“Where am I?” he asked, his voice cracking from thirst.
She avoided his question and handed him the cup, making sure he took it with two hands.
“Where am I?” he asked again, this time in Japanese. Still she didn’t answer.
Resigned to her silence, he raised his head and took a sip of the hot liquid. It was some sort of tea and it warmed him instantly, soothing his dry mouth and throat.
He handed it back to her and she set it onto the tray. “Who are you?”
Instead of answering, she spooned up what looked like soup and set it against his lips. He opened his mouth and she fed him. Spoonful after spoonful, she ladled the soup into his mouth until the bowl was empty and his stomach was blissfully full.
Fatigue washed over him and he tried to fight back a yawn, but it was no use. His eyelids drooped, and he wanted nothing but to sleep. He fought it, wanting, needing, answers instead.
“Why won’t you answer me?” he demanded. “Where am I? I deserve an answer.”
She looked at him then. It was brief but he saw something there in her gaze. Sympathy maybe? Regret?
Before he could ponder it further, she gathered the tray in her arms and started for the door.
“Wait! Please tell me something. Anything.”
But she didn’t. Without a word, or a second glance, she went through the door and closed it firmly behind her. He was alone again.
Another rush of fatigue surged over him, and he struggled to keep his eyes open. Biting down on his tongue he tried to stay awake. But it was no use. The pull of sleep lulled him under. Slowly, slowly he slipped into the black folds and dreamed of dancing snowflakes in blue.
Chapter 3
H e was floating on an iceberg in the middle of the ice sea shelf off the coast of Hokkaido. The strange thing about that was his na**dness.
But he wasn’t cold.
He actually felt right at home, standing on the floating ice, gazing out across the vast ocean. He’d always been at home in the cold. There was nothing he liked more than to go snowshoeing after a fresh snowfall or go spelunking in British Columbia at the Columbia Icefield. He’d been born in a winter month and had always felt at home in its grasp.
This wasn’t home, though. This was odd and strange and definitely not real.
A dream maybe. A wild, strange dream. Like the ones he’d been having lately since coming to Japan.
Before Darien could figure out what was happening, another iceberg floated up next to his. On it stood a beautiful Japanese woman in a blue kimono. She was exquisite, and he couldn’t take his eyes off her.
It was her, the ice maiden from the myth. It was Koori-Onna.
She smiled at him, and he felt every bone in his body melt at the sight. She was stunning. Like the first snowflake of the winter season, perfect in its construction and unique. Every snowflake was an original.
Like her.
When she looked upon him, he became very aware of his state of undress. Her gaze was heated, and he reacted like any hot-blooded male would.
He hardened instantly, his heart fluttering and stomach clenching at the possibility of being with her. If only they weren’t floating on icebergs in the middle of the frigid ocean. Why couldn’t they have been floating on soft, cushiony beds?
Stranger things had happened—especially in his dreams of late.
As she floated toward him, she slowly undid her kimono and let it slide off her body. She was perfect underneath. High small br**sts, the tips painted a delicate rose color, flat belly and a soft flare of hips. The light sprinkling of hair between her thighs was as dark as the mass of shiny ebony hair on her head. Her skin was as pale as moonlight and looked as soft as cream-colored silk.
She raised her hand toward him. “Darien. Come to me. I am yours.”
He didn’t hesitate. With one giant step, he crossed the threshold separating them. The iceberg didn’t even wobble as he stepped onto it. Without a word, Darien gathered her into his arms.
She fit perfectly against his chest, the top of her head touching the bottom of his chin. She smelled like rain and cool winter breezes. Burying his face into her hair, he inhaled her scent, reveling in her.
She reached down between them and grasped his c*ck in the slim, silky palm of her hand. Darien groaned loudly and ground his teeth as she stroked the length of him. It was all he could do to keep on his feet as she caressed him up and down, up and down. He didn’t know it was possible, but he hardened even more. It was almost painful.
She continued to stroke him until he thought he’d go insane. Burying his hands in the silk of her hair, he crushed his mouth to hers, sweeping his tongue between her lips to taste her. She was as cool as mint.
He wanted her. He ached for her. Nothing in his life had ever made him feel this wanton, this lusty. It raged inside him like a caged beast. And he desperately wanted to unleash it. Onto her, into her.
Running his hands down her back, he gripped her around her buttocks and picked her up, to brace her against the icy wall of the berg. He couldn’t wait any longer. He had to have her. Without ceremony, he parted her legs with his knee and entered her with one swift thrust.
