Taken by Surprise Page 12

  “He didn’t spend much time in here,” she told Talan. “He kept his clothes hung in the laundry room, and all of his personal possessions downstairs.”

  “Typical Builder sleeping quarters.”

  “Really?” she asked as they moved down the hall to her room. “They all are like Dad?”

  He walked into her room and came to a dead stop. “Apparently not all of them.”

  Her space was a mess of color and texture. Clothing, scarves and jewelry hung from every possible place she could find. The walls were painted in a patchwork of reds and golds, but it hardly mattered what color she’d picked, because nearly every inch was lined with something.

  Shelves, pictures, scraps of leather and fur, drawings she’d made of intricate patterns that popped into her head. Now that she saw it through Talan’s eyes, it all came together in a collage of nearly blinding color.

  “You sleep here?” he asked, as if he couldn’t imagine such a thing.

  “Yeah. So?”

  “It’s… pretty. Busy, but pretty.”

  “I like to be surrounded with color. It stimulates me.”

  A hot look of male interest crossed his face as he turned to stare at her. “I’ll remember that.”

  Zoe’s mouth went dry as a knot of longing tightened in her belly. She kept trying to remember why she wasn’t supposed to be attracted to this man, but when he looked at her like that, she couldn’t think of a single reason. All she could do was stare up at him, wondering if she could get close enough to him to kiss his mouth without climbing up his body.

  All she needed was a little boost, and she knew exactly how well his hand fit cupped around her butt, holding her at the perfect level for her to reach his mouth.

  “If you keep looking at me like that,” he said, “I’m going to toss you on that bed and claim you.”

  “Claim me?” she asked, a bit breathless.

  His response was slow and edged with thinly-held control. “Strip you naked, push my cock inside of you, and stroke you deeper than any human ever could. For hours.”

  Her mind went into total meltdown, and her whole body began the long, languid fall into surrender. Words were beyond her, and she swayed toward him, nearly losing her balance.

  Talan gripped her upper arms to steady her. “You’ve never had an Imonite lover before, have you?”

  She unlocked her muscles just enough to shake her head.

  “We like to take our time.” He dragged the back of one finger along her cheek so lightly, she wanted to beg for deeper contact. “And that’s something we don’t have right now.”

  As her overheated mind began to catch up with his words, she realized that he wasn’t going to follow through on his tantalizing threats.

  He took a small step back, holding her just enough so that she kept her balance.

  Balance.

  Damn it. She kept forgetting what she was supposed to be doing. How would her father feel if he knew she was fooling around with some sexy stranger when she was supposed to be solving the riddle he’d spent his last breath giving her?

  That thought gave her enough strength to turn her back on Talan and walk out into the hall. “If you find what you’re looking for, let me know. I’ll be out here.” Cooling down.

  A few minutes later, he came out empty handed. His cheeks were stained a deep, aroused red, and the bulge in his jeans was more than a little impressive, but she could tell by his expression that he hadn’t found anything useful.

  “Did you check my panty drawer?” she asked, grinning in an effort to lighten the mood.

  “Twice. Just to be sure. I particularly like the blue ones.”

  And just like that, blue became her new favorite color.

  The search of the rest of the house was more of the same. Until he came across her father’s clay sculptures.

  One look at his face and she knew his intent.

  “I’m sorry,” he said, holding the freeform loops formed by her father’s hands. “The rest are too small to hold what I seek, but this one…”

  “Just do it,” she said. “Outside. I can’t see it happen.”

  Talan nodded and went out the back door. Zoe sat on the couch and tried not to cry as he smashed her father’s work to bits.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Talan held the earthen sculpture over his head and paused, unable to follow through the simple motion of slamming it onto the section of concrete he’d cleared of snow.

  He’d left the door open just enough that he could keep Zoe in sight, and through that small gap, he saw her slender body shaking with dread. Her hands were pressed hard against her ears to block out the sound of shattering clay. She didn’t face him, as if she couldn’t bear to watch him destroy the sculpture.

  Talan lowered it and stared at it in the yellow light cast by the nearby globe. Thick ribbons of painted clay looped around in a seemingly chaotic fashion. Each one curled up from the heavy base, intertwining with the others so the eye followed the swirling lines. Not only was it beautiful, it was also intriguing, as if some kind of puzzle lay just beyond the surface. As he stared at it, he could almost see a solution to the knotted ribbons—one that would free them all from their entanglement.

  Etched into the surface were marks left by the ridges of the Builder’s fingertips. Shiny paint coated the surface, making the fingerprints clearly visible.

  Zoe’s father’s fingerprints.

  How could Talan shatter something so precious to her? And how could he not, when the data sphere might well be encased in the thick clay at the base of the statue?

  He glanced again at Zoe. She stood still and tense, doing what little she could to protect herself from Talan’s actions.

  He couldn’t do it. He couldn’t hurt her like that. As much as he tried to convince himself that it was only because he needed her trust, he knew there was more to it than that.

