Tonight was supposed to be her debut, as Morgan kept calling it. The cut on her foot was fully healed, she could Shift again. And she had been on board with the idea, had thought it might actually work. Just tell the Assembly, just show them a little something, like maybe one foot turning to vapor, her arm or a lock of her hair—just enough proof to get them off her back and allow her to drop off the radar and escape back to her old life. And escape was exactly what she was planning.
But the minute she’d seen their ominous, arrogant faces as they gathered to lurk behind Leander in the ballroom, she knew she wasn’t going to show them anything.
Because they planned to force her to.
And then Leander, with that kiss...well, he took the choice right out of her hands.
She was a fool. She knew it, as sure as she knew the sun would rise tomorrow. She was a fool to keep thinking of him, hour after hour, day after day, thinking and dreaming and wanting even as she tried her best to stuff it all down into the pit of her stomach.
She knew he was exactly like the rest of them. All he wanted was her cooperation, her submission, her obedience. There was no way in hell she was going to be obedient to a single one of them.
Especially him.
“I thought I’d find you in here with a pair of scissors, shredding up my entire wardrobe,” an amused voice said, low and silky soft, from a few feet away. “Not trying it on.”
Jenna’s head snapped up. He was right there, his outline barely visible in the middle of the darkened room. She smothered an angry gasp.
How had she not heard him? How had she not heard his heart?
“I was hoping you wouldn’t find me at all,” she retorted hotly, moving one step back into the row of coats, her hands clenched around the wool collar, drawing it closer. Another step and her back hit the closet wall.
“Don’t be ridiculous. You’re one floor up from the drawing room. I can easily hear your heartbeat from there.”
Through the murk she saw the sheen of Leander’s teeth as he smiled. Then his scent hit her, spice and smoke and virile man. His heartbeat pumped to life in her ears, an echo of her own. She realized with a start she hadn’t heard it before because he had entered the room as vapor and Shifted back to man.
Which now meant he was standing there nude. As nude as she was under this coat.
“And just for the record, I’m not trying it on,” Jenna snapped. “I’m...” She floundered, hating herself for letting him get under her skin. “I’m just trying to stay warm!”
He stepped forward, put a hand out to push away a dove-gray cashmere overcoat that was partially blocking her face. The skin of his sculpted chest was swathed in shadows, but she saw its polished gleam as he moved. A ripple of dusky light fell over the muscles in his abdomen; ambers and charcoals and deepest grays outlined the planes and angles of his flesh. She pulled her gaze away before it drifted farther down.
“I can think of better ways to keep you warm,” he murmured.
“I’m sure you can,” she said acidly, unnerved. Did he have to be so masculine? So muscular? So damn good looking?
Jenna blew out a little breath between her teeth, not realizing they’d been clenched together. “Like throwing me into a pot of boiling water. Or staking me to the ground in the desert. Or pouring honey all over my body and dumping a beehive over my head. Or—”
He tsked. “You have my intentions entirely wrong, love. Except possibly the honey part.”
She caught the phosphorous glow in his eye as he smiled, slow and languid. “Minus the bees.”
She swallowed and tightened her fingers around the coat. Her heart began to hammer in her chest. “Well, then you’re the only one. The rest of your friends are hell-bent on doing something nasty to me because I won’t—”
“But you did,” he interrupted, still with that same silken, caressing tone that sent tremors over her skin. “And now they’ve got their proof. You’re no longer in any imminent danger.”
“From them,” Jenna peeped as he moved another step closer.
He dropped his hand and curled his long fingers around the collar of the wool coat. His other hand came up and grasped the lapel. He pulled her closer until their bodies, separated by only a fine layer of wool, grazed.
She looked up at him and time slowed to a crawl.
He was a head taller than she, radiating heat from his unclad skin, his face hidden in shadow and locks of thick ebony hair that fell over his forehead and cheekbones. The hard and substantial muscles of his shoulders and arms were folded in darkness, outlined black against the meager light.
But his eyes were clearly visible, wide and unblinking and glowing fiercely green.
“You could never be in any danger from me,” he whispered. “You know that. Tell me you know that.”
“Only in danger of losing my ability to think,” she murmured, then bit her tongue. She dropped her gaze to his mouth, to the pleasing full arc of his lips, then merely squeezed her eyes shut, realizing there was nowhere left to look that would dull the ache that was eating her inside.
“And why would that be?” he asked, husky, amused. “If you hate me so much?”
She should run. She should push him away and turn to vapor and get the hell out of—
“Jenna.”
His thumbs were on her jaw, tilting her head up. Her eyes fluttered open. She peeked up at him through her lashes, then bit her lip to keep it from trembling. She felt panicked. She felt frozen. She could not look away.
He said her name again, barely audibly, bent his head, and now the amusement was gone. “Do you hate me?”
She hesitated, then shook her head once, quickly. “But I should, after what you did to me downstairs.”
He laughed, a low, relieved exhalation. “I’m sorry I made you Shift, but you are the most stubborn creature I have ever met. You’ll put yourself in mortal danger just for the sake of making a point. I couldn’t stand for that.”
