Tayla Hampton’s heart suddenly began to thump so loudly that the sound echoed in her ears. The student log she’d been engrossed in blurred; her eyes refused to focus on the Excel document. She squinted, to no avail; the lettering twisted into swirling black lines. Panic soared through her, an ugly trait she’d learned to push away and shove into its corner where it belonged. Her life was her own, her destiny sealed by her actions. Nothing and no one would ever dictate her decisions again.
With fierce determination she rose from her chair, circled the desk and stood at the floor to ceiling windows of her office. The view was breathtaking. Mountains stretched endlessly before creating a seamless connection with the sky. Thousands of feet below, the Snake River churned tons of water into the Columbia with careless fervor. It was heaven, her sanctuary from the world that had disappointed her.
Years ago she’d met a man and fallen in love. He was supposed to be her protector, her lover, her friend. Instead he’d introduced her to a world of lies and manipulation. She’d lived that way for as long as she could. And then she’d escaped.
She’d come here two years ago, on the run, seeking shelter in the solitude of Grayson Moore Academy, a private elementary school nestled deep within the Blue Mountains of Washington. She was a city girl, born and bred, so nobody would ever think to look for her here.
Every now and then she wondered if he’d found her, though she’d taken great care to get lost and stay lost. She’d changed her last name, her physical appearance, her occupation. Everything she was now was drastically different from what she had been when she was with him. It had been two years since she’d left, and now fear—no, not exactly—foreboding snaked up her spine, wrapping around her neck until she felt her throat tightening, her breath slipping slowly from her.
Then there was a knock at the door.
Had she been a foot closer she would have jumped through the high, clear-paned windows. A hand to her throat, she turned to the closed door, wondering who or what stood on the other side.
They wouldn’t find her. They couldn’t. They probably wouldn’t look. But she knew that last thought was a lie. The Raniers were a strong and influential family. They didn’t take kindly to anyone betraying them or leaving their fold. And she had done just that. She’d packed her bags, filed for divorce and tried her damnedest to leave that family and their evil nature behind.
Finally she decided that Jerome was not the one at the door. He would never believe she’d be content here. After all, he presumed to know what was best for her.
Shedding the fear, she commanded her legs to move toward the thick oak door with its intricate moldings. Her hand reached for the once-gold knob, turned it and then wrenched the heavy door open.
* * *
He’d smelled her. It was the scent of mating, the odor of sex, pure and simple. And while Thaddeus was keenly aware of his duty and purpose in coming to Grayson Moore Academy, that didn’t keep the baser instincts from prickling at him. With each breath he felt her seeping inside, filling the holes and gaps left from a lonely existence far away. This was his life’s destiny—his final assignment.
His feet ached a bit in these shoes that shined beneath the lighted ceiling. The dress pants hung over his muscled thighs like the smooth sheets back home. He’d grown accustomed to the restricting buttons of the shirt, the tight knot of the tie, and no longer pulled at the garments with distaste.
It was imperative for everyone’s safety that he fit in. But when the time came, his appearance, his purpose, would be revealed.
He’d prepared himself for this task, just as he had for the others, speaking the language repeatedly until his accent had all but vanished. They’d sent him to save her even though it was against his very being, against the legend of his kind. But that was only half of who he was. Danger was coming, and he would be there to meet it head-on, to give life a chance to renew, to rejuvenate. It was his duty.
They preyed on her, had for some time now. He was not allowed the details, only told that she could not die. And that was enough.
She was fretful, and as strong as her mating call to him was, he sensed something beneath it, something primal that honed in on him specifically. Yet he didn’t have time to give it further thought. Giving her a moment to regain the control he knew she possessed, he stood at the door, waiting.
Instead, he felt despair and worry clawing at her, pushing against the protective barrier she’d raised, barking intensely. He knocked. Disturbing whatever it was that haunted her with a simple act saved her.
He was used to beauty, had seen it for years in many shapes and forms. It did not faze him. A pretty face, an awesome aura—none of it had any impact on him.
Yet this tall woman, with her curvaceous form, glistening golden eyes, hair long and flowing like flames, lips plump and kissable, irrefutably stirred something he’d thought long dead. That both confused and angered him. But he would not let that show.
