By the Goddess.
The floor tilted beneath her feet and Gràinne reached out to grab the arm of the nearest chair, steadying herself against it. Thankfully, he’d already turned back to whatever it was he was doing and didn’t see her almost fall over.
Apparently the Creator, in Her infinite wisdom, had carved the perfect being from the bole of a mahogany tree and then, breathing life into him, made this man. His face was a series of wide, flattened planes and deeply chiseled angles combining to create a breathtaking landscape of harsh, dark beauty. Fierce black eyes had seemed to have raked her from top to toes, igniting a cascade of desire to flare over her skin. Long, thick dreadlocks hung around his face, somehow emphasizing his commanding presence.
Holy Mother, preserve me.
Suddenly the air around her seemed heavy, full of invisible sparks that stung and tingled against her skin, making her shiver. As she watched he raised his hands to sweep the locks back from his face, securing them at his nape with a rubberized band. The motion caused the muscles in his back to flex beneath his shirt, and Gràinne trembled to see their smooth, strong movement.
“What can I do for you?”
Impossible to ignore the way his deep, soft voice rumbled into her, vibrating and rocking through her system, making her already rubbery legs even weaker. Still gripping the chair, giving thanks he hadn’t yet turned around, she swallowed and somehow found the wherewithal to speak.
“I need—” She cut herself off, cursing at the tremulous sound of her voice. “I came to get a tattoo.”
“That all?” Now he turned, snagged her gaze with those dark, sparkling eyes, holding her motionless. “Somehow I think you want a lot more, and I don’t know that you’ll find it here.”
Chapter Two
“What?” Shock made her voice come out as a squeak. “What do you mean by that?”
A slow, almost sly smile tilted the corners of his mouth, but there was no amusement in his eyes. “You bringing a storm with you, sweetness. The Orixás whispered to me that you’re going to need some help.”
Fear shafted into her belly, but she kept her chin up, her gaze level with his. “Maybe the Orixás, whoever they are, are mistaken. All I want is a tattoo.”
His lips twisted fractionally, and he shook his head. “Sorry. The gods don’t lie. Besides, storms are my specialty. Felt this one coming when I got up this morning.” Now his eyes twinkled, and she couldn’t tell whether he was laughing at her or himself. “Been making me a little edgy. I’m almost glad you’re finally here and we can get on with it.”
Realizing she was gaping at him like an idiot, she snapped her mouth shut and tried to marshal her thoughts. It wasn’t easy with him standing there, a knowing grin on his face, more gorgeous than a man had a right to be. He filled her with such a wash of taboo thoughts she was surprised she didn’t just melt into a puddle.
I don’t have time for this.
Yet the sensation of lust, experienced for the first time, was crazy-wonderful. Who knew that her body could tremble and swell with need, her nipples pucker just from looking at this man? Or that his voice could stroke the tingling flesh between her legs like a finger, making it quiver with anticipation?
No time, Gràinne!
She swallowed, took a deep breath and inhaled his scent, a mélange of earthy, woodsy tones that somehow made her think of shadowed forests and life-giving rain. Holding on to her thoughts took more effort than she thought possible. “About the tattoo…”
“Uh-huh.” He moved slightly, rocking from one foot to the other, those amazing eyes sweeping her face, making the heat suffusing her cheeks deepen. “Any particular one, or do you want to look at some designs?”
Now she had to move, overcome the strange enchantment holding her in place. Taking a deep breath, she let go of the chair to dig in the pocket of her coat for the sketch.
“I have a design.” Oh Mother, she had to go nearer to be able to give it to him. Forcing strength into her legs, Gràinne took a couple of steps, until he was within arm’s length. Why did each movement feel like wading through a whirlpool of fairydust mixed with tiny bees? This close she could see the lightly inscribed tribal lines on his cheeks and forehead, had to curl her fingers hard not to reach out and touch them, feel their texture, see if the unmarked flesh in between was as soft as it looked. “Do you want to see it?”