She felt his warm breath on her neck as he whispered into her ear. The skin on her arms rose in gooseflesh. Over her pounding pulse, she heard herself say, “How did you know...how did you know that would work? That you could make me Shift like that?”
“I gambled.” He stroked a finger lightly over the soft spot under her earlobe. “Unlike any other half-Blood, your trigger seems to be linked to your emotions, especially the strong ones. Including murderous rage.” He chuckled, then nudged her hair aside with his nose and breathed deeply against her neck.
Jenna held perfectly still as the tip of his nose trailed down her throat. His unshaven jaw was a surprising rough scrape against her bare skin. She willed her hands to stay where they were and not wind up around his shoulders, willed her shaking knees to support her weight.
“That wasn’t fair,” she said, her voice cracking. “And I hate being forced to do anything. I hate bullies.”
“I know,” he murmured. He stroked one thumb across her jawbone, back and forth, light as a feather. “Which is why I’d like to ask your permission to do something.”
Jenna knew he heard her heart beating wildly in her chest, just as he heard her uneven breathing, felt the way her body was primed tight as a bowstring under his touch. The knowledge that he could, in all likelihood, almost taste the depth of her arousal filled her with an exquisite flush of shame.
“You promised,” she said, stiff and breathless, knowing what was coming.
“Yes,” he agreed, unmoving. “I did. So this time I’m asking your permission.”
The sound of his breathing seemed suddenly deafening in her ears.
“I want to kiss you again,” he said quietly. “Will you let me?”
She didn’t answer because she could not speak.
She breathed steadily through her nose, willing herself to say no and mean it. She clamped her eyes shut, fighting her desire, fighting her fear, fighting the knowledge that her entire future might hinge on whatever she did next.
He bent his head to hers and whispe
red against her cheek. “Will you?”
She meant to shake her head back and forth, but found herself nodding instead.
He didn’t move for a moment, and she nearly bolted. But then his thumb lingering on her jaw moved up to trace the outline of her lower lip, the corner of her mouth.
The urge to flee grew stronger. She began to turn her head away, but he spread his hand around the back of her neck and brought his lips to hers.
This time it wasn’t forceful, it wasn’t demanding. It was the slightest brush of skin over skin, a caress so light it was merely a breath of air. His tongue traced the curve of her lower lip. She shivered, frozen to the ground. He sucked on her lip and gently drew it into his mouth.
He began to massage the tension in the back of her neck with his hand, making the tightness in her muscles slip away. Caution began to crumble, a little piece at a time, like tiny butterflies alighting from a flower to scatter into space.
Her lips parted and she began—tentatively—to kiss him back.
He pushed one strong hand into her hair and wound another around her waist, gently, slowly pulling her closer. Her fingers were still clenched around the collar of the coat, her forearms pressed against his bare chest, but the coat had slipped open and she felt his skin branding hers, the warmth of one naked hip and muscled thigh and only the merest strip of fabric between the rest of his body and hers.
His kisses grew deeper, longer, more demanding. His free hand ranged over the outline of her body over the thin barrier of the coat, learning the curve of her waist, the shape of her bottom.
Leander slipped his hand inside her coat and put his hand against the small of her back, urging her nearer.
Her blood began to rise.
She’d dreamed of this, over and over, caresses and stroking that she wanted so badly—even as she fought to push every thought of him from her mind. For four long days she hadn’t seen his face, for four interminable nights she’d been tortured with an awareness of his proximity in the manor like a beacon that shone through the darkest night. Away from his presence, she’d nearly been able to convince herself the molten, tangible desire that existed between them was a figment of her imagination.
But for those erotic, tormented dreams.
But for that heartbeat.
Like the call of a siren, it always beckoned to her, every minute through the long days and nights, a thump and echo so compelling it seemed to meld into her blood, driving her insane with want, calling her to the edge of oblivion, where she teetered, looking down.
It was only through hours of practice with Morgan that she learned to block it at will, that and the cascade of thoughts that would crowd out her own at his touch. But every time she closed her eyes she could still see him, a red star on the dark horizon, strong and close and burning with heat.
And now that he was here, with his hands and mouth and heat burning every inch of her skin, she knew she’d only been fooling herself. She was drawn into the circle of his warmth, his arms, the feel of him so right it clashed with what her mind wanted, which was for her to run.
“Don’t put yourself in danger like that again. Please. I can’t take it. It’s important to me that you’re safe, Jenna.” His arms tightened around her, hard, and his voice dropped to a whisper. “It’s more than important. It’s everything. I would give everything I have to make sure nothing hurts you.”
“You’re the one that can hurt me,” she protested, hating how weak it sounded. Ambivalence and euphoria were doing battle within her, and euphoria was quickly winning. She shook her head, trying to clear it. “I know you think you can keep me here—but I won’t be locked in a cage, Leander. I won’t be your prisoner.”
He dragged his lips over her neck, down to her collarbone. His teeth pressed against the tender flesh there so hard it stung.
“I can’t deny I want to keep you with me. And I want you to want to stay. But...I would do anything to make you happy. Even if it means letting you go, if that’s what you want. Even if it means breaking every Law there is. I’ll do anything, Jenna. I’ll do anything.”
