Page 82 of The Great and Terrible

I stretched the broken bottle in her direction. “Don’t come at me again. I don’t want to hurt you, but I will.”

A trickle of blood leaked from the corner of her mouth. “I can’t let you live.” She crawled closer, standing along the way. “I’ve made my move. Ensured Leona sleeps. Blocked the guards. I won’t get another chance.” She picked up speed.

The moment we reached striking distance, we slashed at each other. I cut her; she sliced me. Then we were grappling, crashing into a recliner, the floor. The bumps and cuts I acquired barely registered as adrenaline surged, dulling the worst of the pain.

The bedroom door burst open, wood shards flying. Guards rushed into the room, hurrying over to tear us apart. Strong, tattooed arms banded around me. A familiar heavenly scent filled my nose.

“Are you all right, princess?”

Jasher? Panting, I spun, facing the guard who held me. Yes! His hair wasn’t quite tamed, and concern glowed in his sunset eyes. With a cry of despair and relief, I threw myself against him.

“What happened?” he demanded, one hand in my hair, the other pressed against my lower back.

“Patch promised West she’d kill me in exchange for her freedom.”

Muscles all over his body bunched with tension. “Lock her below,” he commanded the other guard, who looked exactly like him but also somehow oh, so different. Colder. “The Guardian can decide what to do with her when he returns.”

The guard obeyed, dragging a struggling Patch from the room.

Conflicting desires warred within me. Part of me wished to help her, despite everything. A protest even ascended my throat, but it died on my tongue. She’d brought this on herself.

“I’m sorry,” the redhead screamed. “I didn’t know what else to do. Had to keep my word. I’m sorry!”

Jasher kissed my temple. “Let’s get you doctored up, yeah?”

Yes. No. I could have died. Again. I wanted…I needed…

Him.

With a ragged mewl, I surged to my tiptoes and slanted my lips over his.

CHAPTER 21

THE STUFF OF DREAMS

Itangled my fingers in Jasher’s silken hair, our tongues thrusting together. As we tasted each other, shivers and warmth overwhelmed me. My every nerve ending buzzed, coming alive with energy, propelling me from desperate to frenzied in seconds.

At my hips, he fisted handfuls of my nightgown. A single tug of the material brought me closer. And I needed to be closer. Needed his nearness more than I needed my next breath. I didn’t mean to, but I sank my nails into his scalp to keep him with me.

He cupped my face, tilted my head the way he desired, deepening the world-rocking kiss, and absolutely, utterly devoured me. Melting, I poured myself over him.

With every flick of his tongue, my control frayed a bit more until all I could do was cling to his incredible body. Knead his powerful strength. Ever increasing heat radiated through his clothing, creating a cocoon around us. A sweetly scented oasis made for Jasher and Moriah.

One of his hands slid into my hair. He groaned. The most delicious dizziness swept me up, up and away.I’m getting drunk on him.I needed… required….more. More of his touch.More of his everything. MoreJasher. Not get attached? Ha! An impossibility from the start. There was no denying my feelings for him. This wonderful man meant something to me, his life precious.

Will never be the same. Forever changed.

I’d been stalked by death since my arrival in Hakeldama. Perhaps even before, considering the tornado had set a course straight to me. How ironic that this once emotionless executioner had swooped in and saved me. How could I give this up—give uphim—even temporarily?

With a hoarse groan, he wrenched his face from mine, ending our wild exchange. Our ragged pants blended.

“Jasher,” I rasped and moaned. “I ache for you.”

“Why do you want to be with me?” His ragged tone possessed a guttural edge.

I gripped his shirt. “You’re a special, one of a kind, once in a lifetime contradictory treasure. Cold but hot. Ruthless but merciful. A protective executioner. Kind when you don’t have to be. Smart. Beautiful inside and out. You are my Tinman. ”

Cracks spread through his expression, revealing his own desperation. “And you’re my princess. I would war with the Guardian, my brothers, and our laws for more time with you.” He fisted a handful of my locks and slipped the other around my waist, holding me tight. “But I refuse to war withyou. Your love for your father is commendable, and I won’t try to stop you from returning to him. Unless we continue this kiss. Then I’m not sure I’ll be able to help myself. ”

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