“I need your mouth,” she said, and dipped a finger into the wetness between her legs, “here.”

He complied without hesitation, pushing her hand aside to cover her with his mouth. He wasn’t gentle; she didn’t want him to be. He was rough and demanding, sliding his fingers inside her without preliminaries, sucking hard where she most needed it. She arched and cried out, her sounds of pleasure and his growls of desire drowned by the music. He brought her right to the edge of release, then stopped.

She blinked open her eyes. He stared up at her, her eyes feral in the flickering light.

“I think we’re going to need some protection.”

She didn’t understand until he reached for her jacket, and pulled her gloves from the pocket.

She laughed weakly. He helped her put them on, then positioned himself above her, his arms braced on either side of her head. He eased himself inside her without ever looking away from her eyes, so she could see exactly how good it felt for him, a look she knew was mirrored in her own eyes.

When he was fully seated, he cupped a firm hand under her bottom and leaned down to whisper in her ear.

“Feel good?”

Her answer was a low moan, which made him chuckle. He slid out, then back in, deep, wringing another moan from her throat.

“Tell me,” he said, husky. “Tell me how good it feels, angel.”

“Better than anything, ever.” Her voice was unsteady. He slid in and out again, achingly slow, and her legs began to shake.

“Tell me you love it.” His words were hot and demanding at her ear.

“Oh yes, yes, I love it.” Her fingers were digging into his hips and she was pulling at him, trying to get him to go faster, harder, but he stayed in control, keeping that slow, languorous rhythm.

Then, his voice ragged, he whispered, “Tell me you love me, angel.”

He turned his face and looked at her through hooded eyes, and Lu felt as if her heart would burst wide open. “Magnus,” she whispered.

“Tell me, angel. Say it,” he demanded harshly, his face strained. “I need to hear you say it.”

“I love you,” she said, dissolving, her eyes filling with moisture. “I love you. I love—”

Abandoning all his careful control, Magnus crushed his mouth against hers. His body crashed into hers and he began to pump with hard, powerful strokes, claiming her, possessing her body and her heart and her soul. She met every thrust with one of her own, her hips taking over, both of them going crazy, grabbing, clawing, panting, groaning, all restraint thrown aside.

“God now, please now!” she begged, writhing.

Magnus must have been right there, because he moaned, “Yes!” and thrust one last time. Every muscle in his body went taut.

Lu opened her eyes and looked up at him, this man who’d saved her in so many ways, and watched him fall apart.

She fell apart with him. They stared at each other through it, both of them stunned and wide-eyed, breathless and wracked with full body shudders, glistening with sweat. He said her name, low and hoarse, the word full of wonder. Beyond the curtains, the music rose to a throbbing crescendo, and the crowd roared.

Her heart on fire, Lu thought, I would die for you.

She didn’t know it then, but that simple, impassioned thought changed the course of fate.

THIRTY-ONE

Magnus carried her all the way back to the room. She was as boneless as a ragdoll, worn out by their lovemaking but also by the enormity of her emotions, and the effort not to think about what might be coming next. All she wanted was a shower, and to sleep.

So they shared a bath in the ridiculously huge claw-foot bathtub, running hot water without a thought to the credits it cost. Magnus washed her tenderly, and she washed him, and after they dried off, they fell into bed and slept like the dead.

Lu awoke hours later, disoriented and thirsty, feeling certain someone had just called her name. But the room was still, the music from before silent.

The ghost of her name came again, raising goose bumps on her arms. Carefully, silently, she rose and dressed. With a last, lingering look at Magnus, sleeping peacefully on his back with his arm thrown over his face, she left the room.

The mansion was as quiet as their bedroom. She wandered aimlessly through vast, echoing corridors and lavish, empty rooms, until finally she came upon the kitchen. There sat Gregor MacGregor alone at a long, wooden table, staring in silent contemplation at his hands, twisting his pinky ring around with his thumb.

He glanced up when she came in, and smiled, looking awfully pleased with himself.

“You rang?” she said, rubbing a fist against an eye sleepily.

“Wondered if that would work. Must be because you were traipsin’ around in my noggin earlier, eh? Now we have some kind of Vulcan mind meld going on?”

Lu shrugged. “Beats me, Gregor. I didn’t come with an instruction manual, and it’s been hell figuring out how this whole contraption works.” She made a vague, sweeping gesture with her hand, indicating her entire body, and its assorted bells and whistles.

He stood, lifting his bulk from the table with surprising agility for such a large man, and went to a refrigerator the size of her bedroom in the house where she’d grown up. “You hungry, lass?”

“Starving,” Lu admitted. “But is that really why you called me?”

He hesitated a moment with his hand on the refrigerator door. “No.” He opened the door, began rummaging through the refrigerator’s contents. “But I find it’s hard to think on an empty stomach, don’t you?”

Lu made no comment, having had to think on an empty stomach her entire life. Judging by his size, MacGregor had never had that particular problem.

He made her a sandwich with cheese, ham, and fresh tomato, of all things, on wheat bread. When he put it in front of her, Lu looked at it as if it had just arrived from outer space.

“What?” he said, affronted.

“I saw a tomato once before. In a book.”

“I have them flown in from Sardinia. I love this heirloom variety; they’re so perky.”

Lu stared at him. “Sardinia. Flown in from Sardinia.”

He nodded.

“But the only flights allowed anywhere are military!”

“You think that soldier at the gate is the only man who ever took a bribe?” Gregor answered, brows quirked. “Everyone has somethin’ they want, lass. And, even better for me, everyone has a price they’ll pay to get it. Now eat your sandwich.”

Lu picked up the sandwich, and took a huge bite. It was delicious. She swallowed, took another bite, said around a mouthful, “But . . . tomatoes?”

It was his turn to shrug now. “It’s a little venture of mine. The grow light fields are adequate, but you need real sunlight for real taste. The IF doesn’t keep the isotope clouds over any of the major islands of Europe anymore, or watch ’em now that they’re deserted for that matter, so on Sardinia I’ve got a bloody great biome project with all my favorite—”

“Wait,” Lu interrupted, shocked once again. “You know about the isotope clouds?”

“Of course,” he answered, sitting across from her, calm as the Buddha. “I told you before; tisn’t anything I don’t know.”

“No, what you said was there wasn’t anything you didn’t know about Magnus and me,” Lu replied tartly. That made him laugh. She’d devoured half the sandwich by the time he stopped.

“Ach, how I love a woman with a memory like a steel trap! Eliana’s the exact same way.” His eyes grew wistful, his lips pursed. “What I wouldn’a give to see that one again,” he mused, shaking his head. He sobered after a moment, fixing her in his shrewd gaze. “But you’re exactly right, lass. That is what I said. And it’s the ever-lovin’ truth: I know everything there is to know about you and that man of yours. Far more than you know yourself.”