  She was kind. She suffered in order to save the life of a human child. She was about to lose everything she’d worked to build here on this world, and while Talan was a destroyer, he simply couldn’t bring himself to destroy something she held so dear.

  He walked back into the house and quietly closed the door behind him. He set the sculpture aside and went to where Zoe stood, vibrating with tension.

  She still had her ears covered and couldn’t hear his approach. His fingers settled lightly on her shoulder so he wouldn’t startle her. At his touch, her whole body clenched as if he’d hurt her. Slowly, she turned around, letting her arms fall.

  He was too close to her, but he couldn’t bring himself to back away. Not when she was hurting like this.

  Her eyes were luminous with unshed tears. “Did you find it?”

  “No.” He pointed to where the sculpture sat on a table nearby. “I’ll find another way.”

  Her dark brows lifted in surprise, and she flung herself at him, wrapping her arms around his neck.

  Talan absorbed the impact of her body, and gave in to the urge to touch her. She whispered fervent words of relieved thanks into his neck. He barely understood their meaning. His whole being was focused on the feel of her lips moving over his skin.

  She hadn’t meant it to be a kiss, but to him, it felt like one. His blood heated accordingly, and his heart picked up speed in an effort to clear his mind.

  The intoxicating, womanly scent of her went straight to his head. He could count on one hand the number of times he’d been dizzy in his life, and that number had just gone up by one.

  He clung to her, focusing on his breathing, trying to remember that her offer of thanks was not an offer for more. The roar of blood in his ears made it hard to focus on her words. All he was left with was the way her curvy body rubbed against his, the way her mouth kept moving along his throat.

  If he’d known that not smashing a bit of clay would have created this kind of response, he would have threatened to smash a whole lot more.

  Finally her grip loosened and she eased back to look up at him. The tip of he
r nose was red. A watery smile curved her lips. She was staring at him with an air of expectation, as if waiting for his response.

  “What?” he managed to shove out through his constricted throat.

  “Will an x-ray hurt the sphere? We could look inside the sculpture to see if it’s there. I bet would could find a place that would x-ray it if we gave them enough money.”

  Talan had no idea what she was saying. He understood most of her words, but their meaning as a whole was completely lost. “I will send it back through the window. Our people can search for the sphere.”

  “Without breaking it?”

  He nodded, and her face lit up with relieved happiness.

  Talan had never wanted to kiss a woman more than he wanted to kiss Zoe in this moment. The trust shining in her eyes was simply breathtaking. And the feel of her lithe body so close to his gave him the oddest need to both protect and claim her. But he couldn’t do both.

  If he claimed her, he was putting her at risk. Krotian would find them here. It was only a matter of when. Every moment they spent here was putting her closer to danger. And once he got her naked, he was going to keep her that way for as long as he could.

  “Is there anything else I should see before we leave?” he asked.

  Zoe’s open expression clamped shut and her gaze slipped away.

  “What are you hiding?”

  “Nothing. We just need to check his office.”

  “Then let’s do so.”

  “I will show you. I promise. I just need a minute.”

  “Krotian will come. It’s a matter of when, not if.”

  She pulled free of his arms and walked away from him. The sudden feeling of loss and emptiness surprised him, leaving him standing there, watching her leave.

  “I realize the danger,” she said. “But I’ve been through more than just a little tonight and I need a minute to prepare myself.”

  “For what?”

  She ignored his question and sat on the couch, sipping her tea and staring up at the mosaic mural over the mantle. Another of her father’s works. “He was a gifted man.”

  “He was,” Talan agreed.

  Firelight glittered in her eyes and danced along her skin. He had thought she was pretty from the second he’d seen her, but now, here, bathed in firelight, she was beautiful. Breathtaking.

  “I really miss him,” she said.

  There was nothing Talan could say to that. All he could do was offer her physical comfort, and he knew that if he embraced her again, he was taking the risk of forgetting where he was and the risks they faced by staying here.

  She turned and looked at him, and the sadness lingering in her eyes was enough to bring out his urge to kill. He wanted to slay whatever had upset her, destroying it so utterly that it could never make her sad again.

  Another bit of proof that his family’s Builder’s blood had skipped him completely.

  “This is the last time I’ll ever see my home, isn’t it?” she asked.

  Talan respected her enough to give her the truth. “Yes.”

  She patted the cushion next to her. “Then come and sit with me. I want to enjoy the fire for a little while before walking away forever.”

  There wasn’t time for such sentimentality, but Talan found himself obeying her request anyway, crossing the space to where she sat. He lowered himself to the couch.

  His weight shifted her body, making it brush up against him. He should have scooted over to give her more space, but he liked touching her. As soon as they returned, he’d probably never see her again. And like her, he felt the need to soak up a good thing before it was gone forever.

  She settled against him, curling her legs under her. “What’s it like there?”

  Her scent reached for him and pulled him in, making every cell in his body stand up at attention. It took him a moment to think clearly enough to answer her question. “Parts of Loriah are still lovely. Untouched by war. Protected. I’ll do what I can to make sure you’re stationed in one of those areas.”

