Page 15 of A Touch of Flame
Her gaze flew to his.
He’d stopped eating and was watching her in a way she could only describe as predatory. His extraordinary green eyes glimmered and showed golden rings. His lips pulled back and he bared his teeth. His cheeks had elongated slightly. She could see the beginnings of dark wolf-fur.
Oh, sweet Mother of God, what she felt in this moment. It was as much a pull on her soul as it was a driving force through her body. She wanted Braden and she wanted to feel his teeth on her neck.
What are you thinking about?His voice, even inside her head, had dropped at least one octave and held a resonance that stroked the insides of her thighs. He settled the remnants of his steak on his plate.
She saw no reason not to tell him. “Your shoulders. Your chest. Wondering what you looked like as a wolf and whether your fangs would hurt if you used them on me.”
He took a few deep breaths but his nostrils worked like bellows. Slowly, his features returned to human-normal. “This wouldn’t be smart, Maeve, not for either of us.”
She agreed. “Not on any level.”
He heaved a sigh. “Thanks for the food.” He hadn’t touched his salad but she wasn’t surprised. He’d eaten what he’d needed most.
He wiped his hands on the napkin. She moved the tray away as he settled back into the pillows.
“Do you want me to go? Would that be easier?”
“No. Please stay. We don’t have to act on any of this and I like your company. I always have.”
“Then I’ll stay.”
“I’m beat, though.”
“Sleep if you can.” She’d seen the recovery process of the near-dead many times. Sleep, food, maybe a shower, more sleep.
His eyes closed shortly afterward.
She picked up her fork and worked on her salad and her steak.
As he started to doze, she shifted her focus away from him and began cataloguing all the projects that needed tending. She never went out into the Graveyard until after midnight and it was only nine in the evening. She needed to meet with the architect and the builder to see how the apartments were progressing, and she had to get busy and create at least two dozen new candles for her shop.
More than anything, she needed to work on a spell that would allow her to take someone with her to the cell side of Veyda’s compound.
As she ate more of her meal, she reviewed all the different combinations of potions and spells she’d put together to improve her ability to disarm Veyda’s security spell. But each time, her internal witchness told her she’d failed to create the right formula.
She didn’t intend to stop trying. That wasn’t in her nature. At all.
If she could break through in a significant way, she’d ask Braden, or if not him then Greg, to lend a hand. Greg was the top wolf among the shifters who lived at the Landing. She had no doubt he and his pack would be game to accompany her, maybe blow up a wall if needed to save an abducted witch.
By the time she’d mulled over her mental to-do list and finished her steak and salad, Braden was snoring.
She chuckled as she pulled back the table and organized their shared tray.
As she was drawing the table back, however, Braden snorted suddenly and woke himself up. By a habit formed over four days, she quickly grabbed his hand in both of hers and held on. His panicky gaze met hers.
“I dreamed of her again.”
“Laura?”
He nodded. His eyes grew pinched. She wished he didn’t smell so good.
“Did she give you any wisdom?”
He chuckled quietly. “Just told me not to be stupid. She said that often when she was alive.”
“I take it you’re a slow-learner.”
