Chapter Fifteen
Time passed while she floated. Giving up control had been ah-maazing.
Eventually, she had the energy to say, “I brought pie.”
“What?”
“Pie.”
“What kind of pie?”
She rolled to face him. “I made peach pie.”
“What possessed you to make pie?”
She smiled and touched his cheek. “Sometimes you just need pie.”
“Then let’s try this pie. I’m a connoisseur of pies, you know.”
She sat up, suddenly self-conscious to be naked. He got off the sofa and stalked into his bedroom, returning with his jeans on, and threw her a T-shirt. It covered her all the way down to just above her knees.
He wrapped an arm around her waist to pull her close. “I’d say clothes aren’t necessary because I enjoy you without them, but I couldn’t give your pie its due if you were naked.”
“I’ll have to remember that for the future when I need you distracted.”
“Only if you want me inside you in the kitchen.”
“Or wherever.” She bit her lip against laughing when his breath caught. He liked the “or wherever” offer.
“You’re a dangerous witch.”
“Can be.” She sauntered into his kitchen. “Plates?”
He removed two from a cabinet while she found a knife and two forks. She served him a generous piece. Both selected a barstool next to the counter.
He held up a large bite. “The moment of truth.”
She gave him a go-ahead nod while she nibbled on her piece. It was good, but she’d known it’d be good. Pie from a witch, especially one of the Pleiades ladies, was baked with… Her sight misted as she remembered her mother’s words every time she made pies. “Made of love, spice, and a little bit of something extra.” No magic. Just love. She blinked away the moisture, hoping Merck hadn’t noticed.
“Mmm,” he murmured as he took a second bite.
“How’s it rate, Mr. Pie Expert?”
“It’s pretty good.”
No oohing or aahing?
“Pretty good? That’s the most delicious pie you’ve ever tasted. Admit it.”
He took another bite without replying. And another, until he’d finished the entire piece. With a serious face he asked, “You actually baked this? Alone?”
“Yes. I like to bake pie. I can also cook other things. The kitchen and I get along quite well, and I was taught by a Southern cook master. My mom.” She bit back a sarcastic remark at his lack of appreciation. Insecurity lodged itself in her mind. Had she messed it up? It tasted right to her.
“You didn’t put any sort of potion into it or weave a spell over it?”
“No, I didn’t cast a spell. If I tried to mix up a potion, it would probably kill you since I suck at mixing them. My best friend is an expert, though.”
“Is that a threat?” His lips eased upward when he met her gaze. “I think the pie is…”
She held her breath waiting for his reply. He broke into a full, toothy grin, which turned into a laugh. She punched him in the arm. “Stop being an asshole.”
“Ow.” He rubbed his arm. “Yes, it’s the best piece of peach pie I’ve ever had.”
“But not the best pie you’ve ever had.”
“I’m not sure what other pies you have in your arsenal. I’ll hold my opinion for best until I taste all that you can cook. I’m partial to key lime pie.”
“You’re a tough customer.” She got up and snagged a glass off the drying rack. “Want some water?” She drank half a glass. “I love the water here. Something about the minerals.”
He nodded as he slid the pie plate his way and cut himself a second piece. “Want more?”
She shook her head.
“So, what did you do to me when I was in the backyard dying?” His eyes flickered a deep blue. For a moment she was stunned by the vibrant hue, but then as if the sea had become stormy, the color swirled and darkened. His aura churned with conflicting colors that made no sense. She couldn’t gauge his mood or intent.
“What do you mean?” She placed a glass of water in front of him and took her seat again.
“If you hadn’t done whatever you did, then I’d probably be having a chat with my uncle Hades.”
“I, uh, helped you.”
“You did more than help. You took away the poison and healed everything. How?”
She shifted on the barstool to alleviate the sudden urge to squirm. “Sometimes we Pleiades are able to pull someone back from death.”
“You can do this death save on anyone?”
She shook her head.
“Can you do this with someone other than me?”
She chewed on her lip. “Only you.”
“Why me?”
“We’re linked…connected.”
“Destined? Isn’t that what your father called it?”
“Maybe. I’m not sure.” Yes. He was her one-and-only. Healing it confirmed it, but she didn’t want to freak him out. He wasn’t a stayer as the hostess had said. She rested her chin on her hands with her elbows on the table and stared at the stove. “Most of my life I ran from all the destiny crap. I hated knowing I’d have to be the head Pleiades when mom died. I don’t deserve to be their leader. I’ve got the least experience. Then Mom died. I never wanted to jump dimensions and use these weird abilities that I still have no idea how to control. All I wanted was to be normal.”
