Chasing the Lion by Kimball Nancy

Author:Kimball, Nancy [Kimball, Nancy]
Language: eng
Format: azw3
Publisher: Nancy Kimball
Published: 2014-04-23T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter 22 – Old Friend

Valentina’s gaze crawled from Jonathan’s face to his feet before returning to his eyes. “I was angry to learn you were still alive. Until I saw how much gladiator life agrees with you.”

Her satisfied sigh ripped through him like a sword.

“If it was your allegiance to my husband that kept you from me, you’re no longer bound to it. You can give in now to the desire that lies within you.” She rolled her shoulders, and the edges of her cloak fell behind them to reveal a blue silk tunic clinging to her body like a second skin.

“My desire?” His voice trembled as he raised his hand to her neck and gripped as tight as he dared. With his other hand he traced her cheekbone, the smooth perfection of her skin. “My desire is to kill you slowly.”

Her eyes widened in a fear he relished. He allowed his grip on her neck to tighten, his thumb pressing hard into the jugular vein he’d been trained to sever. “To watch the life drain from your eyes while I crush your throat.”

Jonathan. Nessa’s voice whispered his name like a prayer, breaking through the storm of wrath. For her, he found the strength to let go. The fear passed from Valentina’s eyes as she swallowed and rubbed her neck. For one beautiful moment, he had controlled her. But it couldn’t last. Though no longer hers, he was still a slave. She knew that as well as he did.

She put her hand flat to his chest in a gesture of unearned familiarity. “Is that any way to greet an old friend?”

He grabbed her bared arms and shoved her back as roughly as he dared, curling his hands into fists to keep from striking her. “Keep your prostitute hands off me.”

Valentina straightened where she’d caught herself on the edge of the bed. “Careful who you call a prostitute, slave. I paid for the pleasure of your company. Not the other way around.”

“It makes no difference which direction the coin passes, though you’d like to believe it does.”

She raised her hand and swung, but he was faster. He snatched her wrist and held on before her slap reached his face. Her other arm shot up, and he grabbed that one and held both even tighter. Her struggle to free herself pulled Jonathan with her toward the wall. The instant he released her she would attempt hitting him again, so he held on. He flattened her against the wall with the full press of his body, less she begin to kick at him too. If she managed to strike him, he knew he would hit her back—and not be able to stop.

The need to exact retribution cried out with every breath. Trapped between the crush of his body and the wall, the heat of her breath covered his face as her chest heaved against his own. She finally stilled, and her gaze went to his mouth.

Her lips met his, scorching like salt in a fresh wound.

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