Spellbound

by Amber Carew

  "You look tired."

  It sounded like an accusation rather than a concerned comment. She glanced toward him and noticed his fingers clamped tightly around the book, which belied his otherwise relaxed stance.

  "Did Randalph keep you busy?"

  She sighed. Just what she needed. Nyte in a storm of jealousy, grilling her.

  "You mean did he chase me around the couch all evening? No, nothing like that."

  She flung her arm across her eyes, primarily to block the light, but a little to hide her irritation.

  "Lucinda?" His voice had lost its domineering tone, replaced with a gentle note of concern. "Are you all right?"

  "I’m fine. As you said, I’m just tired."

  She heard a slight creak, telling her Nyte had risen from his chair. She could feel him moving closer. A second later, she felt the heat of him very close, then the light touch of his hands on her shoulders. As his fingers gently manipulated the muscles of her neck and upper back, warm soothing energy seeped into her, releasing one kind of tension, but triggering another. She felt it coil inside her, like a snake ready to strike.

  She sat up, needing a moment to calm her confused physical reactions, and Nyte shifted into position behind her. He stroked the length of her back, generating an annoying arousal of sensations: melting warmth, mounting excitement, and yearning deep in the pit of her stomach.

  But try as she might, she couldn’t force herself to move out of reach. His touch felt wonderful and she didn’t want him to stop. A persistent part of her insisted a back rub would revive her sagging reserve of energy.

  So what about the overactive hormones surging through her?

  Ignore them, that persistent part urged.

  His hair brushed against the side of her neck as he leaned forward and whispered in her ear. "I missed you."

  At the sensation of his breath swirling into her ear, she sucked in a deep breath. Before she could decide how something on the edge of tickling could feel so intensely sensual, his lips nuzzled her neck, and another jolt of hormones spurted through her. The fine hairs along her spine flicked upright, like soldiers snapping to attention.

  Nyte certainly commanded her full attention.

  He stroked her neck with his fingertips on one side and nuzzled with his lips on the other.

  Surrounded. His sensual onslaught had her ready to fall before the battle had even begun.

  She turned to face him, drawing her sensitized neck out of the target zone. "Nyte, I--"

  Oops, tactical error. His lips engaged hers in a gentle persuasion.

  Remembering the last time he’d kissed her and what had followed, she knew she should pull away, but her breasts ached for his touch, her nipples tightening to hard buds. A throbbing began low in her vagina, desperately screaming for him to ease it.

  The tip of his tongue traced the inside of her lips and the thought burned away entirely with the heat of her need. Instead, she surrendered, sliding her arms around his neck, and concentrated on enjoying the full effect of his mouth on hers.

  His arm slipped under her legs and he picked her up. How he knew where he was going as he carried her up the stairs and along the hallway, she wasn’t sure. She wouldn’t be able to navigate a straight line with the delicious confusion of sensations interfering with her internal compass--although it didn’t work that well at the best of times.

  Every cell in her body perked to life as he eased her to her feet, never breaking the contact of their lips. Her breasts tightened as they traveled the length of his hard, broad chest, his textured wool sweater stimulating her nipples to hard peaks. Her knees grew weak as her thighs pressed against his.

  Once she stood more or less on her own, he shifted his hands to her shoulders and drew his face from hers. Moonlight from the window down the hall glittered in his midnight eyes.

  "Lucinda, tell me you want me."

  "I want you." The words--husky and filled with desire--escaped before she realized what she was saying.

  He smiled then kissed her again. Short. Sweet. Drugging. As he stared into her eyes, her lips burned with the need to join with his once more.

  She ran her hands along his shoulders, reveling in the feel of his strong muscles. She was becoming totally addicted to this man’s effect on her senses.

  She hadn’t lied when she’d said she wanted him. In fact, he’d become a craving she could barely control.

  The realization struck that if she didn’t control it, it would control her. A chill quivered the length of her spine. He would control her.

  Then his lips captured hers again.

  "Lucinda. Tell me you want to make love with me." He cradled her face in his hands, a look of deep longing in his eyes. "Invite me to your bed."

  She clung to his shoulders. "I want you to...." She heard the words trembling from her mouth. She licked her lips. "I need...."

  Need? Good heavens, he was like a drug, and she was turning into a junky.

  Addicted to love.

  But it wasn’t love. It was lust. And she would not let it control her.

  "No." She shook her head, a little too vigorously. "No, I can’t." She slipped out of his arms.

  "Lucinda, wait."

  She shoved open the bedroom door, then slipped inside. As soon as it clicked shut behind her--putting a barrier safely between her and the man who controlled her senses--she leaned against the door, waiting for the frantic pace of her breathing to slow. She could sense Nyte on the other side, so close she could almost touch him. She flattened her hand against the wood, her fingers aching to touch his warm skin instead. Her eyelids closed and she searched deep inside herself for the strength to keep control of her riotous desires.

  The strength to keep control of herself.