He put two fingers on her chin to pull her gaze to his. “What the hell is normal? Every person in the world faces the death of those closest to us and the burden of responsibility. Our lives come with complications far beyond what most people deal with, sure, but it’s nothing we can’t handle. The extra abilities are a part of us. They make us who we are. What do you mean you can’t control your abilities? What can’t you do, or what do you think you should be able to do that you haven’t figured out yet?”
“My mom had elemental abilities to control wind, water, and sometimes fire. I think I got those, but I really suck at it. Mom was the turbo-charged espresso version of a witch and I’m a weak-tea version.”
“I need for you to become good at whatever skills you’ve got. There are a lot of black-magic shitheads in the area who sound like they’re gunning for you. What do you mean by control water?”
“Move it. Change its form.”
He stood and filled his glass with water. “Stop the water.”
He threw it at her.
Without hesitation, she held up a hand, stopping the water midair.
“Now change it to ice.”
She hesitated. The water fell onto the floor in a huge puddle.
“I’m so sorry.” She jumped up, grabbed a wad of paper towels, and rushed to sop up the mess. “I suck at this whole magic thing.”
“Leave it.” He knelt beside her and put his hand over hers. He pulled her to her feet and into his arms.
She turned her head up to his, expecting gentle reassurance. What she got was entirely different. His mouth came down on hers, his tongue sweeping away resistance. His arms crushed her against his tight body. When he lifted his head, her brain fluttered with lightheaded need to continue. She gazed into his eyes, drowning. His hands framed her face.
“What do you see when you look at me?” he asked.
Her breath caught in her lungs. After a slow release of air she moistened her lips.
“Tell me,” he coaxed. “Read my aura.”
She couldn’t look away. Colors swirled around him.
“Do you see disgust? Disappointment?” he coaxed.
She shook her head.
“Tell me out loud. What do you see?”
“There’s a lot to see. There’s desire.” That actually didn’t do justice to describe the intensity burning in the depths of his gaze and hovering in his aura. “Lust.”
He grinned. “That’s a given. Touching you makes me want you. What else? Is there anything negative here? Anything to indicate I think you’re something other than a remarkable witch?”
“No. But there’s a darkness to you.”
“That’s a part of who I am. I’m a hunter. A killer. I do it because I can and must. I’m not dangerous to you.” He traced one of her cheeks with a finger. “I’ll do whatever it takes to keep you safe. It might be something you don’t like. Right now, keeping you safe means you learn to trust yourself and your abilities. Hesitation and doubt will get you killed.”
“How do I get that confidence?”
“How do you stop the water?”
“I don’t know. I just do it.”
“That’s it, then.” He stepped away to refill the cup and slung it at her.
She stopped it midair again.
“Change it to ice. Just do it. No thinking. Do it.”
She didn’t break her fix on his gaze and focused on the concept of ice. The water changed and hit the floor with a loud clunk. She grinned. “I made a mess again.”
“You did.” He grinned. “Now clean it up without touching it. Move it to the sink.”
“But—”
His face fell to a glower.
She imagined where she wanted the water. No hesitation. Just need to do what might make him smile again. The water moved off the floor to the sink.
“Good.” He lifted her hand to his lips and kissed one fingertip. Then he sucked it between his lips, flicking his tongue over her finger. Suggestive. Hot.
He cupped the back of her neck, trapping her for what she expected to be a kiss. But he held her that way, stroking her cheek with his thumb, his gaze searching hers as if all the answers to every problem both of them had to deal with lay inside her somewhere.
If only that was the truth.
“You’re going to be okay, Shannon.” He stared at her so intently with those eyes as turbulent as the ocean. She wanted to drown in them and forget everything else. Suddenly she became aware of her near nakedness so close to his chest. It’d be so easy for him to push up the shirt and have her on any surface in this kitchen.
Just when she thought she’d melt if this didn’t go somewhere, he leaned in. His lips slanted over hers. A breathless moan erupted from her. She clenched his arms. Such strong arms. His tongue took over her mouth until she had to pull away to breathe. He attacked her throat with his lips. His hot breath against her was the sexiest thing she’d ever experienced. His teeth caught her sensitized skin.
