Prince of Power (House of Terriot Book 2) Page 9

  A sober gaze rose to his, filled with regret, with. . . pity? Colin dropped to one knee, seizing his shirt front, twisting it tight enough to choke him, the same way he strangled on his own fear.

  “Why are you here? Why are you sticking to me like a bad date? If it’s not to trip me up—” Colin broke off, the sudden insight almost too terrible to pursue. But he couldn’t let it go. He had to know. “Because you don’t trust me.”

  His brother’s expression told him everything.

  “Dammit, Red, what is it that you think I’ve done?”

  “It’s not me, Col,” Rico blurted out before he could catch himself.

  Silence fell between them as Colin sat hard on the floor, stunned, confused, not wanting to believe it when he whispered hoarsely, “Cale? Cale doesn’t trust me? Then why would he ask me to act on his behalf? What does he think I’m doing? Lying to him? About what? Is it Mia? Does he think I’d turn against my own because of her?” Had their older brother seen into the twisted machinations of his heart?

  “It’s not Cale,” Rico insisted, unable to stand his brother’s torment. “He doesn’t know anything about—”

  Colin’s attention sharpened. “About what? Just tell me!”

  “James! You were seen with James.”

  He blinked as if unfairly struck and shook his head, unable to comprehend it. “You thought I was throwing in with Jamie? Against our clan? Against our family?”

  “I didn’t, Col. Not for a minute. But I promised—”

  “Who? Who did you promise?”

  When Rico clamped his mouth shut, his features stoic, Colin could think of only one person who commanded that much loyalty, other than their king.

  Tone lifeless, he concluded, “Kendra asked you to spy on me to see if I’d betray our people to James. And you did, because you thought there was a possibility that I had or I would.”

  To be guilty of disillusionment was one thing. Treason was quite another.

  “If it’s not true, what were you doing with him, Colin?”

  “Where?”

  “When we were at that amusement park rescuing our queen and our sister. Tina saw you talking to Jamie alone. You didn’t try to capture him. You just let him walk away. After he tried to kill our king! Were you in on it with him, Col? With what he planned to do to Turow?”

  Softly, furiously, Colin demanded, “Get out of my house. Stay the hell away from me. If I see you again, you won’t live to regret it.”

  “Colin—”

  “Get out!”

  He sat on the floor, dazed and disbelieving, long after Rico had gone. Finally, he crawled his way up to his feet using the side of the couch and reached for his phone, leaving a message.

  “Jamie. Call me.”

  Rico picked up after the third ring. "Hey. I didn't think you had my number."

  Amber James smiled at the sound of his pleased surprise. "Honey, I've always had your number."

  His chuckle was weary but warm, and sexy as hell. "What can I do for you?"

  The innuendo clenched between her thighs, making her question that much more awkward. "I need to get in touch with you and your brother's lady friend. Something was left for her here at the bar."

  "I can pick it up and take it to her."

  His eagerness was a cold dash to that momentary flush of passion. "No. That's okay. It's girl stuff."

  "Oh."

  She grinned, imagining his horror, then quickly jotted down the cell number. "Thanks. You're a doll."

  He really was. She cut the connection and dialed. The sultry voice on the other end made her teeth hurt.

  "Hi. This is Amber from CdC. Something was left for you here at the bar. Can you come pick it up? It's perishable. Great. See you in a few."

  Smiling, she went to top off Colin Terriot's drink, earning a lopsided smile. No. Don't thank me yet, big guy. But you'll want to later.

  Mia entered the crowded club and headed straight to the bar. In no mood to interact with the locals, she was anxious to just grab and go with whatever Amber was holding for her. She caught the other woman's attention then was puzzled by her secretive smile as her head tipped toward the end of the crowded counter. Her gaze followed. Understanding punching into her like an adrenalin shot to the heart, she nodded her thanks.

  Colin looked up blearily as her hands capped his slumped shoulders. He blinked as if doubting his vision.

  "Hey, dreamboat, can I give you a lift someplace before you find yourself riding the floorboards?"