Her hand hovered over the knob as she assessed him in one long sweep.
“Thaddeus Delos.” He stepped into the office, uninvited yet arrogantly sure of his place, brushing lightly past her on his way. “I am the new history teacher.”
He was at her desk, his backside resting against the massive oak, arms crossed, watching her when she turned.
A handsome face did nothing for her—not anymore—since that was what had gotten her into trouble the first time. She closed the office door and took a couple of steps until she was standing directly in front of him. “Tayla Hampton. I thought you were arriving tomorrow.”
No, she wasn’t affected by the sharp curve of his jaw, the chiseled outline of his chest, the scent…what was that? It wasn’t cologne, and not the natural scent of masculinity. It was something different, something simple yet unique.
The sea, she thought instantly. He smelled like the sea.
So what? That didn’t matter either. He was just a man, and all men were liars.
Then he tilted his head, his eyes dark for a moment, then luminescent with a spark of crimson. His long, dark dreads were pulled back from his face. He had a different, foreign look that intrigued her. He was a big man, more than six feet tall and wide like a linebacker. He looked wild and untamed, although his clothes were neat and stylish.
Over his shoulder outside the window the sky, a few moments earlier serene, was now an angry gray as it grew turbulent with clouds heavy with rain.
“I was needed tonight,” he stated simply.
Needed. That word struck a chord.
“No. Actually, I distinctly remember telling you Monday was fine.” Her heart rapped against her chest, but she refused to move. Although he was quite formidable, and a virtual stranger, he wasn’t making her nervous. She refused to allow that.
Thaddeus heard her speaking, watched the way her deep blue skirt floated around her legs like tiny ripples on a stream. She wasn’t what he’d expected, and then again she was. He’d sensed something exceptional about her but had tried to dismiss it. Now, face to face, he knew that Tayla Hampton would not easily be dismissed. Her eyes were intriguing, pulling him in. The smooth skin of her cheeks, framed by the flame-colored hair, appealed to him on a level he’d yet to acknowledge. He didn’t think twice, simply reached out, and twisted strands of her hair around his fingers. “Like fire,” he mumbled. “The exact color of fire.”
She frowned and moved, just barely, out of his reach. To move too far, too fast, would show that he’d gotten to her, that she was leery or afraid. She was neither. “I am the principal of Grayson Moore Academy. I have three hundred students and fifty-five staff members. I run a pretty tight ship around here, and at no time is touching allowed.” She said the last pointedly, her words crisp in the intensely warm atmosphere.
He smiled.
Her fists tightened at her sides. She was not affected by that smile.
“I’ll get your keys and show you to your room. You can fill out all the appropriate paperwork tomorrow.”
Moving to the other side of her desk, Tayla fought off the salt-water aroma attempting to seep into her system. Retrieving the keys from her drawer, she looked up, finding herself only inches away from the source of that enthralling scent and the owner of that smile.
He closed a hand over hers, transferring the key into his palm. “Where I come from fire is used to cleanse, to purify.” He held on to her hand, giving a little pull. “I am ready to see my room.”
Tayla couldn’t ignore the heat shooting from where their palms met up her arms and down through her chest. Heat that spread from his body to hers stinging through her bloodstream. Her body tensed. It was weird, this feeling she was experiencing. It was new and indescribable, but it was definitely there, something that touched her beyond the physical, beyond the clasping of their hands. It reached deep, planting itself firmly inside her body, making itself at home.
That was insane.
She pulled her hand away from his and walked out of the room, not turning back to see if he followed because she knew that he did. He moved quietly, no sound of shoes clicking on the marbled floors, no breathing, no rush of clothing. But she felt his presence as if he’d always been there.
The staff quarters were in a separate building of the mountaintop estate. It was Sunday, and nearing seven-thirty, so the students were already in their dorms for the night. Tayla led him through long, high-ceilinged hallways, down winding stairs and through the massive front doors of Grayson Moore.
Once outside she inhaled the crisp autumn breeze, tilting her head to survey the dark heavy clouds above. “There’ll be a storm soon,” she announced.
“That is why I am here.”
