Page 43 of Never the Roses

He growled under his breath at the invidious comparison—no pressure, or anything—but he’d done it to himself. Moving slowly, he slipped a hand to the back of her neck, surprisingly slender, her skin satin, her hair a silky veil cascading over his arm that tempted him to take more, to thread his fingers through it,perhaps wind the length around his fists. But he leashed his increasingly urgent passion, easing in, aware of her tense wariness. She wasn’t afraid of him, not as an enemy anyway, but she was a cautious soul, not one who made herself vulnerable easily, perhaps ever.

Softly, with all the gentleness in him—which wasn’t much, as he was a hard man who’d lived a life of ruthlessness—he lowered his lips to hers.

23

Such hard-looking lips shouldn’t be so soft, so utterly magical.

A low, animal sound escaped her at the exquisite sensation. The Stormbreaker’s magic seeped into her via the hand at the back of her neck and his mouth, the only places they touched, just those two points of contact almost too much to bear, breaking barriers she’d erected within herself. Where Tristan’s kisses had been skilled, cleverly stirring desire, Stearanos kissed her like a key fitting into a lock, unleashing something in her she hadn’t known lived inside those internal walls.

The key turned.

The lock gave.

And something in the world shifted.

Like and unlike, his magic lashed the inside of her skin, ruthlessly controlled and constrained by the equations he used to explain his powers to himself. She imagined him quantifying her, exploring her mouth with a restrained fervor that felt half as if he engaged her in battle and half as if he starved for the taste of her. She met him with her own challenge, her own hunger. Her own yearning to yield to this extraordinary passion between them.

With a groan, he wrenched himself away and she caught at him before he could carelessly back off the landing. It wasn’t far to the beach, but rocks lay at the base of the cliff, sharp and treacherous. Dangerous shoals they navigated. Aware of it also, Stearanos stared at her, his eyes wild. Then he laughed, tossinghis head back and releasing the belly-deep sound that seemed to come from an entirely different man than the taciturn sorcerer who’d turned up to shatter her wards.

“That was extraordinary,” he informed her, turning his hands to grip hers. He’d scrambled her thoughts so thoroughly, she’d forgotten she was holding on to him. “Do you feel this?” he asked in wonder, studying the shimmer of their combined magic. “Of course you do,” he answered for her—and good thing, too, as her thoughts were still scattered to the four winds—and lifted those piercing eyes to hers, then narrowed his. “I’ve never experienced anything like that,” he said in a low, intense voice.

Neither had she, but she wasn’t about to tell him as much. Tristan would be far, far safer to dally with. Engaging with Stearanos on an intimate basis would be playing with fire—literally and figuratively—with as devastating results as if they dueled. And here she stood, her lips tingling from his kiss, battered within as if from a storm, holding the hands of a sorcerer who might as well be a wild beast, the way his hunger reached for her even now. Yes, he had it tightly leashed, but what about when he lost control?

Or when she did.

“Tell me I’ve made my case.” Stearanos stopped short of making it sound like a demand, but not by much. He was a man accustomed to getting exactly what he wanted, exactly when and how he wanted it. At the moment, he wanted her, but what then? What happened when he grew bored—again—and tired of her? Could her already war-weary and tattered heart heal from that? “Give me something, Oneira,” he coaxed, gaze searching her face.

“I thought I already did,” she replied, marveling at how calm and poised she sounded, given how thoroughly he’d rattled her.

He smiled, a brief twist of those remarkably stirring lips, a flash of humor there and gone again, leaving only the intensity behind. She pulled against his grip on her hands and he instantlyreleased her, concern clouding his expression.Give me something.She couldn’t give him what he was asking for… Could she? No. Not without risking more than she could contemplate losing.

“Besides,” she added, “even if I wanted to give you more, it’s not possible right now as I’m having my menses.”

Stearanos made a soft growling sound, closing the distance between them. “Is that supposed to deter me? I’m not afraid of a little blood.”

Of course that didn’t work with him. She’d have to try giving him what he’d come for. Reaching into the pocket of her gown, she extracted the novel and extended it to him. “Here is the one book and I’ll pay you for the other.”

Barely giving the book a glance, he shook his head. “Return it when you’re done reading it.”

“Stearanos, I—”

“Will return it when you’re done, as you promised to do,” he finished for her. “When you’re done, come and return it to my library. Put everyone else to sleep if you must—though I’ll tell everyone to stay out of the library at night and they’ll heed my wishes—but leave me awake, please. So we can at least talk.”

“At least?” Her pulse, still leaping unreasonably from that staggering kiss, stuttered at his suggestive tone.

“Conversation. I can give you recommendations for your next read,” he said, still in that sultry tone. “Discover what you… like.”

“I really don’t think that’s a good idea.” And now her voice quavered.Would you prefer ‘affair’?

“It’s an excellent idea and you know it.”

No, she only knew it was a tempting one. “Let me pay you for the rose cultivation book then.”

“It’s priceless. Literally. There are no other copies in existence.” He managed to look pleased about it.

“I need that book, Stearanos, or the roses won’t survive.”

“Then keep it. My gift to you. I must concede that you are correct—you have the greater need. I only hope that you’ll keep me apprised of how the roses are doing.”

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