  "Don't need your help," he muttered with a surly petulance.

  "In finding the floor? I know, but you wouldn't want to miss the chance to grope me inappropriately under the pretext of being shitfaced."

  He pondered that for a moment, slightly puzzled until a dim bulb clicked on dropping his focus to her chest.

  "Wouldn't want to do that," he agreed. He fumbled for his wallet and put a startling stack of bills on the counter. Amber slipped over to take one off the top and pushed the rest back at him before hurrying to catch another order.

  Colin frowned. "I meant for her to take all of it." Sighing, he crammed the wallet and the bills back into his pocket. "She's a nice girl."

  "Yes, she is," Mia agreed, gently removing the glass from his hand.

  "I don't know many nice girls." Before she could object, not that she really could, he sighed heavily. "She's in love with Rico, you know."

  "I know."

  "But he's only interested in . . . someone else."

  She smiled gently at his gruff complaint. "I know."

  "He's a blind fool. The Prince of Fools."

  "He is. A common trait amongst his brothers."

  Colin puzzled over that, as if wondering which of his other brothers she knew, until Mia draped his arm about her shoulders.

  "Can you get up?" She tugged, but he weighed a ton.

  "I can always get up," he announced loud and proud.

  "I know," she shushed as attention turned their way. "Is your car out front?"

  He leaned into her to whisper, "I don't think I should be driving." Then he forgot how to find his way back from the curve of her neck. His tone dropped a rumbly octave. "You smell really nice. Come home with me. I'll get my car. It's out back."

  "Why don't you show me the way."

  He managed to stand and walk but was rudderless. Waving a hand to Amber, she steered him toward the back door, coaxing him up the steps. Even in heels, she barely came to his shoulder. He draped along hers like a sack of cement.

  The night had grown wet and cool as a storm front nipped by the edge of the Quarter on its way inland. Mia propped Colin up against the passenger side of his car and fished for his keys in his pants’ pockets.

  “Hey! Usually you have to buy me a drink first.”

  She smiled at his objection and unlocked the door. Before she could shove him inside, one of his big hands found the side of her face and his was up close and personal.

  “I need to get you home,” she began in half-hearted protest as he leaned down, his mouth settling over hers, smothering any complaint she might, but didn’t, have. That slow, reacquainting union left her weak-kneed and breathless before forcing her to push him back, dropping him into the passenger seat so she could shut him inside. He didn’t stir when the car hummed to life, so she figured he’d passed out, until he spoke quietly as she maneuvered down the narrow streets.

  “I love my family. There’s nothing I wouldn’t do for them. I’d give my life, but it’s not enough. Not good enough.”

  She reached over to rub his arm. “Things will look better tomorrow when you’re thinking clearly.”

  “I said awful things to Rico.”

  “He’ll forgive you.”

  “No. I don’t think so. Nothing can ever be the same again.”

  “Do you want it to be?” When he fell silent, letting her question soak through his alcohol haze, she prompted, “What do you want, Colin? For yourself, not for them.”

  He did
n’t answer right away, introspection probably too much to ask. But he surprised her, saying in that low, raspy rumble, “I want to be a part of something that matters. I want to make things better. I thought I was, but I was wrong.”

  Her attention sharpened. What changed during his time on their mountain?

  “I’m tired. I don’t want to hurt so damn much. There’s nothing I can do to make my life worth as much as theirs would have been. Not when my family, my king,” that tore from him like a bandage off a raw wound, “doesn’t believe in me. What am I going to do, Mia? What am I going to do?” His hand curled about hers, clutching tight.

  She was an ugly crier. The red, snotty nose, blotchy skin, eyes that swelled shut. But Colin Terriot, damn him, was majestic and somehow even stronger in his distress. There was such heartbreaking nobility in his glistening eyes, such humbling vulnerability in his labored, hiccupping breaths. And she felt ashamed for pushing him to that miserable low.