“Not yet.” He was still smiling, but the air of intensity surrounding him seemed to rise, taking her desire with it. “Have a couple of questions to ask you first.”
The hair on the back of her neck rose at his tone, a mixture of amusement and something far less innocent, and the tingling on her skin morphed into gooseflesh. Goddess, he made it hard for her to breathe. “What kind of questions?”
Crossing his arms over that incredibly broad chest, he tipped his head to one side. “Easy stuff, sweetness.” The endearment flowed again from his tongue like mead, sending a shiver down her spine. “Like, your name, classification. Things I need to know to get the job done and fill out the paperwork for my boss.”
His words said one thing, but his eyes were asking other questions, ones she had no answers for. Unable to hold his gaze any longer, she looked down, shoving her hands into the pockets of her coat to hide their sudden trembling. Self-preservation was shouting for her to give a false name, but in her heart she knew it was too late for that anyway.
“I’m called Gràinne.”
He reached for a clipboard lying on the table behind him, and she glanced up at him from under her lashes. Realizing he was still watching her, she went back to examining the toes of her boots.
“GRAW-nya?” He mimicked her intonation but stretched her name out until it rippled like a Norn-silk banner in the wind. “How d’you spell that, sweetness?”
She wanted to tell him not to call her “sweetness” but it was a tossup as to which name, said in that soft, rumbling voice, affected her more. So she left it alone. “G-R-A-I-N-N-E, surname Bairdie.”
For good measure she spelled her last name for him too, lifting her gaze just enough to watch his hand as he wielded the pen. The implement looked tiny in comparison to his fingers, the paper almost dazzling white in contrast to his skin.
When he touches me, is that what his skin will look like on mine?
At the thought a shudder of reaction raced through her limbs to settle, quivering, between her legs and she gasped, unable to suppress her instinctive inhalation. His hand stopped moving, and she could almost feel his gaze brushing over her, spreading the heated flush staining her cheeks down to beneath her coat.
“With a name like that, I’m guessing you’re Northern Fey.” His voice had dropped lower, no longer rumbled but drummed, soft and enticing, like rain on a slate roof. “Their names never look like how they sound.”
His words were like a dash of icy water in her face, and she looked up, wanting to see his reaction when she said, “No. I’m Banshee.”
The only indication that she’d surprised him was a quirk of his eyebrows. “Huh. Never tattooed a Banshee before.” Tilting his head to one side, he continued. “Don’t think I’ve even seen one.”
Damn.
“Will that be a problem? To my getting the tattoo, I mean.”
Jakuta shrugged. “Not sure. I’ll have to see if there’s anything in the book about the right ink to use.”
“And if there isn’t?”
She tried to keep it cool, not let him see how ill she suddenly felt at the thought of him refusing to even try. But she knew she hadn’t succeeded when his gaze grew so piercing it was almost impossible to hold. It took everything she had to not look away.
“We cross that bridge when—if—we get to it, sweetness.” Before she could ask anything more, he held out his hand. “Let me see the design.”
The paper was still clutched in her hand, and as Gràinne pulled it back out of her pocket she realized it felt far warmer than her clammy, trembling fingers. Opening the folds, she tried to smoot
h out the wrinkles before holding it out, turned so he could see it right-side-up.
Jakuta looked down, reached for the scrap of parchment. When his fingers touched it, heat flared up Gràinne’s arm and a line of fire raced around the sigil at the center of the design. Shocked, she instinctively let go and realized he had too when the paper fluttered to the floor.
Neither made a move to pick it up, but their eyes rose at the same time, met. The grim look on his face made Gràinne swallow.
“Powerful magic.” There was an almost contemplative tone to his words. “Why you need to put something like that on your body?”
She shook her head. No way would she tell him what she was trying to do. Something about him, perhaps the deep intelligence in his eyes, or the aura crackling and humming around him, told her he’d never agree. “It’s not as strong as you think.” Bending, she picked up the paper, waved it in front of him. “See? Nothing happens when I hold it. It must be something about you.”