  “Are the people nice?”

  “The Builders are like you. Curious, driven. You will have warriors nearby for protection, but we try not to get in your way.”

  She frowned at him. “Why would you be in the way?”

  He didn’t know how to answer her question without giving away that she wasn’t supposed to be alone with him like this. Warriors and Builders didn’t intermingle. At least not without consequences.

  Once she was back on Imonite land, she’d learn that their worlds were not designed to intersect in any meaningful way. She’d take her place among her own kind, and he’d come back here to find more of the Taken. Life would go on as it was meant to.

  “You know,” he hedged. “Big, clumsy hands. Loud, violent games. Those things don’t exactly fit in with the serene life of a Builder.”

  “Serene? Sounds more like boring to me.”

  “I think peaceful is a better word.”

  “With a war going on?”

  “Like I said, we try to protect the Builders from all of that. You’re our best hope at defeating the Raide permanently.”

  “Gee. No pressure or anything.”

  “We have to pressure you. There’s no other way. If one of you doesn’t come up with a means to defeat the Raide soon, our people will be destroyed. It wouldn’t surprise me at all if that Builder—our savior—was you.”

  Chapter Seventeen

  Zoe wasn’t sure what Talan thought she was, but he made it sound like he believed she was capable of saving an entire planet.

  What a joke that was. She could hardly go a day without losing her phone, and some nights she completely forgot to go home. She’d simply look up from whatever she’d been working on and see that the sun had already come up again. Not only that, but she couldn’t picture herself creating weapons. Defenses? Sure. Gadgets? Absolutely. But her father had been the one with a knack for weaponry. He’d even given her a box filled with a few of her very own, warning her that she needed to practice.

  As the thought crossed her mind, she realized that maybe the box was a clue. She’d tossed it in her purse before leaving the shop, and it was still there.

  She jumped from the couch and grabbed the box.

  “What is that?” Talan asked.

  “My dad made it for me. I thought it might give us some idea what the riddle means.”

  “Can I see it?”

  Zoe handed him the box and sat down next to him, as close as she could get without appearing clingy.

  He traced a thick, blunt finger over a line of symbols. “This is Builders’ script.”

  “What does it say?”

  “I don’t know. Only true Builders are allowed to learn it.”

  “It looks like what’s on your head.”

  Talan’s jaw clenched and his mouth tightened. “It is.”

  “But you can’t read it? Why did you get a tattoo you can’t read? How do you even know what it says?”

  “It’s not my place to know. As soon as it was determined that I was not a Builder, I was marked.”

  “But why?”

  Anger brightened his eyes, making their pale green glow. “I’m descended from a line of Builders. These marks are a recording of their accomplishments and creations. They contain knowledge, formulas, recipes, designs.”

  “What good does that do you if you can’t read them?”

  “The information is not here for me. It’s here for other Builders, and in case of the rare possibility that my Builder blood may be passed to my children.”

  “You’re a walking textbook?”

  “It’s the only way I can contribute to my people. All failed Builders are marked in the same way so that they might share what they should have been able to teach to those younger than them.”

  “So because you’re not able to talk about this stuff, you have to let people read it on your skin?”

  “Yes.”

  “What if someone translates the language and s
teals your family secrets?”

  “They wouldn’t have trusted my skin with anything dangerous. It was obvious from the time I was young that I would join the warriors. My guess is that what’s inked onto my body is a list of vital information that would allow a Builder to create basic, lifesaving potions should that knowledge be destroyed in the war. Things like the liquid skin that stopped your bleeding, and the fluid I drink when there is no time to rest and I need to keep fighting.”

  “So… not secrets, but things that your people use to survive.”

  “Exactly.”

  She stared at his head, and as she did, a few words became clear. She still couldn’t read everything, but there was a familiarity there, like maybe she could figure it out if she got enough time.

  Sadly, time was not something they had much of right now.

  “Did your father teach you Builders’ script?”

  “Not much. He said there would be plenty of time for that after we returned. I picked up a little, but it’s a complex language.”

  He nodded. “I can only imagine. So how do you open the box?”

  “There’s a trick to it.” She ran her fingers over the intricate surface, remembering the hours she and her father had spent building it. From the outside it looked only like an elaborate jewelry box, but she knew better. The design was one of her father’s, a puzzle too complex for anyone to open accidentally. Someone could smash it open, but that was the only way to get in without knowing the key.

  Zoe spun the filigree ornament on the top, pressing in several sections of detailed carvings at once. She inserted her thumb into the shallow recess along the bottom and blew a warm breath over the keyhole until it made a high, flutelike sound.

  Once the pitch was perfect, the box popped open. Inside the velvet-lined compartments sat several metallic pieces—an accumulation of her father’s decades of skill and patience. Even just glancing in the box, she could tell instantly which of the various pieces he’d built and which ones she’d fumbled together under his tutelage.