Page 19 of Charmed

He retreated. Right up against a tree.

She plastered every...single...curve of her body to his, pinning him, and trailed a fingernail down his cheek. Across his jaw. Her gaze followed the movement, but he was too utterly captivated to respond.

That damn full mouth of hers, those plush lips, were begging to be claimed, and he mentally tripped over the flutter of her thick lashes. They framed her aquamarine irises as if punctuating their brilliance. Soft cocoa strands teased his arms. The kicker was having her in direct contact. Her breasts were crushed between them, and her atmospheric scent invaded his nose, and the heat signature of her skin had his blood scalding his veins.

Synapses misfired. Comprehension became a distant memory from days of yore when attraction was something he could reign. He wanted—needed—his hands on her in return, but the only part of his anatomy that stirred was below the belt.

Because, hell. Fiona was touching him. Willingly. And not in fight mode.

"Since we have to walk the rest of the way home, I'll stop at level one flirting." She rose on her toes and brought their mouths close enough to require each other for oxygen exchange. "Best you stay upright."

Without warning, she stepped away. The withdrawal was eviscerating.

Closing his eyes, he slumped and gave himself a moment for his blood to migrate north again. Shaking with restraint and the primal desire to finish what she started, he growled. She'd been merely proving a point and he was dying where he stood. He swore, one of these times, she was going to go too far and he'd snap.

He opened his eyes and found her several paces ahead. "Hold up." Damn, his pants had shrunk. Awkwardly, he caught up to her and rallied. "About that dental floss..."

Throwing her head back, she laughed. Except this one was more carefree and whimsical than anything he'd heard from her before. Something shifted instead his chest, banding his ribs, and he realized he'd kill to hear the sound again.

She sobered before he could manage. "To put all the cards on the table, you should know I didn't mention the dream to you because any conversation about Celeste pisses me off. I figured having the discussion once with everyone together would be more productive."

He nodded, absorbing that intel. Her explanation made sense and he could see her logic, but... "Regardless, I'd like it if you came to me first next time."

Her breasts rose and fell with a deep breath. "Riley Meath, you surprise me, and that's not easily done." She met his gaze, and there was no mischief or sarcasm in hers. "I expected you to demand your way or try to control the situation."

"I'm happy following your lead, Fi. Besides, would strong-arming even work with you?" Hell no, it wouldn't.

"Pfft. Nope." She flipped her long, sleek hair over her shoulder, and the strands caught the moonlight as the two of them entered the clearing. "I..."

Her fingers suddenly grabbed his forearm, jerking him to a halt. He checked her tense profile, then trained his gaze in the direction she was looking. And his limbs froze on the spot.

Minister Gregory Meath stood at the other edge of the clearing, stance wide and arms crossed. His white shoulder-length strands blew away from his craggy face with a breeze and his green eyes pierced the night to land on Riley and Fiona. Gone was the burnt flesh from the last time he'd seen the asshole. The family crest ring glinted on his finger, the one spelled to allow him to glamour into someone else, yet he was in his true form.

"Shit," Riley breathed and reached in his pocket for his cell. He checked the screen, keeping one eye on his uncle. "No bars," he muttered to her. Signal this high on the island was crap, especially in the woods, which meant he couldn't call for backup. Trepidation formed a cold ball in his gut.

"We got this." She squared her shoulders and raised her voice to address the Minister. "You healed. What a shame. It suited you to look on the outside like the monster you are on the inside."

A flick of his wrist, and he brushed her comment aside. "A minor setback."

She bent her knees and went into a battle stance. "What Ceara did is going to feel like a spa day by the time I'm done with you." Fury crackled off her in waves.

The Minister took a few steps forward, and Riley's heart lodged in his throat.

On instinct, he grabbed Fiona's hand and drew her closer to his side. "You lay one finger on her and you'll forcibly swallow every tooth in your mouth."

"My, my. Look who finally grew a backbone."

"Said the spineless jellyfish." Fiona sniffed like the asshole was no threat. "What do you want?"

"You bore me with this repetitive question." The Minister stopped roughly fifteen feet from them. He wore a pair of neatly pressed slacks and a white button-down, but it was the dagger in a sheath on his belt loop that snagged Riley's attention. "I want what I've wanted from the beginning. All you witches destroyed."

Fiona bared her teeth. "You can try, but get used to failure."

Ice slithered up Riley's back and down again. Terror threatened to collapse his legs. One slice, one stab from that witching blade, and not only would Fiona be gone, but so would her powers. Forever.

They'd trained for encounters, had defensive skills and her gifts, but all that failed him when faced with the man who'd made his childhood a living hell. He could stand up to the bastard, but he was so worried about her, he couldn't form a logical thought.

The Minister darted his gaze between them, then focused on her. "An uneven pair, don't you think? I almost feel sorry for you getting stuck with this coward. Hardly a fair fight."

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