Her head snapped around. His voice was deep, resonating through her with a low hum. His English was stilted, as if it were a secondary language. He looked even darker here out in the open with the mountaintop backdrop. His fierce eyes glared at her and she hurriedly looked away. Pursing her lips, she decided to ignore his strange remark. There was much she wanted to ignore about this man. The sooner she got him to his room, the better.
Thaddeus followed along the wide path through a thin strand of trees. He could have taken himself to his room. He already knew where it was. He’d walked these grounds and the miles surrounding them, familiarizing himself with his surroundings. To protect her he would need to be aware of everything between her and her hunter.
She walked quickly, like a woman used to the rough terrain of twigs and rocks and dirt. Once she stumbled, probably from walking so fast and her growing apprehension about him. He reached out, grabbed her arms, held her steady. The moment she was stable she pulled away, distrust pooling in those sparkling eyes.
She was a mortal. He’d never before seen a mortal with eyes that color. Like small pieces of topaz, they glittered and simmered, giving away all of her secrets, most of them at least. She definitely did not want to be around him. An ordinary man might be offended by that, but he was no ordinary man.
Through the clearing a single level structure came into sight. Doors with numbers on them were the only traces that this rectangular building was not one unit. He knew that his was number ten, but followed her lead. Somehow he sensed that she would not be pleased by the fact that he’d toured the grounds without her. He would not like being enclosed in this small place but would have to make do for now.
He’d touched her again, after she’d told him there was to be no touching. She wanted to fire him, to tell him he was being dismissed for insubordination, but knew that would have been a lie and it would be cowardly. The fact that she hadn’t been this close to an attractive man in two years had nothing to do with school business. Besides, she needed a history teacher desperately or her fifth graders would leave here next year not knowing a thing about the world. The one thing she knew was that she would be keeping a safe distance from Mr. Delos and his intoxicating smell.
She’d kept her back to him all the way over here and, thankfully, with a few more steps she’d see him in and be on her way. She wouldn’t have to deal with him again until tomorrow. Tomorrow classes would start. She’d have a few minutes with him to go over his paperwork and then he’d be on his way, and out of hers.
She was so busy with her own thoughts, walking so assuredly toward unit number ten that she forgot one of the first rules of living at nature’s mercy: pay attention. Before her foot could land with another step she heard the hissing and froze.
Thaddeus, who was only two steps behind her, heard the sound as well. His eyes fell to the ground, where a three-foot long snake slithered into their path. He’d seen firsthand the deadliness of these creatures and hurried to Tayla’s side, pushing her behind him.
“Wait—” She tried to speak but his broad back blocked her view. His thick arm reached backward around her waist so that she remained still.
With his free hand Thaddeus reached for the weapon sheathed at his hip. His fingers warmed around the hilt, power seeping through his body.
Tayla squirmed until she was rid of his hold, only to be stopped again by the sight before her. Her new history teacher stood, legs spread slightly apart, with bulging muscles that she would swear had grown since she’d first glimpsed him in her office. His hands were at his sides, one holding something…something that glowed in the growing dark of night.
The intense purple and gold brightness coming from that thing he held in his hand spread around him, outlining his huge form. Her mouth opened, then closed abruptly. It was the air, the mountain mist playing tricks on her. She’d lived in this virtual wilderness long enough to know that sometimes things weren’t always as they appeared.
In the distance she heard a rustling of bushes. Her head turned in that direction and she spied the culprit. Before going in that direction she turned back to the history teacher whose arm was now raised, that shining thing sparkling as the wind around them picked up, whipping his hair and the leaves around him in the process. She shivered once, then took a step closer, lifting a hand to his shoulder.
The heat emanating from him was intense, scorching her fingers before she could even touch him. With a yelp she jumped back, starring down at her scorched palm. “Mr. Delos!” she screamed just as he took a step toward the snake.
Through the flurry of emotion Thaddeus heard her voice, heard the high feminine pitch laced with fear and turned, lowering his weapon. When he faced her, her look of sheer shock attacked his senses. He had made a mistake. He felt the heat, the warm familiar sensation of it on his neck, down his back, and knew she did not understand.
