A Kiss of Magic: A Kiss of Magic Book One

by Jacquelyn Frank

  “Is it done? Do you promise never to do anything like that again?”

  Dendri hesitated only slightly, but she saw it. He quickly said, “I cannot do it again now the Raja Sin has seen me. There would be too great a risk of discovery.”

  “Then why did you hesitate?”

  “Because…at my level…I have acquired the ability to make others see my appearance otherwise…to make it so they cannot recognize me. However, it takes a great deal of mental fortitude. But…it can be done.”

  “But you won’t do it? Surely there are those that could see through your disguise. What of when you must sleep? Dendri please…” She leaned forward and gripped at his hand. “Promise me you won’t ever do anything like that again.”

  He looked away from her imploring gaze.

  “There is no longer a need as we are no longer at war,” he said.

  “That isn’t a promise!” she snapped.

  “It is the best I can do,” he said sharply in return. “The triumvirate knows I do not wish to take part in any further covert missions into enemy territory. I’ve made it very clear. Although…like their request for me to take out Delongo, there may come a time when they have no choice but to ask the difficult of me. I would not be able to say no in all good conscience.”

  Yasra looked away from him and out of the carriage window, staring blindly at the passing buildings. Tears filled her eyes and he could see the wetness on her lashes.

  “Don’t worry,” he cajoled softly. “It’s all over now. There’s no need for promises because there is no need for war.”

  She swallowed hard and finally looked back at him. His stomach knotted up as two large tears dropped from her lashes and down onto her paled cheeks.

  “Is there anything else I should know?” she asked, her tone almost flat.

  “Not that I’m aware of,” he said gently. He lifted her knuckles to his lips and kissed them warmly. “Let’s talk of other things. What would you like to do for supper? Eat at home or at an eatery?”

  “Home,” she said, her sigh a little forlorn. “If I can call it home.”

  “Of course you can call it home,” he said, confusion entering his tone. “You live there now. With me.”

  “For now,” she said.

  Dendri almost corrected her in anger. For always, he almost said. But he knew that wasn't the case. Once she was strong enough she could leave him…

  The thought filled his veins with ice water. He didn’t know why. He didn’t want that kind of commitment. He had made that very clear to himself and to her.

  So why then did he feel as though the idea of her leaving would tear his soul to shreds?

  It was because the relationship was too new, he decided. He had not had his fill of her. Even as he devoured her time and again he had felt he was not satisfied. Not that she didn’t satisfy him in bed…she did. It went beyond satisfaction. She would leave him replete and content. But he did not wish for it to end. Not yet.

  He would always be close to her, he knew. He would have to be if they were Gestalt. As long as they could handle the end to the physical side of their relationship with maturity when the time came, they would always be able to work in concert together.

  Dendri felt a pall settle over him at the idea of the end of things. Surely she would always want to remain close. Was that what she was saying? Was she tired of being with him already? Was she already seeking a way to separate herself from him?

  “Are you unhappy?” he asked her, unable to stop himself. “Do I make too many demands on you? Do you not wish to be with me any longer?” Every word hurt. Every word stung. Please say no, he begged her in his own thoughts. Please say you will stay with me.

  She looked at him with utter surprise in her stunning blue eyes.

  “No, of course not,” she said, soothing his fractious soul with the words. “I don’t want to leave you. Only…you may want me to leave one day soon,” she said, her eyes casting away from him.

  He frowned. “I do not want you to leave me. Not any time soon.”

  He meant the words to comfort her, but somehow she looked as though she had cringed on the inside. He was tempted to invade her thoughts. She had grown strong, able to keep many out of her thoughts, but not him. If he wanted to he could plunder her mind and her emotions.

  But he had promised her he would not do so. He would not take what she was unwilling to give.

  “Yasra, love,” he said, taking her hand tightly between his and sitting forward on the coach’s seat. She sat across from him and suddenly it felt like an enormous gulf between them. He was desperate to close the distance. “tell me what is troubling you.”

  “Don’t call me that,” she snapped suddenly. She turned fierce, angry eyes to him.

  “Don’t call you what?” he asked bewildered.

  “Love. Don’t call me love unless you mean it.”

  Had he done that? Had he called her love? He was stunned to realize he had. That was not the norm for him. He might call a woman sweetheart or some other endearment, but he would never have called them ‘love’. It invited feelings and emotions he did not wish to engender.

  “I’m sorry. I had not realized I said it. I did not mean to offend you.” He frowned. “Tell me what is troubling you.”

  “You wouldn’t understand. You aren’t capable of understanding.”

  Well that was an odd way to put things, he thought. What wouldn’t he be capable of understanding? He was Aspano. He dealt in thoughts and emotions every day. She had to realize that.

  “I would,” he insisted. “There’s nothing you might be thinking or feeling that I could not help you with. You only need to trust me.”

  “I do not trust you,” she bit out, her blue eyes filled with fire as she glared at him. “You can’t be trusted!”

  His pride was blistered at the accusation.

  “There is nothing I would do to anyone that would allow them to decry my ability to be trusted!” he ground out, anger in every word.

