Seduce Me in Shadow

by Seduce Me in Shadow (lit)

  He sat forward, attentive, focused on her. Now she knew how an animal at the zoo felt.

  “I’ve got it under control,” she said finally.

  He frowned. “You don’t need me this week?”

  “My last photographer already took pictures,” she lied. “But bring your snapshots of the bodies. I’ll look at those for my next piece. This week, I’ve got another story. Oh, and if you can, ask your source why, if Mathias is the good sort, abducted foreign soldiers were found among the dead in that tunnel. And what does he make of the Doomsday Brethren?”

  The afternoon both flew and dragged by. Sydney crafted a story about the magical diary. Googling turned up sites about Aleister Crowley, Harry Potter—even a supposedly magical cat. The book she possessed couldn’t belong to any of these people. Finally, buried a few pages down, she found some scholar’s works about a supposed magical diary dating back to King Arthur’s time. She was no expert, but the markings on the book were too old to belong to Crowley, Potter was fictional, and as much as she loved the fantastical, the cat was beyond even her belief. The Arthurian angle fit best.

  A grueling seven hours and a missed lunch later, Sydney submitted her story about the book. She hoped she’d gotten it right. If not, she had until tomorrow to retract it and invent another, in case Caden failed to appear.

  She dug her keys from her handbag and unlocked the door to her flat, her mind on the story and Zain. Had she done the right thing by submitting that story and not accepting Zain’s help? Odd that the man hadn’t seemed at all puzzled when she’d mentioned the Doomsday Brethren. Then again, maybe he’d been following her stories.

  Deep in thought, she turned to shut the door. There Caden stood in the shadowed portico, looming large.

  Sydney gasped, hand over her chest. He looked out of sorts, sweating, agitated. She might have wondered if he was taking drugs, but he hated losing control too much for that.

  “You scared me.” She lowered her hand and gestured to him. “Come in. Thank God, you came. I—I’m so sorry about Holly and—”

  “I don’t bloody care about the job.” He took a step in, shed his coat, then shut the door behind him, his eyes boring into hers. “I couldn’t stay away from you.”

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  CADEN FISTED HIS HANDS at his sides, trying to keep them to himself. Sydney looked gorgeous and fiery in a short black skirt and a shiny, coppery blouse. The former clung lovingly to her hips; the latter provided a mouthwatering glimpse of cleavage. She’d swept her long hair back into some feminine knot that made his fingers itch to unravel it as he unraveled her. The remnants of reddish gloss stained her plump lips.

  Without thinking, he found himself crossing the room to taste her lush mouth—and any other part of her she’d let him.

  No! Down that path lay disaster. Damn it, he was here to end this mission, for Sydney’s safety—and his own heart. He could not do something irresponsible. Already, this was going to hurt.

  Blast Bram and his grand schemes. Caden had only agreed to this one because it would keep Sydney safe. But she would also hate him forever.

  “We should talk.”

  She nodded and locked the door behind him, then headed for the kitchen, casting a nervous glance over her shoulder as she went. Damn. Caden wanted to be rational in her presence. A gentleman. But the urge to fuck her until she screamed his name, coupled with the gut-wrenching fear this was the last time he’d see her, made that impossible.

  “Tea?” she asked.

  “No,” he scratched out.

  “Something stronger?” She reached to the top of a cabinet and pulled out a bottle of whiskey.

  Very dangerous. If he clouded his judgment with alcohol, no telling how little conversation and how much sex they’d have. He owed her his best behavior.

  He shook his head. “Sit down.”

  Sydney bit her lip, then crossed the room. She settled on the sofa, and he sat beside her, intentionally keeping space between them. Bloody hell, she smelled like peaches and jasmine and softness. He swallowed as need clawed at him. Everything about her called to him. It was sharper tonight, painful almost. His body shook. As hot as he felt, he would have sworn it was July during a swelter, not late November.

  “Why are you here?” she whispered. “If it’s to pick up where we left off—”

  “No.” He would restrain himself, talk to her. Keep her safe. “I came to explain.”

  She raised a ginger brow.

  “I swear, I haven’t tried to steal your magical war story. Who would I sell it to?”

  “We have competitors who are ruthless and not picky about ethics.”

  Though he’d known she suspected he plotted to steal from her, her suspicions still hurt. “I’m not one of them. Please trust me on that.”

  “Holly caught you eavesdropping. What were you doing?”

  Bloody hell, Sydney proved over and over how sharp and direct she was. As always, he admired—no, desired her—for it. “I wasn’t planning to steal your story. I wanted to know what was happening with you. If . . . you were seeing another man.”

  Another man? Had he been jealous? “There’s no one else. For the record, I did not ask Holly to release you. In fact, I spoke to her before we ever . . .” Sydney scrubbed her hand across her face. “Holly is my trusted mentor, so I asked for advice. Whatever you believe, I never thought she’d sack you. I asked her to take you back, but after she caught you eavesdropping, she refused.”

