by Cherry Adair
Joubert retaliated with a draw-cut, slicing open Simon’s cheek. He laughed as Simon staggered into the swing, sidestepping the sweep of his blade. “You can’t win, Dom doos.”
“Can,” Simon assured him. “And will.” One lesson he’d learned, and clearly his opponent hadn’t, was that physical mastery, of both the blade and your body, led to a devastating level of physical power. Never bring anger into the fight. None of Simon’s blows fell by accident. Each was as precise and methodical as he was. Each move was calculated. Even under normal circumstances his fighting style was spare and to the point. Now, he dared not waste a second of precious power by grand standing.
Joubert was stronger. Simon fought smarter.
His right hand controlled the degree Simon wanted his sword to rotate around the fulcrum of his left hand. Grounding made it easy for him to withstand Joubert pushing at his sword with his entire weight behind it. He shoved back, and the other wizard stumbled, barely catching his footing.
Joubert’s sword flashed in a power cut, shooting sparks of blood-red as they came together in a thundering clash that lit up the camp as bright as day. Joubert was all over the place. Undisciplined, Simon thought, no control. No. Pissed and unable to control it.
Joubert clearly hadn’t expected the strength of Simon’s powers, crappy as they were at the moment. Never underestimate your enemy. His opponent’s misjudgment wouldn’t last long. But for now it worked to Simon’s benefit, and he took advantage of it. His might be the lesser power, but he was a better swordsman because of his discipline and control. He brought the tip of the heavy sword up in the “boar’s thrust,” a move designed to enter an opponent’s body just above the groin and slice up ward.
Joubert brought his own sword down and blocked the move an inch from his dick. Then, without warning, he disappeared, leaving behind the faint stink of his phosphorescent smog. He took all of his men with him.
His voice came in surround sound. “We’ll meet again, American.”
“Count on it.” Shaken at just how fucking close he’d come to croaking, Simon waited until Joubert’s presence was off his wizard radar before he sank to his knees. “Jesus.” Had to talk to Knight about this power weakness. He couldn’t perform his job if he couldn’t depend on his powers.
The thought scared the shit out of him.
Okay, he thought, getting to his feet and feeling ridiculous for overdramatizing the whole power outage situation. He was a fully trained T-FLAC operative first and foremost. He hadn’t bested Joubert with his wizard powers. He’d bested him with skill.
Fuck. Staring up at the stark white moon beaming down, Simon ran his fingers through his hair. He’d been lucky. Damn lucky. It was a hard pill to swallow, but if Joubert had chosen powers instead of swords he wouldn’t be standing here right now. And that was fact.
Simon needed to get in to see Knight for a fast tune-up. In the meantime, he wanted to get to Kess as quickly as possible and take her out of range. Then he needed to go to work to figure out the connection between such a powerful wizard and the massacre.
Simon teleported the hell out of there.
He found himself sitting in a cornfield in Kansas.
Needless to say, he’d missed his mark. Badly.
“Fuck.”
Kess. Not Kansas.
Standing, he brushed hay and other debris from his jeans. The only thing more irritating than his flickering powers was knowing that a few more minutes of battling Joubert and he’d have had no option but to shimmer out of range. Would’ve been a first. Simon didn’t like running from confrontation any more than he liked losing a fight.
The last time that had happened he was seventeen and Alex Stone had knocked him on his ass. Alex had just discovered his ability to temporal accelerate, and taken it for a test drive. Unfortunately, Simon had been the guinea pig and ended up needing ten stitches to close the gaping wound on the back of his head.
With his confidence a little shaken, Simon concentrated hard on Kess, pinpointing her exact location in his mind, then shimmered, hoping he’d end up at the mouth of the cave and not the mouth of the Nile.
Despite the previous day’s horrific images, despite the night’s interesting observations, and despite lying on the hard and rocky ground, Kess had slept like the proverbial baby. The previous evening had grown a little chilly, and keeping her eye on the man with the gun, she’d crawled into the sleeping bag and snuggled beneath the lightweight down right after choking down the burnt steak and a bite of barely cooked potato. Four minutes after she closed her eyes she was asleep.
