Page 97 of Seduce Me in Shadow

“You’d have me bury the biggest story of my career?” She crosses her arms over her chest. “The one incredible story that could make me and show my parents that I’m every bit as successful?—”

“I know you’re ambitious, and I know what this means to you, but exposing magickind to the humans will always be dangerous. No.”

She sucks in a breath and stands, her small curves outlined in gossamer ivory. “You don’t get to decide what I write.”

I want to refute that. Since transition, my instincts about Sydney have been insistently clawing at me. Seeing her nearly naked and passionate stirs my desire. Battling her defiance brings out my every instinct to claim her.

As Sydney sweeps past me, I grab her arm, staying her at my side. At the soft feel of her, my cock instantly stiffens.

Fuck, I’m so weak where she’s concerned. During transition, I surely had enough sex to be content for a few days. But even the suggestion that she might surrender to me slides heat across my inflamed senses. Blood pools in my cock. Thick desire muddles my thoughts until I can only focus on possessing her. Duke, Bram, and the others can wait.

I tumble her back to the bed. She gasps as I roll her beneath me and position myself between her thighs. We’re both wearing too many clothes, damn it. My jeans, her wispy little nightgown.

But I can fix that.

Lifting the hem of her gown, I stare into Sydney’s dark, stormy eyes, down at the parted berry lips luring me like a siren call. They look sweet and plump and perfect. They could be mine so easily, just like the woman herself.

I lower my head, then hesitate. I know—know—that she’s my mate. If I kiss her, the words will tumble out. As much as my instincts screamyes!, if I follow through, I’ll tie myself irrevocably to her, to magic, and this place. I’ll be stuck with a destiny I don’t want. And I’ll put Sydney in more danger.

With a growled curse, I lever myself up on shaky arms and settle on the edge of the bed, away from her. Bloody hell, if I’m not breathing hard.

My every muscle and nerve urge me to kiss her, spill the words, complete the deed. My head knows better.

“What was that about?” Sydney sits up and is suddenly at my back, melting me with her nearness.

“I should be training with the others.”

“You order me about.” Her voice hitches. “Tumble me into bed to change the subject, then avoid kissing me, as if I’m diseased.”

I stand and find her earnest face. There’s temptation; it’s so close. I step back and put distance between us. “Sydney, the more tangled up in you I get, the more dangerous it is for both of us.”

“That didn’t stop you from spending two days in my bed.”

I hesitate, hurt tingeing both her words and her expression. Sydney doesn’t often show her vulnerabilities. Now that she is, I have no good answer.

“Witches and wizards require sex during transition. Without it, they will die.”

The hurt deepens. “So I could have been anyone? Or was merely convenient because I happened to have that book you wanted so bloody bad?”

“No. I wantedyou.” I grab her by the shoulders. “Only you. Duke insisted I choose someone else to transition with me, and I refused. It was helpful that you had the book, but even if you didn’t, I would have insisted on being with you. I’m not a heartless cad. I care about you. But starting a relationship now isn’t smart if we want to stay alive.”

“Rubbish! Excuses. Every time we’ve had sex, you’ve more than hinted it was against your better judgment. I propositioned; you refused. After you beat down my door, you couldn’t run away quickly enough the next morning. The evening you bent me over my sofa, you couldn’t zip up and get me to the pub to talk to your ‘experts’ fast enough. Then your transition hit, and I happened to be the only woman handy. All along, you wanted to stop my story more than you wanted me.”

My jaw drops. “You’re mad. I want you until I can’t breathe, until my thoughts are tangled, until I could nearly die for not touching you. But I can’t have your death on my conscience. And I don’t want to hurt you when I leave.”

“Leave?” She blinks, clearly fighting tears.

I want to reassure her. But that’s pointless.

“Once your brother is well, you’re really planning to go back to Dallas?”

“Yes.”

“Alone?”

Saying the word will hurt us both, so I merely nod.

“Which leaves us nowhere.” She absently plucks at a stray thread on the coverlet to avoid looking at me.

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