She glanced over her shoulder at him. “Moira didn’t break the railing, Ryan. That happened because you lost your temper. Weren’t you even subliminally aware of the wind in the room?”
“Yes, but I thought it was . . . I don’t know what I thought it was,” he stated, frowning in puzzlement.
“That’s because you were letting yourself be controlled by anger, so you weren’t thinking at all.” She set the kettle on the stove and switched on the burner. Then she turned and leaned her hips against the counter.
Crossing her arms over her chest, she continued, “You now have the powers of a warlock, which means you also have their idiosyncrasies. When a warlock gets mad, his anger manifests itself as a breeze. The angrier he gets, the stronger it becomes. If he lets himself become too angry that breeze can actually reach hurricane force. A warlock is able to contain it so that it doesn’t cause damage, but you aren’t trained to do that.”
“In other words, when I’m mad, I’m dangerous,” he said, shoving his hands into his pants pockets.
“Very dangerous,” she agreed.
“How do I learn to contain this . . . breeze?”
“It’s a matter of self-control. When you feel yourself getting angry, you should try to calm yourself or turn the anger inward. That will keep the breeze from surfacing. If, however, you can’t control your temper, then you must focus entirely on the person with whom you’re angry. The breeze will then center around the two of you, and it won’t cause any damage to the surrounding area.”
He pulled a hand out of his pocket and raked it through his hair. It was difficult to believe what she was saying, but then he recalled that after the car accident, he had experienced the “breeze” phenomenon with Lucien. At the time, he tried to blame it on the open car door, but he’d sensed that Lucien was causing it.
“Are there any other of these . . . idiosyncrasies I should know about?”
A strange expression flickered across her face. Before he could figure out what it was, she pushed away from the sink and walked to the refrigerator.
Opening the door, she leaned down to look inside, saying, “There’s nothing else that’s physically dangerous. Unless you’re casting spells, of course. You may have the power to do that, but you don’t have the knowledge. So, thankfully, we don’t have to worry about that aspect. Would it be okay if I fix French toast? Or would you prefer to have lunch?”
He regarded her narrowly. She was wrong about his ability to cast spells. He had spent the entire night reading the journals in the repository. Though most of them contained nothing more than an inventory of the objects, some of the older journals listed some very interesting spells. He had also obtained some spell-casting knowledge while he’d been masquerading as Aric.
Instinct told him, however, that he should keep that information from her. Besides, he was more interested in knowing why she was avoiding his question. What warlock peculiarities didn’t she want him to know about?
“Forget the food, Shana. I’d rather you told me about the quirks of being a warlock.”
“One of those ‘quirks’ is that a warlock must eat regularly to keep his powers in balance. Missing one meal can cause him a lot of problems. So you must eat. Do you want French toast or something else?”
“You don’t need to go to a lot of work for me. A bowl of cereal will be fine.
She straightened and shook her head. “Your powers are new, Ryan. You need something more substantial than cereal to align them. And don’t worry about the work. I like to cook.”
“Then French toast is fine.”
While she gathered the necessary ingredients, he sat down at the table. He waited until she was preparing the egg mixture, before saying, “Tell me more about being a warlock. I need to watch my temper, and I need to eat regularly. What else?”
She shrugged uneasily. “Warlocks have dozens of unique characteristics. It would be easier if we address them as they arise.”
“Shana, you’re keeping something from me,” he said impatiently. “What is it?”
She looked at him, her eyes widened in innocence. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
He scowled at her. “Don’t play games with me. I might not be able to read your mind at the moment, but I know when someone is avoiding my questions. There’s something you aren’t telling me, and I want to know what it is.”
“It’s nothing that can’t wait,” she said with an exasperated sigh. “You need to eat, and then you need to rest. You’ve been up all night. You must be exhausted.”
“I’m a doctor. I’m used to going without sleep. Now, tell me whatever it is that you’re hiding from me.”
“Let’s eat first.”
“Damnit, Shana! Tell me!” he exploded.
Instantly a breeze began to blow through the room. It was strong enough to rattle the dishes on the kitchen counter where Shana was working. She quickly backed away and gazed at him in wariness. He cursed inwardly. If he hoped to get her cooperation, he had to get his temper under control.
He drew in a calming breath. The breeze quieted, and he drew in another. By the time he released it, the breeze had stopped.
“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have lost my temper,” he said when she continued to regard him cautiously. “It’s just that I know there’s something you aren’t telling me, and your refusal to do so is driving me crazy. So, please, tell me what it is.”
Staring at some unseen spot above his head she crossed her arms over her chest and shifted nervously from one foot to the other. It wasn’t auspicious body language, and he began to feel damn edgy himself. He wanted to order her to start talking. Instead, he curbed his tension by drumming his fingers against his thigh.
“It’s rather complicated,” she finally said, glancing toward him and then quickly away. “I’m not sure how to explain it to you so you’ll understand.”
“I’m a doctor, Shana. I spent years learning to understand complicated subjects.”