She cried out and dug her nails into his back.
Koori sat up in bed. Sweat actually dotted her upper lip and the back of her neck. She hadn’t experienced that sensation in more years than she could count. She swung her legs around the bed and stood.
Her sleep was ruined now. There was no way she could go back. The dream had been powerful, and vivid. She shivered, remembering the feel of his wide, hard hands on her body. Even now, there was a throb between her thighs.
She was surprised to feel it. Desire was not something she felt often. Or at least not in the last millennia.
Standing, she slipped on her kimono and left her bedroom. She walked to the frozen fireplace and poured from the pot of green tea sitting on the mantel as it was every time she woke, likely deposited there by an unseen servant while she slept.
As she sipped from the cup, she gazed across the expanse of her chamber. It would’ve been beautiful if it hadn’t been her prison for so long. Now she didn’t see beauty, only shackles.
While she drank, relaxing her body, she thought of the golden-haired man she’d brought to her home. Maybe it had been a bad idea to do so. She didn’t want or need the dreams he’d been inducing. She’d gone on long enough without conflicted emotions that having them now was only a lesson in futility.
Maybe she should go to him now and just end it. She could dispose of him while he slept and he’d never be aware of it. Theoretically he should be dead anyway. That had been her mission when the phantom door had opened to her and she had been compelled to walk to the road. Her goal had been simple. To ferry him from this world to the next. To give him the kiss of death.
But something had stayed her. It might’ve been the look in his eyes or the words that he had uttered. Words she hadn’t ever heard before, and he had whispered them to her as if he had truly meant them.
No. She shook her head. He was more trouble than he was worth. She should end it now before it became worse. Before the magic of this place lashed out at her and punished her even more for what she’d done.
She’d had enough of the punishments. She didn’t think she could endure them any longer.
Setting her tea down on the table, she decided she’d go to the room she’d put the sleeping man in and end it. Nothing good could come of it. She’d been a fool to spare his life and bring him here.
What could he possibly do for her? Nothing. He wasn’t going to be her savior. There was no such thing. At least not for her.
Chapter 4
K oori watched him sleep from the edge of the bed. Darien, the light-skinned man that had come out of the snow and spoken to her. At first she had come to his room to send him to the next world. But again her hand was stayed. She couldn’t do it. Now that he was here in her care, she couldn’t ferry him on.
Now she was back in his room watching him. For the last two days and nights, he had slipped in and out of consciousness, babbling on about a snowstorm and a woman in blue.
She assumed he was talking about her.
Groaning, he shifted on the bed, his face grimacing as if in pain. She moved alongside the bed. Hand shaking, she touched his rugged cheek. His skin was hot, slick with sweat. She moved her fingers over him up to his forehead which was also warm and moist. He was definitely fighting a fever.
“Mizu,” she called out.
Within seconds, a servant woman made entirely out of ice shuffled into the room carrying a medium-sized crystal bowl full of water. The servant handed it to Koori then shuffled back out of the room from where she had come from.
A cloth floated in the water. Koori wrung it out and set it on Darien’s forehead. He moaned as she pressed it against his skin. She watched his mouth as he mumbled. He had sensual lips, full and soft.
When she had kissed him, it had been pleasant. For the first time in so long, she had enjoyed the ceremony of giving the kiss of death.
Why she had spared this particular man’s life, she still didn’t know. It was a puzzle to her and one she hoped to figure out soon.
I’m yours, forever.
His words still haunted her thoughts. Not one of the plethora of men and women she’d encountered over the years had ever come to her willingly. He had been the first.
By having him here in her home—prison really—she was breaking the laws of the curse that had been laid on her. She just hoped he was worth the risk she was taking.
When he groaned again, she dipped the cloth in the water, wrung it out, then rubbed it over his cheeks and down to his neck. Water dripped down and wet the ends of the tawny-colored hair that curled around his ears. She liked the golden color of his hair, the way it almost glowed in the light. Feeling brave, she ran her fingers through his soft waves, reveling in the feel of it on her skin.
He responded to her touch. The corners of his mouth twitched up. Not only did the reaction surprise her, but it pleased her as well. A warmth she hadn’t felt in a thousand years started to swell in her belly. She’d almost forgotten what that feeling was.
Wanting that sensation to grow, she continued to wet the cloth and run it over his face and neck. Each time, he moaned or moved his head with her touch. And soon her hesitant touches turned to gentle caresses, with pleasure in mind more than healing.