before them in a mad dance of azure
blue. It was a perfect afternoon.

He tightened the jib and
wrapped the rope around his arm. His eyes stayed trained on the horizon as Amor
disappeared into the haze of the afternoon behind him. Wild blond hairs fell
across his face, falling into laughing gray eyes, eyes that didn’t stop
laughing even as the wind changed directions and he battled to keep
Anonymity
under control.

Mikayla leaned back, enjoying
the moment, forgetting there was a world beyond those blue waters, forgetting
death and destruction as she steeped herself in the scents of the sea and the
man who swore under his breath in three languages. Spray coated her in salt,
but it was peaceful out where only the dolphins and sea gulls danced. She
sighed again and smiled to herself. She watched Will’s lithe body covered only
in navy swim trunks move around the boat, dropping the anchor, and tethering
the sails. Finely-toned muscles rippled across his back as he stretched and
moved, lost in the task of dealing with a sailboat. Broad shoulders and
well-shaped muscles narrowed into hips that tapered into perfectly sculpted
legs. It was quite enjoyable watching him when he didn’t know she was watching
him. Lust filled her as sunlight shot gold through his hair. She felt like a
Cheshire cat who had just lapped up all of the cream until her heart
flip-flopped when he shot a quick, heart-melting grin over a shoulder. She
couldn’t help it, even though she argued that her reactions, though natural,
were wrong. She reminded herself that the world still existed and what existed
between them was as much a fairytale as a the story of Cinderella. Memories of
murder and mayhem picked at the edge of her memory even as Will’s arm slipped
around her shoulders pulling her back into fantasy. He leaned his head against
hers and pressed a tender kiss to her temple.

“I understand why you didn’t want
to tell me, Will.” She hadn’t meant to say it. She hadn’t even realized she had
been thinking it until the words were out of her mouth. Once they were in the
air, she couldn’t take them back. She waited through the silence and still as
his lips ceased to press against her, but he still leaned against her. The only
sound was the soft slapping of the waves against the hull and the creaking of
the boat beneath them.

Will leaned back and stared at
her profile, memorizing the proud tilt of her head as she gazed straight ahead,
memorizing the long lashes that shielded deep blue eyes. Wild, auburn curls
ringed her face where they had escaped the messy bun at the back of her head.
Shocked once again at her beauty, but tense with desire as he memorized curves that
showcased well in a teal blue barely-there bikini, another surprise from
someone who was so practical in everything. There was nothing practical about
this little number. He had to admit, he had enjoyed watching the jean shorts
slide from perfect hips to the deck to reveal a swatch of clothing that was
probably illegal in many countries. He thanked his lucky stars they were in the
Mediterranean. She practically killed him when she had removed the simple white
t-shirt to real little triangles of matching teal. He remembered vaguely
licking his lips.

Now, he sighed and reached for
the picnic basket beneath the seat. He said nothing, not knowing what to say.

“What do you mean, you
understand, Mikayla?” His heart hammered in his chest; his breath caught. He
didn’t know why he was nervous. There was no reason to be. He had been honest
with her, mostly, he reminded himself. There was nothing to cause this
nervousness that filled him. He carefully began to unpack the meal a cook in
the Secluded City had carefully packed, believing that the lovely professor was
too thin, and that the prince was too desperate.

Mikayla turned her head
slightly and leaned forward. Her hand stilled Will’s as he unpacked the French
bread and wine. She waited until those stormy eyes were on hers.  “I know
about Jonathan and his death. I understand why you would want to hide.”

Will raised his head and looked
into her eyes. Her blue eyes were warm, reflecting love that filled her own
heart and also sadness, he supposed, for the boy who had killed his own
brother. He started to speak but she pressed her fingers to his lips to quiet
him. There was also something there that broke his heart: distrust.

“You don’t have to say
anything. I already told you I understand. I’m sorry I was mean to you before.
It is unforgivable.” She smiled when he pressed a warm kiss to her fingertips
and then took her hand in his own, turning it to press his lips to the back of
her hand.

“Mikayla, I want to tell you,
but it’s difficult… I want you to know what happened. I want you to know how I
killed my own brother, the true heir to the throne.” He released her hand and
opened the bottle of wine, catching the scent of it in the air. A perfect
vintage, of course. Nothing in Amor was ever less than perfect, except perhaps
for the royal family. He poured carefully into the crystal goblets from the
basket. He handed one carefully to Mikayla’s hand, their fingers brushing
intimately. His voice became far away, as if he were in another time and
speaking to her.

“It was a beautiful day when we first set off, the
three of us. Jonathan had just returned for summer hiatus from Oxford. He was
twenty-two at the time.” He smiled at the memory of his brother. “He was tall,
good-looking, dark gray eyes and tons of wild blond hair. Women loved him. He
was the most eligible bachelor in the magazine, GQ, that year. He thought that
was very funny.”

Will settled into the seat and
sipped from his glass. He swirled the merlot in the glass, watching the sun
catch the perfect burgundy of the wine and shoot fire through it. He wrapped
one arm casually around Mikayla’s shoulders, not realizing that despite the
casual air, he needed it. He needed her touch. She was comforting. He hadn’t
realized how easy it would be to tell her the story, with her warm beside him,
listening and offering no comment, merely listening as no one ever had before.
“He was brilliant. He would have made an excellent king. He had a mind for it,
and he expected to become king. I had returned from England with him where I had
just matriculated from Eton College. I was planning on attending school in
London to study photography. I was the youngest, after all, since Victoria is
four minutes older than I am. I was also the second son. I would never inherit
the throne, and truthfully, I didn’t want it.” He paused. His voice became
soft. “I still don’t want it.”

He sighed deeply and continued,
lost in his memories, hardly aware of Mikayla’s presence as he traveled through
time in his mind. “It was my idea to go sailing. I’ve always loved the sea. I
had this little skiff that I liked to take out into the water when the weather
was perfect. It was perfect that day, but I forgot to check the weather
forecast. They were predicting squalls; if I had checked, I would have known.
We would have never gone out.” Will swallowed the lump that was building in his
throat. “Jonathan was a poor swimmer. He was also afraid of the water. We went
out in the boat. We were having a wonderful time until a squall came upon us,
out of nowhere, just like they always do. It hemmed us in. The wind seemed to
be coming from all directions at once. The sails were getting torn apart in the
wind. I had to go rev the engine to get it started. I made sure Jonathan and
Victoria both had on their life jackets. I went below. It was while I was down
below that the boat rolled on its side, throwing me all over the place.”

He leaned against her and let
one small sob echo in the air. Mikayla’s hand caressed his cheek, but she said
nothing. She could have never known that her patience and presence did more to
ease his heart than any trite comment ever could. “Through the wind, I could
hear Victoria screaming. It took me a minute to understand her. She was
screaming for Jonathan; she kept screaming his name. I made my way up to the
top where I had left them, the engine puttering slowly. Victoria was wild,
leaning over the edge, screaming ‘Johnny, Johnny!’ He wasn’t there. His seat
was empty. We circled around in the storm for hours, even after it disappeared,
looking for him, calling for him. I dove into the water at some point and did
dives down looking for him.”

Will lifted his head and
watched a sea gull float on the thermals above. He could hear the waves
crashing against the hull, reminding him of the loss of a brother and a friend.
The loss of a brilliant future. “We never found his body. Washed away in the
currents.” He looked into Mikayla’s eyes, eyes that were filled with grief. “My
brother is dead, and it is my fault, Mikayla. I inherited the title that day. I
inherited a country, a country I want nothing to do with other than to just
call it home.”