His eyelids drifted down to reveal their thick, curling lashes, and the corners of his mouth tilted up in a slow, sexy smile. When he touched her cheek a jolt of electricity almost knocked Gràinne off her feet. “Or maybe something about the two of us, together.”
Rocked back onto her heels, she could only stare into his sparkling, dangerous eyes and absorb the sensation flowing into her skin. With a soft sweep of one caressing finger he traced the line of her jaw, lingered just below her ear. Lifting one hand, she grasped his wrist and, as though a circuit had been completed, felt a surge of confusion and anticipation fill her with liquid fire, setting her ablaze from the inside out.
Her clothes felt too tight and warm, her body demanding their removal so she could expose more of her skin to his touch. She wanted to tug his hand lower, feel the touch of his fingertip to her nipples. The thought of the electric sensation arcing directly to the straining, desperate tips made her shiver and her legs tremble. More, she tried to say. Touch me more. But she was hardly able to breathe, each harsh, sharp inhalation scorching straining lungs, each rushed exhale taking a little moan out with it to echo between them.
Lost in the whirlpool of his gaze, all she knew was the incredible heat of his skin on hers, the ache of need and twists of pleasure writhing over her body.
“And where do you want this tattoo, sweetness?”
She knew how he would react. Already she felt a jolt of power, even before she spoke. “On my breast, just over my heart.”
His face went still, then his eyes closed momentarily and a low sound rumbled in his chest. “Ah damn. You trying to kill me, aren’t you?”
The little bubble of laughter that rose to her lips surprised her. “It wasn’t my intention.”
“But you just might.” He shook his head, tension vibrating off him in waves, the suddenly grim set of his features making her amusement flee. “Don’t think I can help you, sweetness. You come back tomorrow, when Hervé is here. He’s the expert on arcane tats.” A self-mocking smile tilted his lips, but it was the flash of sadness in his eyes that caught her attention. “And he has better self-control than I do.”
Her heart plummeted, and instinctively she tightened her grip on his wrist. “No! I can’t come back. It has to be tonight.”
“Why?”
By tomorrow the Council would have found her and Goddess alone knew what they’d do. Inadvertently, in her search for personal truth, she’d become a menace to everything they held dear. They wouldn’t hesitate to squash her like a bug.
“This is the only time I have.” Maybe the last night of her existence. “If you won’t do it, I’ll have to try to find someone else.” How, she had no idea. Maybe she could chance a translocation spell or two, but the residue would make her so easy to track. She’d be limited to portals, and wasn’t at all sure they weren’t being watched. “Please.”
Indecision flashed over Jakuta’s face, and she couldn’t stop herself from pleading again.
“Please, at least try.”
Letting his hand drop, he broke the contact between his finger and her skin, and instinctively she let go of his wrist. The sense of loss as they separated made her gasp again, and the fear gripping her chest tightened its hold.
There was no way to read the expressions chasing each other across his face. She could only subject herself to his searching gaze and hope he could see how vitally important getting the tattoo was.
Finally he turned away and put the clipboard down on the table with what she thought was a bad-tempered slap.
“All right then, sweetness.” Yeah, there was a decidedly irritable edge to his voice. “I’ll see what I can do, but no promises, you hear?”
“Thank you.” Where the urge to hug him came from, she had no clue, but before she could stop herself, her arms were around his waist, and she was hugging his back. “Thank you.”
He froze, and she did too. The instant she touched him waves of sensation began buffeting her, flooding her, until she thought she might drown in them. Jakuta growled, and the vibrations shot from his back into her breasts, making her shudder with yearning.
By the Goddess.
Her brain was screaming for her to let go, but her arms tightened instead. It was Jakuta who grabbed her wrists and tugged, breaking her grip. Before she could step back he turned so they were once more face-to-face, so close his heat scorched her and his earth-and-wood-smoke scent filled her head, making it impossible to think clearly. Suddenly all she could see was his mouth. Even pulled tight and stern, it looked soft, inviting, made her want to bite the lower lip, trace the upper with her tongue, taste him, drink him until his kiss was all she could feel.
