Page 82 of Of Scale and Blood

I warily picked it up; it seemed overly large for my wrist, but I nevertheless slipped it on. The pulse of energy running through the darker thread sharpened briefly, and the bracelet contracted until it sat snugly but comfortably against my wrist. I lightly pulled on it; the leather gave fractionally but didn’t move. It appeared that, at least for the moment, there was no taking it off. Which, given Gayl remained a threat to whatever Damon was truly up to, was not a bad thing.

I returned to the seating area, eating my meal and consuming the entire pot of shamoke, then stripped off the gown, climbed into bed, and went to sleep. This time, it wasn’t dreams of deception and betrayal that haunted me, but rather a sullen warning that our time was up.

Vahree was coming for us, and this time, he wouldn’t take no for an answer.

* * *

I woke to the faintest brush of warmth against my lips. I stirred, caught the scent of warm spices and man, and opened my eyes. Damon lay beside me, his head on my pillow, his face inches from mine.

Almost instantly, the urge to wrap myself around him, to beg him to kiss me, caress me, lose himself within me, rose, but I held still. I’d already given too much of myself to this man and, until he opened up, I needed to slow things down.

“When did you get back?”

“About two hours ago. Had to report to your father, then make myself presentable for my wife.”

“The wife appreciates the cleaner presentation.”

His lips quirked. “But would not have rejected the dirtier?”

“Depends on the type of dirt we’re discussing.”

His soft amusement fell away. He knew I wasn’t talking aboutactualdirt but made no reply to it. Instead, he touched my cheek, then ran his finger down to my lips, leaving a tingly, burning trail in its wake. When his finger brushed my bottom lip, I closed my mouth around it and lightly sucked. Heat and hunger stirred in his eyes and echoed deep within me. My brain might be wanting me to slow down but my body definitely had other ideas. I released his finger, and it moved on, down my chin and neck, still trailing heated chaos behind it.

“What of the Angolan witches?” I asked softly, a slight catch in my voice. He might be doing nothing more than lightly touching me, yet it felt like I was being branded.

“They await our arrival in the caverns.”

His slow journey continued to my collarbone, sweeping from one side to the other, encompassing the shoulder I wasn’t lying on. I had the odd feeling he was determined to refamiliarize himself with all the parts of my body he could reach, and while I was not against such slow exploration, I also wasn’t sure I could stand the torture. I wanted this man with a fierceness that almost felt like desperation. And maybe it was, because if the dreams that had plagued me over the last couple of nights were to be believed, this moment, this perfect bubble of peace and desire, was all that we had left; life, war, and treachery were about to sweep it all away.

I licked my lips, saw the hunger in his gaze deepen, and once again felt its deeper echo within. “Why the caverns? Why not perform it here, given you’ve already marked all the symbols on the floor? Or do you need the drakkons’ presence rather than just their blood?”

“The latter, I’m afraid. There has to be a physical connection between the two elements we’re trying to combine for the spell to work.”

“Then if you’re not using the spell here, why does it still glow?”

“Because I’m still refining the process.”

“That may not be a lie, but it’s not entirely the truth now either, is it?”

He grimaced. “No, but I cannot say anything more just yet?—”

“That response is getting so fucking tedious, Damon.”

“I know, and I’m sorry.” He paused. “Do you want me to stop?”

“No, I fucking don’t.”

He chuckled softly and, with one lone finger, continued to circle my left breast’s areola. It pebbled in response, and my breath caught in my throat. Vahree only knew, I wanted the man so badly... but I needed to ask my questions even more, no matter how fruitless that particular endeavor might be.

“And what of your aunt?” I somehow said, a quiver that spoke of the desire building within so very evident in my voice. “Won’t she be?—”

“I do not wish to talk about my aunt or indeed my father right now.”

“Then what do you wish, Damon?” I snapped back. “What part will I play in your future once the machinations that currently rule your life end?”

His fingers stilled again, and his gaze came to mine. For the briefest of moments, it felt like I was falling into a sea of blue. A sea that was warm, caring, and dangerously beautiful, filled with ghostly promises that couldn’t possibly be.

“What part do you play?” he echoed softly, somehow so much closer than he had been only a heartbeat before. “You are a light that shone brightly at the darkest point of my night, a promise of what might yet be. If you believe nothing else, then believe this; I willneverrelinquish you. You are mine, and only mine.”

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