  “I understand. It’s all right.”

  “If you weren’t stealing, then why all the questions about my story? Why romance me?” Sydney bit her lip and hesitated. “Was any of it real?”

  God, he wanted to avoid answering that telling question and just ask her if Anka was her source. But that was impossible. Sydney would ask too many questions. And the first would be, how did he know Anka, a magical woman? If he was honest and said that she was his brother’s former “wife,” Sydney would know he was close to magic. She would want more information about magickind that wasn’t his to give or safe for her to know. Or she could think he was one of Mathias’s minions, looking to torture Anka again. If Sydney thought that, she would shut him out completely. But he owed her as much of the truth as he dare give.

  “Everything I felt, every touch, every concern, was real. Being with you . . . was incredible. This is a terrible time in my life for romance. I should’ve stayed away. But you’re damned hard to resist.”

  She flushed, and he smiled.

  Then he sobered. How the devil could he answer her questions about his interest in the story? Damn. He felt rotten. Tired, hot, and aroused, his thoughts were sluggish and his body demanding. Worse today than yesterday by far. Bloody transition.

  Sydney still looked at him expectantly, and the more information he gave her, the stickier the explanation. Lies upon lies upon lies, and he hated them. The truth was no better. The more he gave her, the more she’d put in another story, further jeopardizing her.

  Finally, an idea hit him like a bolt. A godsend. He sighed in relief.

  “I’m looking for a witch named Anka.” He watched Sydney’s face, but it remained impassive. If she knew Anka, she hid it well. “Nothing has helped my brother’s condition, and I spoke with a . . . healer who believed that Anka had magical powers that could help Lucan. I’ve tried everything else to make my brother whole, to no avail. Anka disappeared recently, and when I started reading your stories in the paper, I wondered if she was your source.”

  Not a lie . . . just not the whole truth.

  Regret and sadness crossed her face. “I can’t tell you if the woman you’re seeking is my source. As much as I want to help your brother . . .” She grimaced. “I can’t.”

  Caden nodded. “I know. Working with you under false pretenses was wrong. I didn’t mean to be dodgy. I was desperate.”

  He refused to coerce her into compromising her ethics and giving him her source’s name. She’d resent him, and he couldn’t tolerate ad
ding more fuel to the anger she’d feel after tonight. Already he felt guilty for doing his best to stop the story that could help her prove her merit to the world and her stodgy parents.

  Somehow, he must devise another way to locate Anka, and he could barely think beyond his exhaustion and need to touch Sydney. But now he must deceive her again. The knowledge burned, though this was for her own safety—and that of magickind.

  “The other reason I came was to prove I have no designs on your story. I’ve found two people who are experts on that old book Aquarius got you, the one you want to write about.” He nearly choked on the lie.

  “You told people about it?” She rolled her eyes. “Doesn’t matter. They can’t beat me to press.”

  “I told people who can help you understand the book. I swear, no one has designs on your story.”

  She hesitated. “All right, but everything I’ve written is conjecture. If you brought me experts . . . I’ve already turned the story in, but I’ve got a bit of time—”

  “A story about the book?” At her nod, his stomach lurched. Dear God. With that article, she was painting a huge red target on her forehead for Mathias. He forced himself to relax. “Well, you have until tomorrow afternoon to change it, right?”

  “Unless Holly puts it up as a web story first. She’ll let me know in the morning.”

  “Call her and tell her to hold it. You’ll want to, once you talk to my connections. Olivia Gray owns a local art gallery and is an expert in antiquities. She’s handled something remarkably similar before.”

  Sydney’s face softened and excitement bloomed. “Really?”

  Feeling guilt sear him again, he managed to nod. “I also spoke with Simon Northam. He’s—”

  “The Simon Northam? The Duke of Hurstgrove?”

  “You know him?”

  “I know of him. Who doesn’t? Hello! Magazine named him England’s sexiest bachelor. He’s filthy rich and intelligent and . . . he knows about this book and is willing to talk to me?”

  “Indeed. Antique books are a passion of his. They both need to examine the book. In your presence, of course.” Right before they take it. “Will you let them? They can either come here or meet you at the pub ‘round the corner. I told them I would call if you were willing.”

  Sydney hesitated, biting her lip. The sight distracted Caden, who restrained the urge to lean across and kiss her. Giving into that impulse? Disaster. He didn’t want to be magically compelled to mate. Sydney was human. She didn’t belong in the middle of this magical war. And if she accepted his Call, her lifespan would match his. Who would want to live centuries fraught with danger, surrounded by people who could kill her in the blink of an eye when she had no way to fight back? And did he want to risk losing her and winding up like Lucan? No and no.

  “I want to talk to them. But no pictures. The book doesn’t leave my sight. No one writes anything down.”

  Caden nodded, even as the pain of deceiving her again lanced him. Though it was for her own good, it ripped his insides. “And you’ll call Holly?”