He would explain. Rather, he would make something up so that she would understand. Thaddeus cursed to himself, put his weapon back into his belt and waited while his body cooled. He’d overreacted. In his haste to protect her he’d acted without thinking, possibly blowing his cover before he’d had a chance to defuse the problem he’d come to handle.
He attributed his impulsive act to the shifting of his insides, the unmistakable feeling of making himself available to emotions, emotions that were too dangerous to contemplate. But that was what this woman incited in him. He could not explain why, and would have to reserve that thinking for a later time.
But first he needed to take care of that snake before it hurt her. Suddenly a small person appeared a few feet away, curious eyes wide and alert.
“I…I’m…ah…sorry, Ms. Hampton.” Montepelier Sturdivant, Monty for short, stood at the rim of the trees watching the adults in awe.
Tayla finally managed to tear her eyes away from her hand and the strange man standing before her to look at one of her more mischievous students. “Come here, Monty.” She rubbed her palms together to soothe the now mild burning.
Little feet shuffled through the fallen leaves and twigs. Around him the sky darkened even more, giving him a vulnerable appearance.
“How many times have I told you about keeping Igor in his cage? Some people in the school are afraid of snakes,” she said, casting a pointed look at the history teacher.
Monty shifted from one tennis shoe to the other. “Um…You’ve told me a lot of times.” Nervously he looked at the stranger. “Sorry.”
Thaddeus, who had been watching the stern but compassionate way Ms. Hampton handled the child, now shifted his attention to the small boy with the dark skin. His hair was cut close to his head, and his eyes, still huge with disbelief as they stared up at him, were like lumps of coal.
Turning, Thaddeus scooped up the still hissing creature and carried it to the boy. Lowering himself to one knee he placed his free hand on the boy’s shoulder. “What’s your name?”
“Ah, Monty. I mean, Montepelier,” he stammered.
Thaddeus smiled. “Well, Monty. You should put…Igor, is it?…back into his tank. He might get hurt out here.” He handed the boy the snake and watched as he stuffed it into the inside of his jacket.
“Thanks.”
“I’m Mr. Delos, the new history teacher. I guess I’ll be seeing you around.” He didn’t know what to say about the other thing, didn’t want to give too much away if the boy hadn’t really seen anything.
Monty nodded.
While this scene was very quaint, albeit weird as hell, Tayla was tired. She wanted nothing more than to get Mr. Delos settled and see that Monty was sent off to his room. Then she’d go back to her cabin and convince herself she hadn’t seen what was impossible for a person to see. “Okay, Monty. Go on to your room now. Classes start early tomorrow morning, and you need your rest.”
Monty gave Thaddeus a tentative smile before looking at Tayla. “Yes, Ms. Hampton.”
He scurried down the path to the tall stone building that housed all of Grayson’s students.
Thaddeus sensed her distress, and though he felt an overwhelming urge to ease it, he reminded himself that this was a job. His last job. He knew the importance and could not lose sight of the results required by the elders. “Let me see your hand.” He said when he moved closer to her.
Quickly, defensively, Tayla thrust her hands behind her back. “No!” The single word came out a little more forcefully than she’d intended, but she didn’t care. “Your room is that way, Mr. Delos. I’ll see you in my office no later than eight tomorrow morning. Classes start promptly at eight forty-five.” She took a few steps, intending to circle around him and head toward the direction of her cabin, but he stopped her.
Pulling her hands into his own, he looked into her eyes and again found himself sinking into her allure. “It is better now,” he whispered, although he sensed a greater oddity.
She blinked, trying to fathom his meaning. Then she felt her hands cooling. Embarrassed and unnerved, she tried to remove her hands from his. “I said no touching, Mr. Delos. If you can’t follow directions I’m not sure you’ll be a good fit here.”
He loosed his grip until her hand slipped from his but he remained close, very close, to her. Her hair blew in the light breeze, and her light cheeks flushed. She was an exquisite creature, and he felt something slipping inside a door he’d locked long ago. “Where I come from touching is a form of communication.”
He was too close, his scent permeating her senses, making her feel weird, confused, out of control. And she’d sworn she’d never be that way again. Squaring her shoulders, she lifted her palms and placed them firmly on his chest. “Then I hope this brings the message home, since you don’t seem to understand my methods of communication.” With all her might she pushed him away from her and stomped off to her cabin.