She woke the next morning none the worse for wear and, yawning, sat up and stretched her arms over her head. She was alone. By the slant of light trickling in through the cave it was still early, barely past dawn. But she felt refreshed. Refreshed and brimming with questions. Like, where was Simon?
She’d never forget the relief crew; their images were forever burned into her mind. Getting back to Quinisela to do her job was imperative—the families had to be notified, she’d need to write up a press release. The president would be devastated at the loss of life in a country he was trying to unite.
Tossing back the sleeping bag, Kess shot a penetrating look at the man backlit by weak early morning sunlight as he strolled inside. She got to her feet, holding the sleeping bag in front of her, almost like a shield. But the rapid beat of her heart at seeing him wasn’t fear. It was the familiar tingle of excitement he ignited inside her. That zing of awareness that elevated her heartbeat and made her breasts feel fuller. Sexual awareness to the max. Just because she felt it didn’t mean she had to act on it, but her heightened awareness and her level of anticipation just looking at Simon felt as good, if not better, than a manic ride on a roller coaster.
“Simon?”
He cocked a brow. “Expecting someone else?”
Ah. Kess carefully folded the sleeping bag, then held it over her arm as she drew in a deep breath trying to figure out where to start. No matter her own belief in her observations, saying it out loud was going to sound ridiculous.
The air still smelled faintly of the burnt meat she’d consumed last night. Her silent companion hadn’t eaten anything. “Now that you mention it…”
“Mention what?”
She scanned his face, then frowned as she noticed the dried blood around a two-inch slash on his lean cheek. “You’re hurt.”
“It’s nothing. Mention what?”
How had he cut himself? Just by going outside to pee? Had he slipped and fallen down the rocky hillside? He didn’t look clumsy. In fact he looked…determined. And extremely focused. On her. The way he was looking at her this morning made all her girl parts sit up and take notice. Her brain tripped and tumbled over the erotic images that suddenly filled her head. She squeezed the sleeping bag, pressing it against her suddenly-erect nipples. God, he was potent.
“Kess?”
She blinked. “Er…yes. I’d like to ask you a few questions, and I’d appreciate honest answers.” Of course as a publicist she knew that people always had an agenda. Truth was irrelevant and open to interpretation. Hence the birth of her specialty, media spin. But media spin wasn’t where her mind was at the moment.
Her skin felt hot and too small as she noticed him looking at her mouth. Her mouth was dry, but she didn’t want to lick her lips, or chew her lip, or do anything else to draw attention to her own acute awareness of him looking at her looking at him. The cave wasn’t that big, or wide, and was fairly shallow. He walked toward her with slow, deliberate steps. Reason shouted for her to run like hell. A deer running from the powerful lion. Her heart started thumping hard against her ribs as he got closer, and closer…
“Do you have a twin?” It was the only logical explanation. She pressed the sleeping bag harder against her chest. Could he see how hard her heart was thumping? Could he tell that she was having a hard time concentrating on what the hell she was saying?
“I did.” His eyes gleamed hot as he looked at
her. “A sister. Theresa died with our parents when we were seven. Why?”
“Not a sister.” Kess licked dry lips. A quick swipe. Simon’s eyes flared dark green flames. “A—a brother.”
“No brother. Twin or otherwise.”
“Damn.”
“Damn?”
“Someone was here—Was it a hologram? No. I touched him. It. Damn it. I have no idea—Who or what are you?”
He paused mid-step. “What are you talking about?”
She was so discombobulated by the way he was looking at her that Kess could hardly think straight, let alone talk. But she couldn’t let this…this thing interfere with her job. Simon was the president’s friend. But something weird had happened here last night. Something weird and confusing, and hell yes, a little bit scary.