“But you’re talking about the human body. This is more a psychological aberration among my race, although it does present itself in a physical form.”
“I’ve had plenty of psychology courses, too. I’m sure I’ll be able to understand what you’re saying. If I need something clarified, I’ll ask you to explain it in more detail.”
“I don’t know, Ryan,” she murmured, frowning at him uncertainly. “I’m afraid that you’re just going to get angry again.”
“If I do, then I’ll control my temper,” he said, again drumming his fingers against his thigh. He was becoming so exasperated with her that he wanted to grab her and shake her. Why wouldn’t she just tell him what he wanted to know? “And I just proved I can control it.”
She still looked uncertain, but she said, “I guess I might as well tell you, because come nightfall, you’re going to find out about it anyway. At least you’ll have some time to get used to the idea.”
“What’s going to happen come nightfall?” he asked, instantly on guard.
She drew her arms tighter across her chest. “Do you remember me telling you about our procreation problems?”
“Yes,” he answered hesitantly, deciding that he already didn’t like the turn the conversation was taking.
“Well, when a witch and warlock mate, things get a little . . . crazy between them.”
“Crazy?” Instinctively, he raised his hand to the spot on his chest where the amulet rested, touching it uneasily. In all the upheaval of turning into Aric, he’d forgotten her claim that the charm had entered them into a common law marriage. Of course, even if she believed it was true, there was no legal basis for such a claim. They hadn’t even had intercourse, and as far as he was concerned, they never would. The last thing in the world he wanted was a wife, common law or otherwise.
She nodded. “Once they’
ve mated, they can’t keep their hands off each other.”
“That sounds normal for a newly married couple.”
“Yes, but . . .”
“But?” he prompted, growing more uneasy, as she again stared at the unseen spot above his head.
“This is an uncontrollable urge to procreate, Ryan, and it’s even stronger for a warlock than it is for a witch. The moment the sun goes down . . .” She glanced toward him, and then quickly away. “Well, you get the picture.”
“Are you trying to tell me that when the sun goes down, I’m going to turn into some kind of a sex maniac?” he said incredulously.
She returned her gaze to his and stared at him for a long moment. Then she said, “I’m afraid so, but don’t feel bad. So will I.”
Chapter Eleven
The Lovers Card
Struggle Between Sacred
and Profane Love
RYAN LEANED BACK in his chair and eyed Shana skeptically. What she’d just said sounded ludicrous. Of course, so had just about everything else she’d told him so far, and all of it had been true.
But uncontrollable sexual urges? Involuntarily, he dropped his gaze to the front of her T-shirt. The fabric clung provocatively to her full breasts. As he stared at the faint outline of her nipples, he was suddenly hit with an overpowering need to strip her clothes off her.
This is nuts! I’m only responding to her because of her stupid prediction.
Unfortunately, that didn’t curb the feelings moving within him. He longed to see her naked. He yearned to touch her body—to revel in the softness of her skin. He craved to feel what his touch did to her, and then he would show her what her touch did to him. And now that he had a warlock’s power, he could do that and more.
Oh, God, yes. So much more!
He dragged his gaze back to her face. Her expression told him she was aware of his stirring desire, and the heated look in her eyes said she was willing—and ready—to succumb to him.
He might have succumbed himself if she hadn’t chosen that moment to say, “See. The urge is already beginning to surface. In a few more hours, you won’t be able to think of anything else, and it will happen every night until we’ve achieved procreation.”
“I’ll admit that I find you attractive, Shana, but I sure as hell can control myself,” he declared, irritated that he had fallen so easily into her trap.
“Maybe you can control yourself as a mortal, but you’re now functioning as a warlock—a newly mated warlock,” she rebutted.
“You gave me a damn necklace. That does not make us married,” he said impatiently. “Even if it did, there’s a very big hole in your uncontrollable lust theory.”
She eyed him dubiously. “A hole?”
He nodded. “You gave me the necklace last night. If what you’re saying is true, then why wasn’t I hot to trot then? It sure as hell was dark outside.”
“You had given me the sleeping potion, Ryan. My libido was dormant, and because it was, so was yours.”
“That’s absurd. A man’s libido is not dictated by a woman’s.”
“As I keep reminding you, I am a witch, not a woman, and at this point, you are a warlock, not a man. Witches and warlocks function quite differently from your race, particularly when they’ve mated.”
“Oh, come on,” he drawled derisively. “Sex is sex, regardless of the race.”
She looked as if she would disagree, but then she shrugged and said, “If you say so.”
It was such an overt attempt at humoring him that his temper flared. When he realized the breeze was again surfacing, he drew in a frustrated breath. He didn’t like having his emotions so readily apparent.
Forcing his temper back into check, he said, “I know that you believe what you’re saying, Shana, but you told me your race is in danger of extinction. I’m sure that from childhood it has been stressed that you must procreate or the race will die. This aberration, as you call it, has nothing to do with being a witch or a warlock. It’s a simple case of brainwashing, and since I haven’t been subjected to it, I won’t be affected by it.”
