Page 33 of Captured

Dimitri grinned. The solution was, of course, obvious. He’d always been known for his excellent ideas in the field. It was good to know that his instincts didn’t fail him while he was on leave.

He pulled the tops off the beers and headed back outside.

Lauren was sitting on one of the sling chairs, angled toward the sun. A thin crawl of clouds had surfaced on the horizon, running purple against the water. It looked more beautiful than any photograph he’d ever seen, and he’d watched tourists try to capture its magnificence a thousand times over. Some things you had to experience in person.

He handed her a beer. “Good, yes?”

“It’s pretty, I guess.” Her smile softened her sarcastic words, and when he held his beer out to her, she clinked hers against it. “What are we toasting to?”

“To the sunset. It’s enough.” Instead of taking a seat beside her in the matching swing chair, though, Dimitri folded his body to the porch, his head level with Lauren’s knees as he lounged back on one elbow. He was close enough to her body to feel her heat, sense her sudden tension. But it wasn’t the tension of a frightened woman, he thought. Simply one who was uniquely, subtly aware of him...and who maybe, just maybe, thought he was the descendent of a Greek god.

He took a long pull on his beer. He could work with that.

Nineteen

Lauren held her beer in a death grip. What was Dimitri doing? Or, more to the point, was he actually doing what shethoughthe was doing, so obviously showing his interest in her? If so, how did she feel about that?

More to the point, how did she feel about that,given that he was a freaking demigod?

There was no doubt that Emmaline believed he was. And just as Lauren’s conversation with Stefan now made more sense in light of the royal family’s entanglement with the Greek gods, the portrait she’d seen in the Andris family gallery now took on greater meaning as well. Dimitri—or someone who looked exactly like him—had been standing next to an entirely different king and queen...a king and queen from decades ago, if their clothing was any indication. It was him. She knew it was him. And if so, how old was this guy?

And did he really want to hook up with her, like he was so seriously acting like he wanted to do?

She was no stranger to the act of sex. While any sort of real relationship might have been off the table due to Henry’s particularly vicious brand of jealousy, she had needs and ran in the kind of crowd that appreciated discretion more than most.Everyone had something to lose, and anyone with half a brain in his head understood that sex was one thing, romance was another. But was that what Dimitri wanted? And was that what she wanted him to want?

Especially if he was a freakingdemigod? What exactly did thatmean, anyway?

Dimitri lounged at her side, his powerful, suntanned legs stretched out beneath his soft gray sweat shorts. He’d been exercising while she was gone, she thought, or at least walking the beach. Sand and salt crisscrossed his shins and thighs, the muscles beneath the suntanned skin now relaxed, pliant.

Lauren kept her chin up as her gaze raked his body, but there was no way the sunset could compare to the magnificent male specimen beside her. He’d topped the shorts with a loose navy-blue tank top that bore no logo or insignia, and he wore no jewelry other than a thick watch that she suspected could shoot lasers to the moon and back. His ocean wave tattoo gleamed in the dying sunlight, its detailed ink threatening to pull her under. She was more than half willing to let it.

Dimitri was earthy, vital, real...andsafe, she realized.

He was safe.

And he was a demigod.

Better still, Henry Smithson would never know the truth about this gruff, taciturn supposed captain of the ONSF, other than he’d had his hands full with a runaway American for two days or however long she was on this rock. He’d never have any reason to suspect that Dimitri had done anything with her, or to her, or…

“What are you thinking about?”

“Nothing,” she snapped, not liking the sound of her own voice. It was too breathless, too sharp. She took a drink of beer, needing the cool wash of liquid as a distraction from her own thoughts. Beside her, Dimitri lolled in the sunshine, his eyesnearly shut as he gazed out at the water. If he hadn’t spoken, she might well have believed he’d fallen asleep. But he wouldn’t have fallen asleep, right? He was as aware of her as she was of him, certainly. Men generally were, right?

Did demigods sleep? I mean, surely?—

“For nothing, it seems to be making you very upset.” Dimitri reached over, touching her calf with the back of his hand, the hand that was holding the beer. She had on long pants, so it wasn’t like he was touching her skin, but the simple contact sent all the blood shooting from her brain to pool in her belly, her mouth dropping open involuntarily before she could shut it. Of course, he couldn’t see her face, her reaction. Thank God.

Pull it together, she implored herself. But she couldn’t pull it together, it seemed. She couldn’t think of anything except having Dimitri’s arms around her, holding her close. She wanted the feel of his body against hers, the touch of his lips brushing close, the sound of his gruff, throaty words whispered in her ear.

She wantedhim. Whether he was a demigod or a simple captain or just the man sitting next to her on this porch, sharing an impossibly beautiful sunset, she wanted him, and she didn’t know how to turn that desire off. Her control was deserting her exactly when she needed it most, and?—

“You want to talk about it?” he asked, his words a low rumble, officious enough to make her think he was interrogating her. Yes. Interrogating her was exactly what he was doing. All he was doing.Focus.

“Princess?”

“I—what?” Lauren blinked as Dimitri moved with sudden, almost feline grace. One moment he was lounging carelessly by her chair, loose and easy, the next he was kneeling between her legs, his hands on either side of her chair. His dark gaze held her eyes as she gaped at him, unresisting, as he reached out and pulled her sunglasses from her face.

“What is it, Lauren?” he asked, his words barely a murmur, while behind him the ocean seemed to glow a richer, almost electric blue. He looked impossibly gorgeous, staring at her. Hot and vital and real. Not someone who was weak, not someone she needed to protect. Someone who would laugh at the very idea of needing her protection, no matter how much money she had, how much power. Perhaps he simply did want her, the way she now wanted him, the way she burned for him, if she was honest with herself. “If something is on your mind, you need to share it with me. I can’t help you otherwise.”

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