  Now she had that Achilles heel should she ever need to apply pressure. His family. His love and unwarranted guilt where they were concerned left a tender opening a mile wide for her to exploit. Rico’d hurt him out of careless and questionable good intentions. When she wounded him, it would be an un-survivable injury. But could she? Could she thrust that killing blade into him and twist it without mercy? For Daniel, her weak-willed brother who hadn’t possessed a micron of this powerful male’s integrity? No. For her own lust for control?

  Something surprisingly crept into her thoughts, so far left field from all her plans, it shocked her into silence. Something she explored cautiously, carefully, almost fearfully.

  What good was a crown when wearing it alone?

  Here, as unlikely as it seemed, was the only man she’d ever felt worthy of her attention. He’d slipped between a chink in her impervious armor to strike through a heart she’d claimed unbreakable.

  Could she have him and still have it all?

  And suddenly a way was clear.

  “You’re going to rise above them, Colin,” she told him with a quiet fierceness. He’d turned his head away to press his temple to the window glass. She wasn’t sure he heard her. “Above all the pain they’ve cost you. I’m going to help you. We’re going to help each other.”

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Colin woke naked and alone from a blissfully dreamless sleep, his pounding head the only reminder of the good time he must have had. He glanced warily behind him, gratefully spared the awkwardness of being nose to nose with some nameless stranger. Not much of a morning conversationalist when the first question was “Who the hell are you?”, he needed time for strong coffee to cut a path for what little social grace he had to seep out.

  A bleary glance found his clothing neatly stacked at the foot of his bed. His frown deepened. Who’d tucked him in? He hadn’t showered, and there was no sticky evidence that he’d had a roll-around with anyone. The last thing he remembered was the ugly fight with Rico and heading for the Shifter bar . . .

  Shit.

  The car!

  He jumped out of bed and ran to the front of his little home, standing bare to the world in the full-length window, heart lurching until he saw the sleek black silhouette at the curb out front, neatly tucked in for the night. His door was locked, his keys and wallet were on the breakfast bar. All the empties had been collected and tucked away, out of sight but not out of pounding mind.

  Thanking whatever guardian angel had seen him safely home, he headed for the coffee maker.

  Time to get his crap together.

  He hadn’t picked a modern health club filled with state-of-the-art machines, posing pretty boys and their personal trainers. He went old-school men’s gym.

  The smell of sweat and Ben Gay greeted Mia at the door. For a moment, she thought she was alone, that the information from their surveillance had been wrong. It was dark in the large central room. The boxing ring, simple weight benches, speed bags and free weight racks stood blanketed in silence. Then she heard the steady tattoo of knuckles against leather.

  Dull, early-morning light filtered down through a slant of dingy windows overhead. Swirls of dust motes drifted about the lone figure punishing the heavy bag, lending a grainy, old-film quality of stark relief to fiercely defined muscle, bunching, flexing, gliding in a shadow play of near-poetic movement.

  She’d wanted to make sure he was all right. That’s all. Obviously, he was. So, she could leave. She should leave. Before he noticed her. But Colin Terriot held Mia entranced. Gorgeous, cut, the perfect solid, sexy male. She couldn’t wait to put her hands on that strong, sweaty build.

  Drawstring shorts rode his hips, hugging nicely-rounded butt and sturdy thighs. She’d never thought of thighs as particularly erotic, but his had her imaging herself trapped between their compression. That’s where she’d hoped to spend the previous night as thanks for being a good Samaritan. The second she’d guided him through his front door, he’d started shedding clothes in a trail to that big welcoming bed. The sight of him sprawled across it in naked splendor invited thoughts his first lusty snore cruelly discouraged. So, she’d tucked him in, tidied up and forced herself to walk away before she foolishly acted upon the confusion between heart and mind.

  The handsome Terriot unbalanced her. Today she needed to recover it.

  The rhythmic thud of the gloves drew her appreciation upward to caress glistening flesh stretched taut and tempting over a purposefully honed physique. Not a sleek, dark Porsche like most Guedry males, he was a Land Rover, built to conquer with force, to withstand harsh elements and still provide an enviable ride over the roughest terrain. A ride not about comfort and speed, but rather the dangerous thrill.