Thaddeus watched her go, impressed by her strength, amazed by her beauty.
* * *
In his room Thaddeus paced, his bare feet acclimating themselves to the strange feel of the floor. It was called carpet, he knew. Warmer than grass, he noticed that it obviously came in a variety of colors, as the floor in Tayla’s office had been darker. Come to think of it, her entire office was dark, from the deep brown bookshelves that lined the walls, to the heavy oak desk she tried to hide behind. The aura in there was definitely gloomy. He wondered briefly if her living quarters were the same.
She was very different from what he had expected, this woman he was here to protect. While her eyes gave away such passion and depth, her outer being was rigid and guarded. He suspected a dark past was the culprit. But he wasn’t here to go over her past. He was here to protect her from what was to come in the future. Danger was imminent; from miles away he’d felt the persistent anger in the clouds hovering over Grayson Moore.
What he hadn’t anticipated was the raw attraction he’d feel for this woman, this person who needed him but did not know it. In the weeks ahead they would become very close; they had to in order for her to survive. How could he remain close to her, to protect her, when his body was reacting to her in such a strange way? Not really strange, he thought, as he rounded and made another trek across the open floor. He’d felt these stirrings before, hundreds of years ago in his youth.
His home in the Cyclades, near the Aegean Sea, was filled with fair and illustrious goddesses that took pleasure in meeting a man’s every need. And for a time he’d basked in their graciousness, until it became apparent that more was expected of him. While Thaddeus secretly longed for a companion to love and cherish, it was not meant to be. Thus, for a while, he was forced to take the same stance as his father. Poseidon, the god of the sea, was known for his prowess with women, despite his marriage to Amphitrite. Thaddeus, born as a result of one of Poseidon’s many affairs, was living proof of that. Thaddeus regretted the time he’d spent walking in his father’s footsteps and now chose to steer clear of physical or romantic entanglements. It was safer that way.
Dragging a hand over his clean-shaven face, he finally sat down on the edge of the bed and began to undress. First he removed the tie and the shirt, flexing his biceps and pectorals when his chest was finally free of the bothersome material. He reached to his waist, removed his athame—his weapon of choice, his power source. Holding the heavy steel weapon in his hand he remembered what had taken place in the forest and flinched. He’d been so hell-bent on protecting her from that snake he hadn’t thought to protect her from himself—from the knowledge of who and what he really was. She’d seen him and the beginning of his transformation. And he knew she’d never understand.
“Idiot,” he murmured as he tapped the hilt of the athame to his forehead.
What was she thinking about him right now? How did she feel about what she’d seen? He’d tried to tap into her thoughts while they were in the forest but her own probing gaze had prevented that. Removing the rest of his clothes, he lay on the bed, letting the brisk night air that seemed to creep through the stone walls of his room cloak him. Closing his eyes he cleared his mind of everything except her, and just like that, she appeared as if in the room.
Her hair was long and flowed down her back like flames licking at the earth, her face, the color of the sand that lined the beaches of his home. High cheekbones, full lips and stunning eyes that stared back at him, suited her face. She wore a long gown, white, he thought. She moved gracefully, brushing her hair, smoothing some concoction on her face—he wanted to tap into her mind, to view her thoughts, but he couldn’t grasp them; the vision was blurred, interrupted.
In an instant the white gown she wore was gone, her long, toned body now naked before him. Her breasts were high and full, her waist small but not tiny; his big hands could definitely span her width, but she possessed cushioning that so many other women did not. She had strong legs, muscular thighs, and the dark triangle of hair between them called to him.
Thaddeus grasped the sheets beneath him, tried unsuccessfully to will away the image. She moved closer, coming toward him. She wet those exquisite lips and he found himself licking his own in response. With each step closer, his heart rate increased, blood pumping thick and hot through his veins, pooling at his center, lengthening his manhood.
Then she touched him and he cried out.
With sweat trickling down his forehead Thaddeus sat up quickly on the bed, his breath labored. With angry fingers he pulled the band from his locks and let them fall free.
“Dammit!”
There it was, standing before him like a mountain, the thing he’d tried for centuries to stay one step ahead of—lust for a woman.