“If you look at me like that, it won’t be a tattoo I’m giving you.”
Seeing his mouth move as he spoke, hearing the rough cadence of his voice made her trembling increase, and it took a moment for his words to actually percolate into her brain. The flush of desire heating her face spiked into embarrassment and she stepped back so quickly she almost stumbled over her own feet.
“Sorry.” It came out a croak, and she realized her throat was so dry she could hardly swallow.
The sound he made couldn’t be classified as a laugh, but it was close. “No need. We’re going to have to get used to touching if you want a tattoo tonight.”
His hand would be on her breast, his face bent close so as to see what he was doing. Those sharp zaps of electricity coming off his skin would enter hers without even the barrier of clothing to mitigate the effect. Just imagining it made her nipples ache and she bit back a moan, had to brace her legs so they wouldn’t give out.
It took a moment for her to find her voice to say, “That’s different, and you know it.”
The laugh that rumbled from his chest arrowed straight into her, making its way to the hot, needy place at the apex of her thighs. “Don’t worry yourself. I’m not the kind of man who jumps a woman without at least buying her dinner first—or giving her a tattoo.” Jakuta winked, but she read the look of promise on his face and her heart leapt. “Come. We’ll go consult the books and see what we can find.”
He was already halfway to the other side of the room before she found the strength to follow, and her mind whirled, trying to put what was happening into perspective.
Somehow, touching the runestone had blown her already weakened emotional barriers away completely. Not surprising then to have these feelings, to want the first man she came into contact with. It was crucial to remember why she was here, not to be sidetracked. There was no time to indulge in an exploration of lust, no matter how fascinating the urges—the man.
Jakuta opened a door at the back of the room and stood waiting for her to catch up. Taking a deep breath, Gràinne lifted her chin and gave him a stern look.
“This is strictly business, okay? Nothing more. I need to get that tattoo tonight, don’t have time to fool around.”
Jakuta quirked one eyebrow, giving her another one of those sexy, intent-filled smiles in return. “Anything you like
, sweetness. Anything you like.”
Immediately her mind was flooded with images of what she thought she might like—forbidden, desperately lusty things—and another wave of heat suffused her face.
Strange now to think that during her time beyond the Veil she’d seen innumerable humans caught in the throes of lust, had observed them dispassionately, without even a hint of curiosity. Now she recalled each moment, the twist of a body as it joined with another, the thrust of a cock between receptive lips, the high keening cry of a woman finding orgasm. She had no memory of actually ever being intimate with a man, yet the sensations writhing inside seemed thrillingly familiar, brought with them cravings she couldn’t deny. Her mouth watered to taste Jakuta’s skin, to hear him groan with need as she teased his body. Her pussy tightened as she imagined his tongue sweeping through the folds, his lips closing over her clitoris, sucking and kissing her to release.
But most of all, she wanted to be beneath his massive body, covered and filled by him, looking up into those swirling, compelling eyes, feeling the storm rising around and inside them, taking them higher and higher…
As though hearing the thoughts, Jakuta laughed softly and repeated, “Anything you like.”
Goddess give me strength.
But somehow Gràinne knew the prayer wouldn’t help. She was the only one who could stave off this tempest of desire.
Following Jakuta down the passageway, she tried not to watch the way he walked, the smooth motion of his strides, the flex and shift of his muscular ass. But each time she glanced away, trying to take in her surroundings, her eyes were drawn back to him like iron to a lodestone. Telling herself it was only the newness of being able to feel, the unfamiliar rush of emotions and sensations, really didn’t seem to help. Everything inside strained toward him, wanting to watch, to touch, to smell and taste him.
Before coming to the Midnight Café all she’d wanted was a chance to find the truth, no matter where it might lead. Now she found herself longing for the one thing she knew she didn’t have—more time to explore this man and the emotions he brought to life in her soul.
Fleeing Fate Page 2