  “Olla warned me not to get close to you. Not to trust your fidelity, but I didn’t listen.” He saw fresh tears bleeding into her luminous eyes.

  “Olla?” he was confused. What in hell was she talking about? What had Olla said to her? “What has Olla said to you?”

  “She said you would never be able to give me your heart. That you would tire of me and go back to her. That you always come back to her. But I didn’t listen. I let my emotions get the better of me. I fell in love with you anyway. And I know telling you this is my ticket out of your life. I’ll be put out of it so fast my head will spin. But I can’t take this anymore. I can’t keep it inside and pretend it’s not there!”

  Tears fell rapidly down her cheeks. She pulled her hands free, wrapping her arms around her middle as if to comfort herself.

  Dendri sat in shock. He didn’t know what to say. He didn’t know what to do. She had promised him she could deal with this relationship maturely, without any childish emotions.

  But were they childish? Did he have any right to dismiss her feelings like that? Is that what she meant when she said she couldn’t trust him?

  The remainder of the ride went by in silence…save for the sniffling, angry tears she couldn’t seem to control. They pulled up to the villa and she flung the door wide and threw herself out of the carriage without the aide of himself or any footman. He followed in her wake quickly, but then slowed down. If he caught her, what could he say to her? She had said it all. She knew he had not asked for nor wanted her love. He had started this…he had swept into her life, swept her off her feet and, apparently, swept her heart away.

  He had not meant to do that. He had meant to…

  What had he meant to do? What had he been thinking when he had yanked her into his life and into his bed. Without taking the time to know what kind of woman she was he had taken her.

  This was his fault. He should have used more caution. But…she had bewitched him from the very beginning. She had pulled him into their
sex majic and it had started a chain of events that he too had been swept up in.

  He followed after her, chasing her down. They needed to talk about this.

  He found her in her room She was throwing clothes into her valise, shoving them in in a desperate sort of anger.

  “What are you doing?” he demanded of her, reaching to grab her wrist.

  “I’m leaving! That’s what you want isn’t it? No emotions. No complications. If you want that then I have to go.” She jerked at her hand but he held fast.

  “I don’t want you to leave! I never said I wanted you to leave.” A horrible feeling of desperation started to climb through him. He didn’t like it. He didn’t like any of this. “You can’t leave. You have nowhere to go and you aren’t safe out there!”

  “I’ll go to my parents’ house. They’ll be happy to have me. Their Gestalt daughter. They have the power to protect me.”

  “You will not go to those people! What about Bess? What will you do with Bess? You aren’t thinking this through!”

  “Bess can stay here with you until she finds a new situation. Will you do that for me? I’m begging you, if you care anything about me, can you take care of Bess for me?” She looked so small and defeated as she reluctantly met his eyes and asked him for this favor.

  Would he do this for her? Of course he would. He would do anything for her. He would move the heavens if he had to.

  The thought was on him before his cold, logical mind could quash it. If he cared for her? Yes, he cared for her.

  “Please…let me go.”

  No. He would not let her go.

  “No. You can’t leave me,” he whispered softly. He took a step closer to her, the warmth of their bodies mingling. He pulled the fragrance of her in through his nose in a long breath. It was a scent so uniquely Yasra that there was nothing to compare it to. Nothing to identify it with. She gathered a variety of scents to her throughout the day and in so many ways…but she smelled of nothing but Yasra.

  He touched his lips to her forehead, right at the crest of it, at her hairline.

  “You can’t leave me,” he repeated.

  “Then say something to make me stay,” she said. She was trembling in his hold. Shivers that had nothing to do with the fact that there was no fire built up in the grate of the room at present.

  He knew what she wanted.

  But he couldn’t give that to her, his logical mind said.

  He desperately needed her to stay, his heart cried. He couldn’t bear her leaving. But he couldn’t say what wasn't in his heart. He couldn’t—

  His heart twisted. Flipped over. Dance a rapid tattoo. It did everything it could to get his attention.

  It is in your heart, you idiot!

  The understanding made him go cold…then hot…then cold again. He was terrified. To love meant to open himself up to pain. She would have an incredible amount of power over him. But…he already knew he would do anything for her. He had already told himself as much.

  He had known all along he loved her, he had just been too afraid to acknowledge it. To face it. To give in to it.

  His silence made her sob and she yanked on her hand, this time freeing herself because he was lax with his stunned emotions. She had taken his silence as his answer. She had taken it to mean he didn’t love her.

  He grabbed her, holding her by both arms he turned her to face him. She struggled, but he shook her slightly until she looked at him. Her face was ravaged with pain and with tears.

  How could he tell her? Make her believe? Make her understand?

  “I love you,” he said simply, those three little words the fastest, quickest way to express all the depths of his feelings for her.

  She froze. She gaped at him. Then she struggled to be free of him.

  “You do not love me! You’re just saying that as a ploy to get me to stay! You’re unkind and…and…and obnoxious and cruel!”

  “How can I make you believe me? I’ve been blind. Oblivious and blind and afraid. A damn coward. But I won’t be anymore. I can’t be anymore. How can I convince you?”

  “By saying it to me first! But you didn’t, did you?”