Her legs wobbled, and she almost went over with no anchor to buffer her from the intense sensations, but he caught her and fell back onto the barstool. He pulled her to straddle his lap. His hands snaked beneath the T-shirt to rest against the small of her back then down to cup both cheeks of her ass.
“Christ, Shannon,” he groaned, leaning his forehead against her shoulder. His hands massaged and soothed.
“Please,” she begged as she ground her pelvis into him, rasping all sensitive zones against his jeans while his hands continued their squeezing torment.
“Hasty little thing, aren’t you? I’ve got to teach you to slow down.” His fingers teased her, invaded her.
“Slow down later.” She wiggled and pressed down against them, seeking and needing. She didn’t want to savor. Not right now.
He showed her no mercy, allowing her to angle backward a bit so he could use his fingers deeper. She rocked her hips against him until she flew apart. “Merck…”
His mouth caught her cry as she shattered.
“Now that was fucking beautiful,” he muttered.
She buried her face in his neck, not sure if she was embarrassed or overwhelmed. She rolled her head outward to rest it against his chest. Absently, she traced the tattoos streaking down his arms to his hands and over his shoulders like barbed wire with foreign-looking script. “What do these mean?”
“I wish I knew. Every time I kill a deviant magical, a new one appears.”
“There are hundreds.”
“I’ve been busy. Never forget I’m not a good person. I’ve done a lot of things.” Softly, he added, “I’ve killed a lot.”
She leaned away to cradle his head between her hands. “Don’t say things like that. These people you killed probably murdered more than a lot before you stopped them. They would’ve killed more. You could die every time you go after one of them. Do the marks hurt?”
She traced a few of the inked lines and rested her head on his chest again, next to his heat, with the thump-thump of his heart against her ear.
“Not really.”
“I want a better look at them. How about the bathtub?”
He grinned, lifted her, and carried her to the bathroom. He set her down on the edge of the tub and turned it on.
She could almost feel the electricity arcing between them. A glance up at his seductive mouth, now thinned into concentration on the water tumbling into the tub, and she could almost taste him. His gaze drifted possessively over her face.
Waiting for a full bathtub would take far too long when all she wanted was her lips on his again. She stood and found his mouth with hers, her tongue plunging deep and stroking along his, not giving him time to think. She loved the shape of his lips, their softness and strength. She tugged his jeans down until they pooled around his feet. He yanked the T-shirt over her head and skimmed his hands down her breasts. Then he leaned forward to replace his hands with his mouth. He bit gently on her nipple, and heat flared straight to her legs. A choking cry broke from her, her body shuddering for him all over again.
He backed her up against the wall, pinning her wrists and drawing them over her head while his mouth continued to ravage her. Fingers teased between her thighs. “Darlin’, you’re so wet for me. I wish I could wait until we’re in the tub.”
She couldn’t talk. Couldn’t even plead. She was blind with want for everything the low rasp of his declaration suggested might come next.
“Wrap your legs around me.” His voice was hoarse in her ear. He dropped her wrists to support and lift her body. Her legs automatically locked around him. When he was poised to enter her, he paused as if waiting. Was she supposed to beg?
He leaned in and kissed her cheek and then the bridge of her nose. “You make me feel things I never have before.”
He dropped her body over his, linking them together. She heard her own shattered cry as he filled her and drove into her ultrasensitive body. The friction, hot and tight, dragged fire over her body.
The possessive glitter in his gaze, which swirled a myriad of blue colors as he continued a relentless rhythm, mesmerized her. Harsh desire etched into every line of his face. Her mind stilled. Everything in her quieted. That wasn’t just desire or possession in his expression and in his aura. That was love. This man might own her body and had wiggled his way into her heart, maybe even her soul, but she owned him right back. He might not even know it. He probably wouldn’t admit it.
It was too fast for love. It was lust. Had to be. Didn’t love take time?
He shifted, slamming against a zone of nerves, and once again she was lost to the intensity of what he created within her. He thrust hard until she shattered. Moments later, with a cry, he came apart. His heart thundered against her chest as he panted. He gently lowered her and they collapsed against each other, held up only by the wall.
“Give me a second and I’ll carry you to the tub,” he whispered.
“That’s romantic, but it’s only three steps away. I can make it.” She waved behind him.
“If you can still walk, then we’re not done tonight. Not even close.” A wicked grin spread across his face.
Oh yeah. Totally on board with everything the grin promised.