Not since he'd buried the ruined pieces of his old life and his quest to destroy Reiver began.
He brought Danika into the room and set her down on the king-size four-poster bed. The thing was a relic, only a couple hundred years younger than he was. Its headboard, canopy, and carved supports were made of tooled black walnut, its thick down mattress cloaked in creamy sheepskin coverlets and wool blankets woven in MacBain red and black. Danika looked sexy as hell in the middle of it, propped up on her elbows, one slender leg bent at the knee.
Malcolm wanted her all over again.
Still.
Her heavy-lidded gaze raked his naked body and she gave him a knowing smile, all the invitation he requir Kionn he red.
He prowled onto the bed and covered her, sank back into her welcoming warmth. He made love to her slowly this time, properly, the way a woman like her deserved to be pleasured. When they were both slicked in clean sweat and sated again, he stretched out alongside her and gathered her close. He stroked her pretty br**sts, caressed her delicate throat and jawline. Tried to will his eager, all-too-obvious erection to heel. An exercise in futility when Danika reached down to touch him, wrapping her fingers around the shaft and tenderly petting its length.
He groaned, savoring the feel of her hands on him. His curse was raw in his throat, as dark as the guilt that was suddenly rising up on him. He'd been able to push it aside so long as his senses were consumed with need, but now it gnawed at him.
Danika's touch went still. She was looking at him in concern now, forehead creased. "What is it, Mal? Am I doing something wrong?"
"No." He cursed again and brought her hand up to his mouth to place a kiss in her palm. "Nothing you've done is wrong. As for me ... Christ." He met her searching gaze, hated that he was making her think she was at fault somehow. He couldn't keep his hands from seeking her out. His fingers craved the feel of her the same way his c**k longed to be back inside her. "I feel like I'm betraying Conlan when I touch you. I'm betraying him by wanting you ... now, as I did then."
She stared at him in silence, a flicker of surprise in her eyes. "You wanted me?" She gave a small shake of her head, dismissing the idea with a quiet laugh. "As I recall it, through all your travels and exploits at the time, there was hardly a woman you met that you didn't eventually charm out of her virtue."
"But not you. And you were the only one I loved," he confessed, too late to bite it back.
He and Conlan had been friends for years, neighbors for even longer. They'd defended their lands together, rode into battles as a single force, as brothers. But as close as they'd been on the field and in duty, the two Breed males couldn't have been more different. Malcolm craved adventure and was always ready to chase it. Conlan was the steady one, the reliable one. The one most deserving of an extraordinary female like Danika.
Mal could still picture the night he and Con first saw her-the golden, Nordic beauty and adopted daughter of a powerful Darkhaven leader from Copenhagen. She was in Scotland on sojourn, independent even then, a mere girl of eighteen, staying with Breed relations in Edinburgh. Mal had wasted no time making introductions, seeking to impress her with stories of his travels all over the world and his dangerous exploits.
But it was Conlan who eventually won her over. Calm and considerate, steady Con.
"You were so unsettled, always unpredictable," she remarked now. "You would have broken my heart."
"Probably," he admitted. "But I was an idiot then. I didn't realize what you meant to me until Con confided that you and he were to be mated."
She swallowed, scarcely breathing now. "I never knew."
"Would it have made a difference if you had?"
Her eyes fell away from him for a moment, considering. "No, it wouldn't have. Conlan was a good man, a good mate to me through all our time together. I loved him completely. I always will."
Mal nodded, even though the words tasted bitter. "He honored you well. As I knew he would."
Danika reached for him now, her fingertips light on his clenched jaw. "Con's gone, and I'm still alive. I still mourn him, but I can't tell you that my heart isn't glad to be looking at you now, Malcolm. I won't deny that it feels good to be touching you, to be lying here with you, like this. I didn't realize how alone I've felt this past year until I had your arms around me." She stroked his scarred cheek, the pad of her thumb brushing tenderly over the poorly healed knife wound. "Conlan's not the only one you feel you're betraying here tonight, is he?"
He turned his head to avoid the contact, wishing he could avoid reliving the failure that earned him that brutal gash. Before Danika had a chance to prod his mind for answers, he mentally slammed the gate down hard on his past. Locked it behind a wall of cold fury. "I don't want to talk about that, Dani."
"You have an unfinished nursery upstairs," she murmured, sitting up with him when he started to move away from her on the bed. "You obviously don't live here anymore, or haven't in quite some time. And even though I can tell you're blocking me from your mind right now, downstairs in the kitchen, your thoughts gave away that you lost someone you loved. I know you're grieving and angry-"
"I said I don't want to talk about it," he snapped harshly. "All of that is personal."
She exhaled a quiet scoff. "There's nothing more personal than what we shared tonight. How can telling me about your past-about the mate it's obvious you loved and lost-be more intimate than this?"
"Because the less you know, the safer it will be for you." He swung his feet to the floor. "I have to go. I've been away from the club for too long."