He had to get a grip on this tumultuous emotion. It would only hamper his purpose and probably endanger her even more. If he were back home and felt this raging desire he would thrust himself into the sea, let the torrential waves beat it out of him. But as it was, he was in this modern time, this modern place and he’d have to make do. Standing, he moved toward the bathroom, maneuvered the contraptions called faucets to the coolest temperature possible before stepping inside the shower and cleansing his mind.
* * *
Tayla had just slipped on her nightgown and was now climbing under the thick comforter on her bed. She’d chastised herself for the last hour over the foolish stirrings inside her body.
Thaddeus Delos was her employee. He was here to help the children. He was not for her.
Yet there had been something between them as they stood in her office. He’d touched her hair and stared at her as if he saw something that wasn’t visible to others. He’d made her uncomfortable, something she didn’t like. She’d worked long and hard for control, traveled the span of the country just to gain it, and she wasn’t about to let it slip just for a man.
A breathtakingly beautiful man, she amended.
When he’d stepped into her office so self-assured and masculine, she’d been stupefied. He was broad, like an athlete dressed in clothes that fit him perfectly. Tayla was five feet nine but he was much taller than her, probably by almost a foot. What surprised her most about his appearance was his hair. Jerome kept his short on the sides, his natural dark curls twirling on top. But Thaddeus wore his long, in heavy, sandy brown dreads that, when released, probably fell to the center of his back—his thick, muscular back.
Tayla punched her pillows, turned to her left side and pulled the covers up to her chin. His face was hard, angled, a bronzed color like that of an islander; his eyes dark, unreadable; his lips firm but welcoming when they spread into a smile. That smile was magnificent, pulling at her like steel to a magnet, and each time he bestowed it on her she tumbled just a little bit closer. He was the history teacher, she told herself, who just so happened to be a man.
She breathed an exasperated breath and turned to the other side. In the forest he’d seemed different. Or had she simply imagined that? When they’d noticed Igor in the clearing, Thaddeus had gone from new teacher to protector, his entire demeanor changing. He’d pushed her out of the way as if a mountain lion were on the prowl. Then the physical changes had taken hold—those she still wasn’t sure she believed. Yet she’d stood there watching him as his arms bulged, the veins in his neck thickening with each breath he took. He’d reached for something at his hip and pulled it out. Was it a knife? She couldn’t quite remember, but whatever it was had lit up like a shooting star and she was sure it would have done immeasurable harm to poor little Igor had it been given a chance.
Luckily she’d stopped him, or rather the appearance of Monty had stopped him. His defensive stance had slackened then and he’d looked at her with regret. She’d reached out to touch him because she’d been compelled to do so. Something at the outer edges of his eyes had called to her and she’d obeyed. Then he’d almost burned her. She flipped over onto her back, flattening her palms on her stomach, staring up at the ceiling. That was impossible, he wasn’t on fire; how could he have burned her?
Her hand felt fine now, cool after his touch. She sighed, convinced she was being foolish. He was just a man.
A man that definitely had her complete attention tonight. Her nipples stiffened beneath her gown. She hadn’t felt sexual attraction in years. On the rare occasions she longed for something physical, an abundance of batteries and her little friend tucked discreetly in her drawer could handle it. Or, on occasion, her fingers worked just as well.
Her life was simpler without a man. And knowing what she knew now, there was really no need for one. She could take care of herself, financially, physically and even sexually. She did not need a man.
But his shoulders had looked so strong. She could almost imagine holding on to them as he rode her into an abyss of pleasure. She moaned, her fingers clenching the material of her gown at her stomach and closed her eyes. She saw that smile and wanted to trace her tongue along the line of his lips, wanted to run her fingers along his strong jaw, through his thick hair. Between her legs she began to throb. She crossed her ankles, plastered her knees together. He was probably huge all over. Though his baggy pants disguised his equipment, she had a sinking feeling it was just as exquisite as the rest of him.
Of their own accord, and because she was going to scream if they didn’t, her fingers moved south, and her legs spread slowly as she let the visions of Thaddeus Delos take control.
Just for tonight, she thought, as her other hand lifted her nightgown. I’ll only think about him tonight, and then tomorrow it’s business only.