  A heartbeat passed, another. He’d do anything to keep that article out of the paper and keep her safe.

  “If I like what Olivia and Hurstgrove say, I’ll call and tell her to hold the story so I can make some modifications. If I don’t hear anything interesting, it’ll run as is.”

  Caden released a shaky breath. He hoped that gave them enough time to take the book and somehow convince her to pull the story. He’d have to devise a new way to find Anka. Because he refused to keep hurting his pretty redheaded firecracker.

  “Thank you. I hope you find Olivia and Duke’s information helpful.”

  “Duke?”

  “Simon’s nickname.”

  “Simon, is it? How well do you know him?”

  Well enough to have fought a battle by his side. Well enough to have endured Marrok’s physical training with Duke until they nearly dropped. Of all the Doomsday Brethren, Caden liked Duke most. He didn’t bark orders, like Marrok. He wasn’t half mad, like Ice. Or a manipulative sod, like Bram. He was reliable, unlike Shock. Duke was quiet, shrewd, and tough when necessary. Having a bazillion pounds hadn’t made him pretentious at all.

  “We met a few weeks ago,” he hedged. “He’s a friend of my brother’s.”

  Sydney shook her head. “This is surreal. I appreciate you introducing me to Olivia and ‘Duke.’ But regardless of what they say, I still can’t give you the name of my source.”

  Caden wished otherwise, but he respected her loyalty. “I know.”

  “If you want me to meet these people, why come here alone?”

  Because he wanted to see her. Talk to her. Touch her one last time.

  Her lips parted expectantly, and he tensed, stepped closer. It would be so easy. . . . Lean in, close his eyes, press his mouth to hers, let magic and fate take over. He’d have someone who would be his ‘til death parted them.

  What if she didn’t want that? Or want to live a millennium? Committing to him wouldn’t be for a typical fifty years, after all. What if they discovered they didn’t like each other in a few hundred years, or for that matter, two decades, or two months? Or what if the war took her from him tomorrow and he slid into mate mourning madness?

  “Caden?” she prompted.

  Impossible to be totally honest with her, but he had to be as honest as he could and leave with the cleanest conscience possible.

  “As I said, I can’t stay away from you. You’re an amazing woman.”

  She swallowed. The moment pulsed between them, thick, tense. Caden leaned in farther, drawn by her fruity jasmine scent, by those chocolate eyes that were melting him by the second. No, no, no! His internal temperature kicked up— right along with his amped-up sex drive. He hadn’t touched her and already he felt unbearably aroused. He cupped her cheek with shaking hand, trailed his thumb over her lips. Her mouth looked like heaven.

  “This isn’t a good idea,” she breathed raggedly.

  She was affected, too. The knowledge seared him.

  Caden caressed his way from her shoulder to her nape. “Stop me.”

  Her breathing picked up speed. “Why do you want this?”

  “I think of you. Constantly. For once in my life, I’m not in control. I shouldn’t do this. I know it. Yet, I can’t stop.”

  That was the complete truth.

  Sydney breathed hard. “This is a terrible idea.”

  Agreed, but that didn’t douse his need.

  When she paced nervously to her little dining room, he followed. “I never meant to hurt you. I wanted to help my brother, but then I got caught up in you. I wasn’t always honest. I apologize. But I can’t tell you I don’t want you. That would be the biggest lie of all.”

  Sydney pressed her lips together and looked at him over her shoulder. Her expression said she was staving off tears. “I have never had serious feelings for any man. But in less than a week, you’ve changed everything. Letting you leave here Tuesday morning was one of the most difficult things I’ve done, but I refused to fight for something you didn’t want. Now you’re back. What’s changed?”

  Even in matters of the heart, she whittled away the crap and asked the tough questions. But it was a fair question. Something had changed inside him. More dreams of Sydney, his magical instincts and admiration growing stronger, that damn persistent ache in his chest, fear he’d never see her again—none of it was letting him leave her.

  “What I feel is too strong to ignore. I tried, God knows. It’s such a difficult time in my life, and a pull this strong can’t be natural.”

  Caden edged closer, pressing his body against her back, his erection against the taut curves of her backside. He gritted his teeth, trying to stay focused. His energy, which had been lagging all day, shot up the moment he pressed himself to her. Unfortunately, so did his need.

  “I can’t fight it,” he murmured.

  Her breath hitched on a sob. “Me, either.”

  “I’ve known you to be s
mart, sexy, ambitious, tough, compassionate . . . and brutally honest. I appreciate you for it.”

  He cupped her chin in his hand and turned her face in his direction. When she stared over her shoulder, he saw her eyes glossed with tears. Her cheeks were red, her lips a swollen invitation to paradise.

  “But I don’t want to hurt you,” he murmured. “You will, if you spend the night and leave again in the morning without a backward glance.”

  “I don’t think I can leave you again. My connection to you is stronger than my will.”