  * * * *

  Leaning against the door, Nyte dragged in deep breaths as he tried to calm his pounding heart. Damn, but he wanted her. Life with Lucinda was never boring, but it certainly could be frustrating. He didn’t know how long he could go on reaching the brink and then pulling back.

  As long as she needs you to, his heart insisted.

  He just hoped she’d give in to her need before he exploded with frustration.

  * * * *

  "Focus on this point." Lucinda pointed to the small blue mat on the ground beside her.

  Nyte watched her with full attention, as he did during all their lessons.

  "I want you to reappear right here."

  She was teaching him to transport himself instantaneously from one location to another. The first attempt would be to move across the room. It was easier for a student to transport to a visible destination because then they only had to concentrate on moving and not on imagining the location, too. Distance wasn’t a major factor. Once a wizard knew how to push through space, it was as easy to move ten thousand miles as it was to move ten feet.

  "Imagine yourself in this spot. Imagine the softness of the carpet beneath your feet rather than the hardwood you’re standing on." She gestured toward the window and the bright beam of sunlight shining across her hand. "Imagine the sun warming your face." She drew her flattened hands up and down over the carpet as though defining a rectangle of space. "Focus on where you’re going and imagine yourself there, then mentally give yourself a push." She dropped her hands to her sides and smiled. "Are you ready?"

  He nodded, then prepared himself by taking deep breaths, calming his body and his mind. Just as she’d taught him to do.

  She watched as his chest rose and fell with his breathing exercises, and her own breathing fell into time with his. The sound of his hands running up and down his thighs, across the black denim fabric, drew her attention. The distracting movement invoked images of her own hands following the same path, his muscular legs hard beneath her palms, then slowly sliding higher....

  "Lucinda, I said I’m ready. Shouldn’t you step back?"

  Her gaze darted to his face. Had he seen her half-glazed eyes and known what she’d been thinking? She couldn’t read
anything in his expression, but he seemed more intent on his concentration than on her.

  And she should be, too.

  She reminded herself about the dangers of this lesson. If he overshot, he could rematerialize inside the wall. On the other hand, if he lost concentration, or if he wasn’t focused firmly enough on his destination, either he would not move at all, or he could careen off in some wild direction to a location that seemed more real to him. Like something he’d read in a book. Or a travel magazine--and he’d been reading a lot of those. Then there was the possibility that he would appear too high above the ground, or too low.

  With the accuracy and control Nyte had shown in all his lessons to date, however, she didn’t think she had anything to worry about. Except his frustration if he didn’t do it the first time.

  Which was a very real possibility.

  He now faced the most challenging lesson so far. With every previous one, he’d exceeded expectations, but this was the first one that went beyond straight manipulation of energy. Some wizards found it nearly impossible to give up the anchor of the material world, at first, and actually shift in space. It required a different kind of mind set. A letting go of the rigid rules of physicality. Some students took months, others years, to make the mental leap.

  She strode to the middle of the room, away from both his current position and his destination. "Okay."

  His eyes became dark with the intensity of his concentration and he leaned forward slightly, focusing on the small square of blue carpet across the room. She could feel his energy building, and she leaned forward, too, silently cheering him on.

  His body rippled, then disappeared.

  A shot of excitement raced through her. He had done it!

  She smiled widely, pleased he had not been defeated by the hurdle of disbelief. She glanced across the room toward the blue carpet, expecting to see him smiling back at her in exuberance.

  The beat of her heart stuttered and she gasped.

  Nyte was not there.

  * * * *

  Darkness surrounded Nyte. Cold and hollow. He felt like a comet, flung across the heavens by a cosmic catapult.

  But where was he going?

  And where had he come from?

  When he tried to concentrate, to retrieve any images, his head ached from the absence of memory. Then he started to shake, and it felt like the top of his head opened up and pellets battered his brain. Images of faces, places, events--all striking his brain with a cruel reality.

  And then his heart.

  Cataclysmic emotions--fueled by explosive scenes of betrayal--burned through him in a maelstrom of uncontrolled fury. Like an empty sponge, his brain soaked them up, but he couldn’t make any sense of them.

  It was too much. The darkness blackened, drawing him further into its depths. One image, like a light at the end of a long tunnel, kept him from giving up to the yawning nothingness.

  The face of a woman with sky-blue eyes and hair like glimmering sunshine.

  Chapter 10

  A quivery ripple of panic shuddered through Lucinda. Why had Nyte not reappeared?

  She had to find him. She closed her eyes and pictured his face. Once she held it firmly in her mind, she pushed herself below the surface of his physical being, drawing on the memory of when she’d felt his energy pulsing through her hands. When the image of his essential being, strong and alive, radiated within her, she sent tendrils of energy fluttering through the ether, carrying her awareness through space in a gentle spiral. Seeking Nyte. The image of his essence should carry her straight to him. His personality signature should glow in the blackness like a firefly in the night sky, clear and bright.

  But all she saw was darkness.

