softened beneath his and began to move, joining the kiss. A sound escaped her throat. Half sigh, half moan. All pleasure.
He didn’t touch her except where their lips met, yet the force of that touch swept him beyond himself, beyond mattering, tugging at places inside him that had lain cold and dormant for too long.
Stirring a need…a weakness…
He pulled away. “I have no concussion.”
The human…Autumn…blinked, her cheeks flushed and rosy, her expression flustered. “I…umm…right. No concussion.” The flashlight slipped from her fingers and thudded against the wooden coffee table, making her jump. She backed away from him, knocking into the table and nearly dislodging a cup, sending it into a precarious wobble. “You…should go. I’ll tell Larsen you were here.”
He shouldn’t have kissed her. Touching her…tasting her…did things to him, weakened him in ways he could ill afford. And with this small aggression, he’d apparently frightened her. A serious mistake when his goal was to win her trust.
His hands fisted and unfisted at his sides as his brain searched for a way to bring her back under his control without frightening her again. Since he couldn’t seem to control her thoughts, perhaps he had no choice but to back away and try to approach her again at a later time. As if he had time.
What a fool he’d been to kiss her, no matter how pleasant he’d found the experience.
“I’ll go, then,” he said reluctantly. “Tell…ask…Larsen to call me.”
“Oh. Right. I need to get your number.” Autumn lifted her palm to her forehead as if trying to gather her wits. As she did, her sweater sleeve dropped, revealing the oddly rustic bracelet twisted around her wrist. It almost looked like…holly. Of course! The plant was scarce in Esria, for it had the disturbing ability to thwart and confound magic. No wonder he’d failed to control her.
If he could get the holly away from her, he might salvage this day’s work after all.
He followed Autumn to the kitchen counter, standing at her elbow where he could easily reach her, watching as she picked up a pen and a small pad of paper.
Not meeting his gaze, she asked, “What’s your number?”
“Two-oh-two,” he began, then slowly reached out to stroke her bracelet. “I like the look of this.” He allowed his fingers to slide across the soft skin of her wrist while he shoved thoughts into her head.
The holly itches. I need to take it off.
“No.” Her voice was a whisper, as if she spoke to herself.
The holly itches. I can’t stand having it touch my skin.
“No, I can’t,” she murmured, but even as she said the words, her other hand grabbed the bracelet, wrenched it off her wrist, and dropped it to the counter.
Kaderil snatched her hand before she gathered her wits, and continued his assault on her mind. I don’t want Kade to leave. I want him to touch me. As long as he could keep hold of her, he could get her to lead him to Larsen Vale.
With her free hand, she rubbed at her wrist where the holly had been, her gaze fixed on her task. Kaderil brushed her fingers aside and stroked the soft skin for her. “Is that better?”
“Yes.” The word was full of confusion, a lost sound that resonated uncomfortably in the hollows of his heart, pricking his conscience.
He pushed the feeling aside. He needed to learn what he could from her, anything that might help him find that draggon stone and destroy the Sitheen. Using the link formed by the press of skin on skin, he reached into her mind and absorbed the wealth of knowledge he found there, an amazing array of facts about archaeology and artifacts, folklore and past human civilizations. And, as often happened when he eavesdropped on a human’s mind, he got little in the way of concrete memories, mostly impressions and opinions.
Beneath his fingers, her pulse began to quicken. He was frightening her again. A poor way to earn her trust. He released her arm and was about to step back, when her gaze lifted to his, stopping him.
There was no fear in her expression. No uncertainty at all. And he realized, suddenly, that it wasn’t fear driving her speeding pulse. Sweet Esria, it was desire. Her eyes fairly blazed with it.
Before he could fully grasp this sudden change in her, she reached for him, pulled his face down, and pressed her mouth hard to his.
Need surged through his body. Shock flooded his brain at the sudden closeness. At the feel of a woman pressed against him, not in fear, but in desire.
His body rose even as his mind rebelled. Too close. He was the Punisher. He kept others at bay for a reason. Just as he never wanted his own people to learn of his great lack of power, he couldn’t let the humans know he was more than human.
He grabbed her shoulders, his mind insisting he push her away. But her tongue swept into his mouth and all thought fled. His arms went around her, pulling her tight against him. He reveled in the feel of her soft breasts pressed against his chest, her thighs pushing against his.
He fell into the chaos, sliding and twining his tongue with hers, tracing the contours of her teeth and mouth, drinking the passion she’d suddenly, miraculously, given in to. Her hands roamed his back with growing need. He basked in her heat.
Her hands curved around the back of his neck, pulling him closer, telling him in no uncertain terms that she wanted him. The knowledge rocked him. Never had a woman desired him like this, without fear. Without question.
Her hands lowered and she tugged at his arms, pulling them away from her. Confused, he started to retreat from her kiss, but her mouth followed his, drawing him to her as she shoved his hands beneath the hem of her shirt, sliding his palms over her abdomen. The shock of that warm hidden skin sent hot desire rushing through his veins.
She was his. For this moment, for this hour, his mission was forgotten. His reason for being with her was forgotten in the explosion of pure feeling that had become his body. He slid his palms up to cover the silk-draped mounds of her breasts, eliciting a low moan from her throat. The sound of her pleasure, the feel of the soft mounds beneath his palms, nearly sent him over the edge.
His mouth dipped to her neck, tasting her freckles, drawing a delicious shudder from her ripe, ready body. He wanted her. With everything he had, everything he was, he wished he could bury himself deep inside this woman’s heat. Most heady of all was the certainty that she lusted after him every bit as much. Beneath his fingers, her body trembled, begging for release. Her spicy fragrance was a song to his senses, her moans of pleasure driving him to madness. She was made for mating, made for him.
“Touch me,” she begged, then pulled back and yanked her soft shirt over her head and tossed it to the floor.
He watched with wondrous anticipation as her hands went to her back to release her bra. But then his gaze flicked to her face, to her eyes, and he froze.
Tears slipped down her cheeks, her eyes filled not with lust, but with frantic need…and panic.
“I need you to touch me,” she whispered brokenly.
His own words came back to him, the words he’d thrust into her head. Somehow he’d done this to her