  She hadn’t made a sound but suddenly he tensed, aware of her. He turned, gloved fists raised as if expecting a fight. That, she’d happily provide.

  “What’d that bag ever do to you?”

  His reply drawled low and gruff. “It got in my way.”

  Her gaze stroked from an exertion-dappled brow lowered into a stormy horizon over narrowed eyes to those luscious lips parted slightly by labored breaths. Dipped down into the cradle of his clavicle, flirted with the bold wolf’s head tattoo adorning one delicious pec, taking a thrill ride down the moguls of his abs to play in the tempting whorls of hair rising above the low waistband of his shorts. She bit her lower lip. Oh, yum!

  “What are you doing here, Mia?” Curt and to the irritated point. No mention of the night before. Not even a thank you.

  “I came to get in a workout. Feel like obliging me?”

  Disapproval may have narrowed his mouth, but his stare glittered with possibilities. “Maybe you should go to the girly spa down the street.”

  She couldn’t wait to knock that smug look off his face. “Afraid I’ll hurt you?”

  His mouth twitched at her sassy taunt. “In ways you wouldn’t imagine.”

  “You have no idea what I’m imagining. Want to find out?”

  That steady gaze caught fire, but his reply remained cool. “I guess I could hold back so you won’t get bruised too badly.”

  “Don’t do me any favors, pal. I won’t do you any.”

  I just want to do you.

  Colin weighed the sultry innuendo of her pursed lips against the snap of her challenge. And slowly he smiled. “Ring or mats?”

  “Mats. I want to get up close and really personal.”

  His heated stare never left hers as he used his teeth to tug the laces loose on his glove so he could shake them off. With a flourishing wave, he said, “Ladies first.”

  “How’s the head?” she asked, stepping onto the slightly springy mat.

  His brows lowered. “Fine. Why wouldn’t it be?” Then his fingertips brushed the bruises on his face. “Oh, you mean these. They hit like girls.”

  He didn’t remember? Nothing? Not the ride, not their talk?

  “This girl’s punch you’ll remember. When you wake up.”

  He grinned wide, and she fell into that smile heart fir
st.

  At 5’3”, she stood dwarfed in the shadow of his long reach and amazing strength. But her size and sex were a benefit, too, pulling him off center and making him more careful than he normally would be when sparring. Mia knew no such restraint. She went after him like a scrappy mongoose with a cobra, striking quick and ducking away fast, slipping under his radar. He smiled, amused by her efforts. And that wouldn’t do. He might think they were playing. But to her, it was no game.

  A sweep behind his knees followed by an elbow to his sternum dropped him, stunned and breathless, on his back. She flung herself onto him only to find herself rolled and pinned beneath him, his hips doing a subtle rocking into hers. He was more than just a little hard.

  “There’s no humping in sparring,” she seethed, wedging her knees up, levering to send him tumbling over her head. But he was so fast, rolling, twisting, up on his feet again. And much less playful. This was the Colin who’d said good-bye to her outside her hotel. And she couldn’t let him go.

  They went hand to hand, grappling, knocking away each other’s attempts to secure a hold until she maneuvered around, twisting his arm up high behind him, driving her knee into the back of one of his to take him down into a three-point crouch, where she stretched out along his back. Breathing hard into his ear, she sucked his diamond earring into her mouth and gnawed the fleshy lobe with sharp little bites.

  A hard shiver raced through him as he growled, “No fair.”

  “That was humping. This is nibbling.”

  When she tumbled off him, rolling nimbly to her feet, he caught her ankle, jerking sharply so she fell back on her rump. He lunged forward, catching her around the waist while she twisted unto hands and knees, trying to break free. One big hand surrounded her right breast, the other dipped between her legs. Before she could protest, he clarified, “This isn’t humping. It’s groping. What’s your call?”

  Her back arched, encouraging contact until another rough voice intruded. “Hey! You all right there, ma’am?”

  Mia’s attention snapped the intruder’s way as she snarled, “Fine, but you won’t be if you don’t mind your own business!”