Page 15 of Highballs & Hexes

Fi touched her hand to his ice-cold cheek. “Does this not feel real to you, then?”

Under her palm, his skin heated and the confusion left him. After jerking away, he stared at her in dismay. As if waking from his supposed dream, he studied the cell with new eyes. With each passing second, his expression darkened.

“How?” he muttered. “The fucker’s supposed to be dead.”

“What ‘fucker’ are you referring to?”

Before he could respond, a hooded figure passed across the opening with their face averted.

Fi charged forward only to be halted by Patrick’s arm around her waist.

“Don’t!” he snapped. “Remember what I told ya, girl. The bars are electrified.”

“At forty-three, I’m hardly a girl.”

Yeah, she was surly, but nothing annoyed her more than being treated as an empty-headed twat. Not to mention the solid feel of his embrace was electrifying all on its own. And wasn’t that scattering her wits to the wind? Or it would if there was any air blowing about. Come to think of it, why wasn’t there any air? Why were her lungs unbearably tight?

She gulped in a breath.

Then another.

And another.

“Don’t panic on me, love. We’ve enough trouble on our hands, yeah?” Patrick’s soothing tone was compelling in nature and had the desired effect of calming her. “Are ya all right, now? Enough to be removing your nails from my puir, abused arm?”

With a gasp, she released him and shifted around. His mouth kicked up on the left, and his eyes dropped to her lips, then farther down to where their chests met. When he raised his gaze to hers, it glowed with an unholy light.

“You wouldn’t be knowing this, love, but I’ve not been with a woman in some time. If you continue to press your glorious tits against me, I’m likely to embarrass us both with a cockstand.”

“Be that as it may, it’s difficult to move with your arm locked around my waist.” Fi was proud of her level tone. Inside, her heart raced like a runaway train, and she feared he’d hear the thudding at any moment.

His arm tightened a fraction, and he once again looked at her mouth. Stark hunger shone in his face, but he nodded and released her.

She didn’t immediately step away.

Instead, she lifted the hands she’d rested against his chest, running them along his collarbone and up his neck to entwine her fingers in his thick hair. She marveled at the silky texture. In her experience, gray hair tended to be courser, more wiry. His wasn’t, and her growing obsession with touching it was problematic.

“What are ya doin’?”

He didn’t seem displeased, merely curious, and Fi shook her head in bemusement.

Whatwasshe doing? They were trapped in a cage by an unknown abductor, but her body didn’t get the memo. All she wanted was to explore his body. To feel his mouth on hers. To bask in the warmth emanating from him. The pressof his budding erection against her abdomen woke her to the inappropriateness of her actions.

“I’m begging your pardon, Patrick.”

“There’s no need for that. I’d be the devil’s own liar if I said I didn’t enjoy it.” Although his voice was gruff, his lips quirked and humor lit his emerald eyes.

They were lighter in color, and the effect was startling.

“Why are you happier here, like this, when you weren’t at your home?”

All light left him, and he moved away.

“Patrick?”

“Can you believe I forgot where I was for a moment? You took me from hell to heaven, but I should’ve remembered that I live in a hell of my own making.”

“How’s that, then?”

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