“Last night,” she said quickly, because she wanted to have her arms around Simon instead of the sleeping bag. She’d like to have Simon’s arms around her on the sleeping bag, under the sleeping bag—Get a grip!
“And before you attempt to bullshit me.” Kess backed up a couple of steps as he advanced. “Let me recap what I know. Simon Blackthorne with an e, that would be you, finger-combs his hair to the right, is left-handed, wears his watch on his right wrist, and rarely smiles. With me so far? My babysitter last night, while looking a lot like you, wasn’t you.”
She trusted herself on this, because while she’d found him deliciously sexy, and very, very appealing, she’d not had this level of lust factor with the man she’d been with last night. Taking another step back, she came up against the wall. The rough rock scraped her back through her T-shirt. “Everything was reversed, and his hair and skin were a few shades paler than yours. His eyes weren’t quite as green either.”
Kess dragged in a shaking breath, because he was still walking toward her like a lion stalking his prey. His eyes, filled with pure sexual speculation, narrowed, skimming her body like a physical caress.
In Kess’s mind he was already tasting her, touching her. And her body responded accordingly. Still, she stood her ground while her entire body pulsed and vibrated with longing. “I don’t have a freaking clue how you did whatever you did. But whoever or whatever was here with me last night wasn’t you. He was your mirror image. Your twin—But…Oh, and there was that little disappearing, can-see-right-through-you thing that was extremely disconcerting.” Downplaying that little fact had allowed her to sleep last night.
“You’re very observant.” He was right in front of her, only a few feet away.
“Aren’t I though? Well?”
He cupped her cheek. Oh, God, she was going to melt into an embarrassing puddle at his feet. The light was behind him, casting his face into shadow. She smelled his skin. Something clean under the smell of the natural soil around here. A little clean male sweat that made her heart pound even harder. The cut, high on his cheek, was deep. He probably needed stitches…
With his free hand he plucked the sleeping bag from her nerveless fingers, tossing it aside. He reached out to cradle her jaw, then tilted up her face. His thumb brushed gently across the laceration under her chin. “This hurt?”
She shook her head. His fingers slid up the side of her throat, his eyes so close she could see herself reflected there.
“It’s complicated,” he murmured huskily.
“Most interesting things—” he was combing his fingers through her hair over her ear. The sensation of his touch was almost like getting a mild electric shock. It zipped through Kess, making her lose her train of thought. She couldn’t seem to breathe properly. “Ah—are.”
His expression was purely carnal as he murmured softly, his mouth inches from hers. “We need to get back to Quinisela.”
“Well, yeah.” Are you ever going to kiss me, she thought, heart pounding as his shirt brushed her chest. Her nipples ached to be touched and she leaned into him a little. “But unless you can perform more magic and produce some sort of vehicle it’s a heck of a long walk.”
“I can perform more magic.” He cupped the back of her head and leaned down another frustrating inch—“And we have a chopper waiting.”
His breath fanned her lips. “Seriously?”
“Seriously.” His eyes blazed the hot green of the inside of a flame as he curved his hand around the base of her throat where her pulse leapt manically. “Ready?”
Ready to rip your clothes off and push you down on that sleeping bag, or ready to leave? Thank God there’d been a brush and toothpaste in the pack. Incapable of dancing this dance one more second, Kess grabbed the front of his shirt in her fist. “Are you going to kiss me or not?”
Six
Hell, yes, he was going to kiss her.
She slid her arms around his waist, pulling Simon the last few inches to close the gap between them. As if he needed help. Hunger flared higher. He braced his hand on the rough stone, protecting the back of her head as he leaned in, tilting her face so her lips were on target.
Kess didn’t yield to the kiss, she met it head-on as he pressed flush against her so that they touched from breast to groin. Dipping his head, he met her soft mouth in a hungry kiss.
Hungry? Starving. Hell, call it what it was. Voracious.
Clawing, insatiable need roared through his body as she parted her lips and welcomed him inside with a sweep of her tongue and the erotic scrape of her teeth.
