by Ann Gimpel
Elliott trotted by where she crouched. He moved fast enough, she let herself hope she’d avoided discovery. Listening in on the elders, particularly after they’d shielded their conversation against prying ears, would surely earn her a session with the bullwhip. If not far worse.
For long, tense moments, she thought she’d pulled it off. She was just starting to breathe again when Elliott’s heavy tread first slowed and then stopped.
Shit! Crap!
“Become me,” her wolf piped up. “We can knock him down and be gone before he knows what hit him.”
“We can’t shift that fast.”
Magic, shockingly strong, probed her perimeter. The gig was up. Elliott might not know it was her, but he realized something was next to Michael’s wagon. Something that had no business there.
More power pushed against her invisibility spell, growing in intensity until he punched through. His magic ceased abruptly.
“Tairin!” ricocheted through her mind. “I know it’s you. Don’t bother denying it. Get over here. Now.”
She rose to her feet, letting go of her spell as she moved to where he stood twenty yards away. She’d be damned if she’d cower, so she straightened her shoulders and stared him right in the eyes.
“Follow me,” he ground out.
“Why should I?” she countered.
He spoke into her mind again. “You have two choices. Either I call Michael, tell him what you were about, and let him decide what to do with you.”
“Or?” She feigned bravado she was far from feeling.
“We go someplace more private, and you tell me what the hell you were doing listening in on the elders’ discussion.” He narrowed his eyes to slits, but switched to speaking aloud. “I might still have to tell Michael. Just so we’re clear about that. I owe him allegiance. As do you.”
Tairin jerked her chin toward thick timber. “Lead out.”
Elliott shook his head. “Nope. You first. I’ll be right behind you. And I warn you, if you try anything, I’ll flatten you with magic and ask questions later.”
She made her way to the grove of pines and firs where she’d been earlier. It was starting to drizzle, so she pulled her hood over her head. Tairin took her time as she worked on organizing which blend of truth might fly better. He’d be able to sniff out falsehoods right away.
His energy pounded against her back as she retraced her steps from earlier. She picked out anger, disbelief, and oddly enough, disappointment. Where was that coming from?
Tairin ducked beneath a low hanging limb and turned to face Elliott. It was dark, but her shifter blood meant she saw quite well in low light conditions. Elliott’s dark brows were drawn into a thick, disapproving line.
“Talk and talk fast, sister.”
The sizzle of power surrounded her, and she recognized a truth casting. “Was that really necessary?”
“What do you think?” His voice was low, tight with something she couldn’t interpret. “I find you swaddled in invisibility spells right outside Michael’s wagon. You were obviously listening in. I want to know why.”
“That’s fair.” She let go of her earlier intention of weaving a tale about idle curiosity mixed with boredom. Opening her eyes wide, she netted him with her gaze, trying her hardest not to pay attention to his high forehead, square jaw, and thick, curly hair that almost begged her to sink her hands into it.
“Come on, Tairin.” He sounded exasperated. “Talk or you won’t leave me any choices. What are you? A Nazi spy?”
Her mouth dropped open. “Awk. Jesus Christ! Oh, hell no.” She bristled. “I have eyes and ears. I see what’s going on about us. If you must have the truth, I was thinking about leaving, setting out on my own because I could hide myself better that way.”
The edges of his magic probed her again. Along with it, his scent rose, tickling her nostrils with bay rum and piquant vanilla. She couldn’t help herself, she breathed deep, inhaling the maleness of him.
His power jabbed her when he delved deeper. She rubbed her forehead. “Ouch. Surely that’s more than enough. You must’ve picked up truth in my words.”
“I did.” Without warning, he closed the distance between them and clasped her head between his hands, pushing her hood back onto her shoulders. Rain pounded from the sky, soaking her.
The intense nearness of him made her knees weak, but she struggled, trying to get away. In all her years with the Rom, the only one who’d touched her had been that first fortuneteller, and the woman had a kind heart. She hadn’t suspected a thing, and her touch was aimed at healing, not peeling back the layers of a secret Tairin had guarded for years.
“Stop!” She writhed in his grip.
His scent intensified, and the air around them turned silvery, glistening against the raindrops. Before he could dig deep enough to discover what she was, she wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled his mouth atop hers. The touch of his lips set fire to her blood, and she tightened her hold on him, kissing him as if the fate of the world rested on never letting go. Desire hot enough to set her heart racing sent sensation spilling through her.
After the briefest of hesitations, he buried his hands in her hair and sank his tongue inside her mouth. Something about the way he fell headlong into her embrace made her suspect he’d imagined kissing her just like this.
Whatever works. If this keeps him from unraveling my secrets, it’s a small price to pay.
But she was deluding herself. She couldn’t make love with him without telling him what she was. He’d never forgive her. More importantly, she’d never forgive herself.
His cock swelled against her belly, rigid with need. What would he look like? Taste like? She ached to wrap a hand around that hardness and drag him inside her body.
Reluctantly, she tore her mouth from his and let go of him. “Sorry,” she managed through panting breaths. “I don’t know what got into me.” She stole a quick glance upward through lowered lids before adding, “I—I’m a maiden. Not a harlot.”
“I know.” His voice throbbed with yearning. “But you’re right that this isn’t a good idea. Not with all the problems we face.”
She wasn’t sure whether to agree, so she held onto a wary silence. Where would this go next?
He let go of her head. “Your magic is strong. As strong as any Rom I’ve ever come across. Yet you’re not full blood.”
She licked her swollen lips, anxious to change the subject to something other than her power. “I could help you.”
“With what?”
She rotated one hand in a circle. “That plan you described. My magic is potent, and it would complement yours since I’m female.”
“Hold on.” He shook his head. “I was trolling for men. Women don’t go to war.”
“The hell they don’t.” She shook wet hair out of her eyes. Annoyance scoured her nerves, and she stuck out her chin. “Try me. If I don’t pass muster, I’ll either join the women and sew doilies, or more likely, I’ll slip away and wage my own mutiny against the Reich.”
His chiseled lips, lips she was having a hell of a hard time resisting, twitched into a smile. “You’re on, woman. Feel like a ride?”
“Where are we going?”
“Somewhere we can plan our first offensive.”