Though his voice was hushed, muffled against her skin, she recognized the truth in it, the raw emotion, and she started with the abrupt realization that he would put himself in danger for her.
He was willing to release her, protect her, and take the consequences, with nothing in it for himself except pleasing her and inciting the rage of all those snarling dark beasts.
It pierced her in the center of her chest, an unfamiliar sweetness that brought a prick of tears to her eyes. She had forgotten sweetness, had forgotten what it was like to be touched and held and cherished, and it opened something in her, it melted her like sunlight on snow. When she next exhaled, all her fears and hesitation sifted away with her breath, leaving only warmth and certainty behind.
She loosened her grip on the collar of the coat and slid her arms up around the hard strength of Leander’s shoulders. On their own, her fingers twined into the thick, silken strands of his hair.
He made a low sound in his throat as their bodies met. The coat slipped open to let skin meet heated skin. Her breasts pressed against his chest, his erection pressed hot and throbbing stiff against the slope of her hip.
“Don’t let me go,” she whispered, dizzy, delirious. “Not yet. Not tonight.”
He kissed her then, fiercely. His hands held both sides of her face, the friction of his tongue and lips against hers was so sweet and erotic she thought she would die with the sheer bliss of it. “Love,” he whispered, and kissed her again.
Just as she was convinced her knees would give out, he broke the kiss and bent in a half-crouch to nuzzle her chest. His hand rose to cup her breast, his thumb grazed her nipple. It hardened instantly under his touch. Jenna gasped as he pulled it into his mouth and suckled, a pull of teeth, a lap of tongue, a delicious, aching pleasure that spread through her body like a wash of sunlit honey.
His hand moved down over her belly, stroking its rounded softness, dropped lower to trace over her hipbone, then down to the flesh between her thighs.
He kneaded and pinched and stroked her skin, his fingers brushing against her mound, teasing lightly around it. She whimpered in her throat as he knelt down in front of her, his mouth against her stomach. His hands lifted up to cup her breasts.
He dipped his tongue into her belly button, pressed his teeth into the flesh of her hip, slid one hand slowly down her body and found her center, damp and hot. She gasped and sunk her fingers into his shoulders as he pushed a finger inside her. He touched her and stroked her until his fingers were slick, until she moaned and slid her fingers into his hair.
Her eyes blinked open at the sound of something heavy slithering onto the floor with a muted rustle. Leander straightened, then captured her lips again as he pulled another plush overcoat from its hanger to fall at their feet, then another.
After four more, he gently pushed her down to the floor by her shoulders and watched as she lay back into the bed he’d made, a deep pool of wool and cashmere and silk to cushion her body.
He knelt beside her and pushed the wool overcoat away, leaving her naked and exposed on the floor before him, only her outflung arms still hidden by fabric. The light was nothing but indigo shadows and pale glimmering grays that melted to velvet black, yet she clearly saw his fevered gaze drinking her in, devouring her.
He brought his gaze back to her face and she saw the hunger raging through him, the same hunger that made it feel as if she was conducting fire through her veins.
“All I think about is you,” he said, husky, staring straight into her eyes. “All I’ve wanted is you, since the first second I saw you. I’ve never wanted anything else so much in my life.”
Jenna knew he saw the blood rise in her cheeks even in the spare, silvered light of the room. But now she didn’t care. Now she wanted him to see everything.
She sat up and shrugged out of his coat, letting it fall behind her, another warm blanket to pillow her body,
to cushion his weight above her. She lay back again against the floor, spread her hair out in a fan behind her head, her body cocooned in luxury and filled with an aching that bit down deep into her core.
“Leander.” Her gaze never left his. She held her arms out. “Come here.”
Leander saw himself in her eyes. His thoughts, his moods, the unbridled need that tore through his blood, barely checked. Like him, she was vapor and fire, passion and smoke, headstrong and willful and bold. Like him, she was alone and accustomed to it, though not suited for loneliness. She needed a mate as much as he did, a strong and loyal partner to share a life with, to dream with, to love.
Mine, he thought again as he stared in hunger at the glory of her naked body spread out before him.
He needed to taste her. He needed to feel her and claim her and hear her moans form the shape of his name. He felt hot and alive and inflamed, her eagerness for him tipping him over the edge of reason to a place where he would lose himself, a place where the urgency that raged through his blood would block out the rest of the world and leave only the two of them, joined at last.
But he made himself wait.
He restrained himself as the fire rose to boil his blood and simply put one hand out and skimmed it slowly over the velvet perfection of her skin. His fingers traced the curve of her breast, the shape of her ribcage, the dip of her waist, the creamy plush flesh of her thigh. Her lips parted as he stroked her, her eyes fluttered closed. Her back arched to meet his touch. Her arms dropped to the floor behind her head.
He lowered himself over her, balanced his weight carefully on his elbows. She cradled him with knees and arms, turned her face toward his. He brushed a kiss over her cheekbone, her eyelids, the perfect arch of her brows.
Her palms stroked up his bare back to his arms, restless. She sighed, the smallest exhalation, her breath warm against his cheek, and his heart leapt at the sound. “Love,” he whispered again, everything he felt for her contained in that one word.
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