  “Yasra, I can’t change the past, love. Sweetheart, you have to believe me. I won’t be ignorant anymore.”

  “Don’t call me that!” She swung out and went to slap him, but he caught her hand easily.

  With a hard jerk he pulled her up against his body and stared down into her eyes.

  “Come into me,” he whispered fiercely. “Come into my mind and my emotions and see for yourself. See it all. I will do what I do for no one else. I will let you into my mind. Come into me, sweet Yasra. Do me that favor. Come into me and see.”

  She went still, her expression untrusting and cautious, but he could see she was seriously compelled by the thought of entering the one mind on all of their continent that no other person was strong enough to see into. Eventually her curiosity won out and she looked up into his eyes.

  The moment she did he crushed his mouth down on hers, unable to keep himself in check. He should let her find what she wanted first, but he could not. He could not look down into that stricken face full of a beauty he loved and let her go one more second without knowing how much she meant to him.

  She weakened almost instantly, her head dropping back under the onslaught of his kiss. He dragged her body into contact with his, groaning when the feel of her fed his starving body. He had been wanting her all day, sitting with his hand in hers as she drew absent designs on his palm, her stroke going right through him, making him think of the other ways in which she stroked him with those fingers.

  At first, she didn’t come into him, keeping her mind within itself as she bore the brunt of his passion. Her hands went to his shoulders, her fingers gripping at the fabric of his greatcoat. He hadn’t even had time to divest himself of it. He did so now, never leaving her mouth as he stripped the garment away. He wanted nothing between her hands and his skin. He shrugged out of his tailed coat as well and yanked the tails of his shirt free. Without pulling it over his head he took her hands and brought them onto his chest beneath the shirt.

  Her fingers were cold from the outdoors and his skin contracted under the sensation, but they warmed quickly while in contact with his body. Her hands slid around his ribs and onto his back, clutching him to her. His fingers went to the cloak-pin of her cloak and dropped the garment from her in a sheet of velvet. She wore silk beneath, one of the fine dresses she had bought on Haverton Street. His finger worked to pull her skirt up from the floor just as she began to climb his body. Her kiss turned wild…hungry. It was full of a desperation that made his heart ache. He had done this to her. He had made her hurt. Made her think this was the only love he could give her. And it had been…until now. Until her.

  His mouth broke from hers and he was gasping for breath as he dragged his mouth away and down her neck. He came to just below her ear as his hands touched her thighs. He drew his hands up to the tapes of her drawers and with a single pull loosened them so they drifted down her legs and down around her ankles. She kicked them away and together they brought her feet from the ground and wrapped her legs around his waist.

  She pulled at his shirt and they awkwardly went about removing it even as he lurched forward and slammed her back against the wall. His breath was hot against her ear as he said again, “Come into me.”

  His hand engulfed her breast on the right as his right hand went for the placket at the front of his breeches. He was hard. So hard that the brush of his own fingers made him wince with sensitivity. But he freed himself from his pants with hard decided movements. He aimed for her without even seeing if she was ready for him, hoping that her heated response to him had been enough for her. He thrust up and into her in one hard movement.

  She was so wet and slick, so hot and grasping. He sank deep and groaned against her skin. He heard her gasp out loudly. His fingers were yanking at the bodice of her gown, freeing her breast to the cupping of his hand.
Her nipple became a hard point, the nub warm between his fingers. He raised his head and met her eyes as he thrust into her.

  “Come into me,” he said.

  She did.

  It was gentle at first, in total counterpoint to the raging heat of their clashing bodies. He thrust into her harder, prompting her to answer with a thrust of her own. She plunged into his open mind.

  Yasra had been desperate for him. The moment he had kissed her she had known they would come together. There had been such fire. Even more fire than they usually shared…and that was saying something. He was inviting her into his mind at every step, and she wanted to…oh, how she wanted to. But she was afraid of what she would find, or rather, what she wouldn’t find. She was afraid that she would find the words of love, but not the heart of them. Even so, she had to know. She had to know for certain. If this was the last time they were together, she would relish it for all it was worth. She had not known the last time would be their last time…and this time she did. She wanted to take it with her. Keep it close to her heart. Make her body remember it at every opportunity until it made the pain of her loss go away.

  Unless…unless she found what she was looking for.

  What she was hoping for.

  His mind was so complex, she understood, but right then it had devolved into its baser components. Need. Lust. Want.

  And more.

  Emotion. Strong, overwhelming emotion. He was almost paralyzed with it. Paralyzed with fear that she would not find what she was looking for. Forcing himself to let down his guards…even to himself…so that he could feel what he felt for her.

  She was right when she had thought he didn’t want to feel love for her. He was so guarded in that way, protecting himself from he knew not what. He no longer understood what he had been afraid of. Not in the face of how desperately he was needing her. He didn’t want her to leave him. Not now. Not ever.

  He was in love with her. Deeply, dangerously in love with her. Dangerous because it gave her power over him. Complete and unmitigated power over him. He would do anything for her. Anything she needed or wanted…he could not say no to her. And she recognized immediately just how hazardous that was. She basically had all of his power at her fingertips.