  If he existed on the physical plane, she should be able to find him, but not a single spark of his existence triggered in her awareness.

  An icy breath of fear whispered across her skin. Where could he be?

  Logic. She had to set aside her raging emotions and look at this whole situation in a logical manner. She had to be missing something. She paced several times back and forth across the room, her arms clamped around herself.

  Time to examine her assumptions.

  She assumed he’d be on Earth. But her search had not been limited by that assumption. Even if he’d taken a wrong turn at Mars and wound up in the asteroid belt, she would have sensed him.

  She assumed he’d be in physical form. But even if he somehow re-emerged as disembodied energy, she would have felt his presence.

  She assumed he would be in the present time.

  The energy at the pit of her stomach quivered.

  Bingo.

  That assumption felt wrong.

  Could he have drifted in time?

  The morning after she’d found Nyte, Rand had told her Nyte was a powerful wizard from the past, and that he’d been missing for more centuries than she wanted to know. From everything Rand had told her, she knew Nyte must have jumped through time before.

  If he had skittered through time again, how far had he traveled into the future or past? And, more importantly, how would she ever find him?

  She knew if he’d jumped through time, especially if he had suffered another bout of amnesia, thus forgetting the past week with her, there was little chance she would ever find him again.

  She turned her shaking wrist to check the time. He had been missing for only ten minutes and already it felt like a millennium.

  Had she lost him for good? The pain of the thought, and the realization that she might have experienced everything she ever would with Nyte, burned itself to the center of her being like flaming lava.

  A sharp cry of anguish outside jarred her from her misery. At the same time, an overpowering awareness of Nyte’s presence nearly bowled her over.

  Elation propelled her toward the doorway and she flew into the hallway to the back exit, then flung open the door. She raced into the backyard and saw Nyte crouched on the ground, his hands clamped tightly over his face. She stopped a few feet from him. His body, as tense as a compressed spring, trembled uncontrollably.

  Oh, man, this was way too reminiscent of the alleyway in Paris. Had he lost his memory again?

  Had she been a fool to suggest he do anything like teleporting so early in his training? Especially since she didn’t know what had caused his amnesia, or what lingering effects he would suffer. What kind of damage had she caused with her carelessness?

  Gingerly, she stepped toward him, remembering his sudden reaction to her presence in Paris.

  At least, he was dressed this time. For some reason, she sensed that as a good sign.

  "Nyte." She said his name softly, so as not to startle him. He did not respond. She reached out her hand, slowly. "Nyte?"

  Her whole body tensed as she touched him lightly, expecting him to leap to his feet, but he didn’t. She flattened her hand on his shoulder. His body shuddered beneath her fingers. She crouched beside him and placed her other hand on his arm.

  "Are you all right?" she whispered.

  It was a stupid question. Obviously, he wasn’t all right. Constant shivers shook his body. She stroked his hair, reveling in the feel of the silken strands under her fingers.

  "Nyte, it’s me. Lucinda."

  He drew his hands from his face and his dark, troubled gaze locked with hers, drawing her into the depths of some private hell. He grasped her hands and wrapped his fingers tightly around them, as though holding a lifeline.

  "Lucinda?"

  She smiled and squeezed his hands, sending him reassurance.

  "Lucinda!" He rose to his feet, dragging her into his arms as he ascended.

  She felt herself pulled against his firm, muscled body, her head cradled between his hand and his chest. She could hear the quick, steady beat of his heart pounding reassuringly against her ear.

  Thank heavens he was all right.

  His arms encircled her, holding her so tightly it almost hurt. Almost. But somehow she thought she’d never felt any
thing as sweet as his embrace. This was not like any of the heated, passionate encounters they’d had before. This was oozing tenderness and need.

  For the first time, she actually felt he needed her. And she realized she needed him to need her. Desperately.

  She’d thought she had lost him.

  The thought ricocheted through her head.

  Oh, God, she didn’t want to lose him. Ever. She tightened her arms around him, crushing her body against his. Her nipples hardened and poked forward, longing for his touch. She unlocked her arms from his waist and slid her hands up his chest, reveling in the feel of that wonderful hardness under her palms, enhanced by the smoothness of his black, silk shirt. When she reached his neck, she continued around to the leather tie holding his ponytail together and released it, then ran her fingers through his silky, black hair. Her breasts ached and heat suffused every part of her body. Desire flared in her like a volcano about to erupt. She pressed her lips to the base of his throat, in the hollow between his collarbones.

  His arms tightened around her and he drew in a shaky breath. She worked her way up the column of his neck to his cheek, intensely aware of the sensuous feel of his coarse, whisker-shadowed skin under her lips and of his strong, muscular body wrapped around her. She drew back, holding his dark, desire-laden gaze with her own, then slid her fingers along his cheeks and covered his mouth with hers. For a moment his full, sensuous lips remained passive under hers. His hands moved to cradle her head as he drew in a deep breath, then his lips started moving in response to her kiss.