“If you say so,” she repeated, pushing away from the counter and returning to her food preparations. “But don’t get upset if you find out differently.”
He wanted to continue arguing with her, but he knew she wouldn’t listen to him. Exasperated, he reassured himself that come nightfall she would find out that he was quite capable of controlling himself.
So why did he have the nagging feeling that the moment the sun went down, he should lock himself in a room and throw away the key?
As Shana watched Ryan start on his third helping of French toast, she worriedly mulled over their conversation about the sexual urges that would overwhelm them both come nightfall. Regardless of what he said, she knew they were going to end up in bed. She also knew that when he lost control he was not going to be happy about it. Indeed, he’d probably be furious, and she heaved an inward sigh. This was not how she had expected her mating night to turn out.
But that was the least of her problems, she reminded herself, staring worriedly at her own plate. At some point, Lucien and Ariel would stop by to check on them. How was she going to hide Ryan’s transformation from Lucien?
“Why don’t you just call them and tell them we’re fine? Then they won’t have any reason to stop by,” Ryan suggested.
Startled, Shana jerked her head up. “When did your ability to read my mind return?”
“Just this very instant. Why?”
She glanced toward the window. The position of the sun against the windowpane told her it was shortly after one. Though his powers were gradually growing again, he shouldn’t have been able to pick up on her thoughts without intense concentration. Since he was, it could only mean . . .
“Mean what?” he demanded suspiciously when she didn’t complete the thought.
She returned her attention to him, trying to decide whether or not she should answer.
“You had better answer me,” he said, scowling at her.
“And what are you going to do if I don’t?” She knew she shouldn’t taunt him, but his attitude was becoming as overbearing as a true warlock.
“I’ll make you tell me.”
“And just how are you going to do that?” she challenged.
He didn’t answer. Instead, his eyes began to glow, and as they slowly lowered to her breasts, she watched, transfixed. He was going to try to mentally seduce her into answering him! She wasn’t surprised. With their mating night just ahead of them, both their minds were subconsciously focused on sex. That was the first weapon either of them would use in a confrontation.
She opened her mouth to object to his tactics. Before she could utter a word, she felt his hands slip beneath her T-shirt and glide upward.
This isn’t happening, she told herself firmly, when she felt him cup her breasts. It’s all a fantasy. I can see him sitting across the table from me, and he hasn’t moved a muscle.
That didn’t stop her from gasping as she felt his thumbs stroke over her nipples, causing them to tighten in excitement. She had to make him stop this!
Why, Shana? Don’t you like me touching you?
He didn’t give her an opportunity to respond. As he began to lightly pinch one nipple, he trailed his other hand seductively down her abdomen. When he finally slid his hand between her thighs, cupping her intimately, she automatically stiffened in anticipation.
What do you want me to do, Shana?
I want you to stop this right now!
Liar.
He began to stroke her, and sweet, hot desire swept through her. With a soft groan, she closed her eyes.
Tell me what I want to know, Shana.
No! I won’t let you force me to tell you through sex!
As he centered h
is ministrations on the area surrounding her clitoris, she caught her breath, no longer able to think. All she could do was respond to the explosive passion propelling her toward climax. When she reached the brink of completion, however, his hand stilled.
Ryan! Don’t torture me like this! Please! She hated that she was pleading, but she was unable to stop herself.
Tell me what I want to know, he ordered again.
Urgently, she rocked against his hand, but she couldn’t re-create the magical friction she needed to reach fulfillment. How could he leave her hanging like this when he knew how badly she needed release?
If you tell me what I want to know, I’ll give you what you want. He stroked his hand against her once, as if to prove what he was saying.
Desire coiled tightly inside her. When she found herself on the verge of giving in to him, she opened her eyes. He was sitting across from her, his hands folded on the table and his eyes glowing brightly. She knew that without her powers she didn’t stand a chance against him. He was making a bid for control, and he would continue to mentally seduce her until she would tell him anything he wanted to know.
Indignation stirred inside her. He was her mate, and he was not going to manipulate her with sex—even fantasy sex. If he wanted to play sexual games, he’d met his match, and she was going to prove it to him.
Clearly he was still reading her mind, because when she started to stand, she felt his mouth close over her nipple. When his hand resumed its exquisite torment, every nerve—every cell—in her body began to vibrate with need. Somehow, she found the fortitude to climb to her feet, purposely keeping her mind blank. As she walked around the table toward him, he ceased his mental seduction and watched her warily
When she reached his side, he looked up at her, and she said, “There’s an old saying in Sanctuary that applies to this situation. What’s good for the warlock is good for the witch.”
Before he could respond, she caught his face in her hands and lowered her mouth to his. He kept his lips closed firmly against hers, assuring her that he had no intention of giving her the upper hand. Determined to break through his wall of control, she kissed him with all the desire he had aroused in her.
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