Page 32 of SIN Bone Deep

“A redhead in a Porsche,” Fennel added.

“And now this one. A brunette,” Callista touched the woven hair. “Well, they do say, variety is the spice of life. But…” She released me at last. “Back to Warren. Report the incident to your manager and be careful, Nyx. Men like him are dangerous, and no spell can protect you from a man who seeks to cause you harm.”

TWELVE

Mind the Three-fold Laws you should three times bad and three times good

– The Wiccan Rede

Iwas nervous as I turned out my bedroom lights and lit my candle in the window, but before I even blew out the match, I knew that he was there. I set the spent match down on the sill and watched his reflection in the glass. He stood still, the flickering candlelight picking out his face. He wore his cloak, as he had the night before, no longer trying as hard to hide what he was.

“I wondered if you would come,” I admitted.

“Why would I not?” He tilted his head slightly and the candlelight caught his eyes, giving little licks of fire within the pupils.

“I kissed Mal,” I swallowed hard and shrugged awkwardly. “We did more than just kiss.”

“I was unaware that there was a limit to kisses,” he was amused. “Or to whom you could give them.”

“Yes… But.” I turned to face him frowning. “It’s normally… Frowned upon to be kissing another man, when in a relationship with another.”

He walked over to me and caressed my face with the back of his curved fingers. “I would prefer it if you were not kissing Mal,” he said watching his hand as he continued the stroke by running his fingertip over my bottom lip. “As Malachar is dangerous, and his intentions are far from pure. But I would not presume to command that you limit your affections or passion to me.”

“I would be jealous,” I admitted, my eyes searching his face. “If you…” I wasn’t sure I could ask the question, both in light of my behaviour with Mal, and the uncertainty around what he was… and what he was to me.

He shook his head, smiling faintly. “I have had lovers before, Elenyx. But this is different.”

“Because I’m…?”

“On this side of the veil?” He finished for me. “Both yes, and also no.”

“I wondered if it were… forbidden,” I whispered.

“To love across the veil?” His eyes were tender and his expression soft as he stroked his fingers through my hair. “Probably. However, you saw me across the veil,” his eyes met mine. “Because you were meant to.”

“To speak of what you are…”

“Mmm,” he smiled. “That is a somewhat… delicate subject. Do you wish to have another name for me? I gave a name for you to use.”

“Ender,” I realized that the name was an answer in itself. “You have other names.” Grim reaper I wanted to say.

“Many,” he used his fingers in my hair to lift my face and stepped so close that his cloak enveloped me. My hands closed on his hips as I lifted my eyes slowly from the curve of his lips to his fire-filled eyes. “But I like ‘mine’ on your lips,” his voice was a whisper hoarse and seductive.

“Mine,” I breathed the word.

“Yes.” He held my eyes as he lowered his lips to hover just above mine. “Yours.”

I moaned and closed the distance, my hands stroking up his back, pushing his body tighter to my own. His hands palmed my arse, and lifted me to sit on the desk, parting my thighs so that as our kiss heated, his lips parting to the test of my tongue and his moan vibrating through our tightly pressed chests he pressed against me. My hands stroked down to his hips, encouraging the grind of his hips into the cradle of my thighs.

“Ender…” I sobbed the name out against his cheek.

“Mine…” He prompted.

“Mine…” I found the tie holding his cloak to him and it slipped off his shoulders, the hood falling away, as I released it. “Ender…”

He lifted me and pivoted, laying me on the bed. For a moment he stood over me, looking down, and then his eyes narrowed, and the expression shifted on his face. Rather than remove my clothing, he gripped his shirt by the waist and drew it up and over his head in a smooth motion that sent his hair into disarray, the strands charged with static so that they stood out, and he had to smooth them back against his skull in a flex of bicep as his chin lifted, it’s line sharply carved and his throat strong.

He was beautifully carved marble, the perfection of masculinity, his shoulders broad and rounded by muscle, his waist lean and narrowing to the hip, his stomach muscles an anatomical study of perfection. His skin was alabaster, and his hair ink against it.

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