Kissing Kess was like dying of thirst in the desert, then falling into a deep cool well. She tasted of minty toothpaste.
Her body molded to his as their tongues teased and explored, straining against each other to get that quarter inch closer. He felt it as their hearts picked up the same out-of-control rhythm, and he tightened his arms around her slender body, drawing her impossibly closer.
Out of breath, they separated for a second that felt like an eternity. Then he kissed her again.
They came apart for a second, both breathing hard.
Cheeks flushed a deep coral, Kess splayed her hand on his chest. “I can feel your heart,” she whispered, her voice thick and sexy, her gray eyes silvered with passion. “It’s pounding as fast as mine. Feel.” She took his hand and placed it on her soft breast and Simon automatically adjusted his hold to cradle the soft orb in his palm. He swept his thumb across the hard peak of her nipple and felt her shudder.
His heart pounded like a jungle drum. Unable to resist her, he caught her mouth, kissing her again, without holding anything of himself back.
Adrenaline, desire, hell—the knowledge he was alive, filled him to the brim. Logically he knew that the desire to fuck wasn’t uncommon after combat. But desire this strong? She was oil to his fire.
He wanted to take her. Right here on the stony ground. Instead, Simon pressed her tender body between himself and the unyielding rock at her back as he ran his tongue along her teeth, raking the slight imperfection of a crooked eyetooth like a touchstone. He wanted her to cry his name as she came apart in his arms.
He spread his fingers at the base of her throat. Not to hold her in place, but to feel the wild beating of her pulse beneath his palm. He stroked the smooth skin on the underside of her jaw with his thumb as he ravished the slick, sweet interior of her mouth. Kess wrapped her leg around his hips, urging him against her body. God, she was responsive. Wild in his arms.
His dick was rock-hard. Kess moved against him, but it wasn’t enough. For either of them. Simon pressed his straining erection to the juncture of her thighs as he kissed her deeply over and over, until they had to break apart to suck in air. Then they went back at it.
She whimpered, running her hands the breadth of his shoulders as she tried to crawl inside his skin. Digging her nails into his scalp, she rocked against him.
Tearing her mouth from under his, Kess whispered, “Wait…”
Simon brought his mouth to her neck as he felt the shudders ripping through her. Nibbling her velvety earlobe he whispered, “Let go,” then sank his teeth lightly into the damp curve of her throat as he rocked against her.
Fingers still buried in his hair, she shuddered, then with a soft, wild cry came apart in his arms. Her forehead dropped to his chest, as he wrapped both arms around her, holding her tightly against his own unsatisfied need. Christ. That was fucking incredible. She was incredible.
“Sleeping bag…” she muttered thickly. “More.”
If only. He should put her down, but the slight heft of her ass beneath his arm was heaven. “Have to get back to town.”
“I know.” Her warm breath seeped through his shirt and she rubbed her cheek against his chest. “I’m limp.” Her arms tightened around his neck. “Just a few more minutes?”
“Can’t.”
She sighed, but didn’t let go. “Can you carry me again?”
Simon smiled against her silky hair. “No, this time you’re on your own.”
“Damn.” She lifted her head, cheeks flushed, eyes bright. He watched as she took a moment to switch gears; lowering her leg from around his hips was a wrench for both of them. “Okay. What do we take, and what do we leave?”
“Leave everything.”
“Right.” Glancing around, she moved out of his loose hold. “This has been one of the oddest experiences of my life.”
“Never been kissed before?” he asked mildly, leading the way outside. He was surprised at how hard his heart was still thundering—how could she not hear it? All that from a kiss, and heavy petting that had brought her eyes to slits of desire. He swallowed, his mouth ridiculously dry. And he was about to walk away as if he weren’t choking on his own need.
“A few times.” She paused behind him and he glanced over his shoulder to catch her stretching her arms over her head, her slender body arched. Her peaked nipples pressed against the front of her T-shirt, proof that she was still as aroused as he was, yet she had made no demands, nor had she had any complaints.