The Darkest Touch
Page 44

 Gena Showalter

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He’d also ensured she had a soft pallet every night. Had asked if she was cold and stoked the fire when she said she was.
“You weren’t even watching?” he demanded.
His voice—loud and filled with incredulity—yanked her from the dread and hope of her musings. He stood in front of her, covered in the blood of the enemy. Hair soaked red was plastered to his scalp. His shirt had several rips, revealing deep wounds in his chest.
Never looked more beautiful...
“The demons—” she began.
“Are dead. They can’t become carriers.” He scowled. “You didn’t watch.”
“I did,” she assured him, trying not to betray the fact that her knees had gone weak. “Truly impressive wet work, Charming. Some of the best I’ve ever seen.”
His expression neutralized even as his chest puffed with pride, a reaction she’d seen from him once before. Liked it then, really like it now. “I can be fearsome,” he said.
Had someone told him otherwise? I’ll force the culprit to kneel before him and beg for mercy that will never come! “You can be—and you were.”
He nodded, satisfied with that. “Will more demons hunt you?”
“Probably not today. But soon.” When the spiders failed to return to Hades, he would know they’d been slain. He would seek revenge.
He wasn’t one to let even the mildest of offenses pass.
“Why did they attack you?” Torin asked.
“They are tasked with reporting my condition to Hades.”
He planted his feet wide apart, as if preparing for another battle. “Why? Does he still want you?”
“Maybe. But not because he loves me, if that’s what you’re thinking. He didn’t even love me while we were together or he wouldn’t have sold me to Cronus for a barrel of whiskey.” Bitterness showing. “I’m a threat to him, and he does not like threats.”
Rage detonated in Torin’s eyes. “A barrel of whiskey? You, who are priceless?”
And just like that, the bond clicked into place.
A cry of pain parted her lips, an inferno raging inside her. Her power buoyed, crackled, and need for Torin suddenly intensified to a nearly unbearable level.
“What’s wrong?” Torin demanded. “What happened?”
How could I have allowed this?
Can’t tell him. Shouldn’t even think of it.
Must never rely on it.
“I’m...fine,” she gasped out, all systems go. “Just fine.” Never experienced anything so delicious.
Must touch him.
No, no.
A sharp hiss of breath from him. “Your eyes are glowing. That’s bad enough, but paired with the way you’re looking at me...”
She licked her lips. Must kiss him. “How am I looking at you?”
“Like I’m not just a hero...like I’m something special.” He spat the words as if he couldn’t quite believe them even as he spoke them.
“That shouldn’t be a surprise. I told you that you were.”
“But I’m not!” he burst out. “Not yet.”
Yet? Not until...what?
Must have him.
“I’m a bad bet right now,” he said and backed away from her. “You know this, but you’re allowing desire to influence your thinking. I thought you were smarter than that.”
Blaming her?
Or fighting his own emotions?
That. His desire pulsed through the bond, feeding hers.
Have to pretend I can’t feel it.
Can’t pretend. Too desperate. “And I thought you were smarter,” she said. “You don’t get to decide what happens between us. Not anymore.” She approached him slowly, purposefully. She could have brushed against him but didn’t, not yet. She stopped a whisper away. “You’re not the predator in this situation. I am. I take what I want.”
He continued trying to distance himself even as a passion-fever flushed his cheeks.
She trailed him, determined. “I won’t be denied my prize.”
His gaze dipped to her mouth, his pupils spreading like spilled ink over his irises. The heat that radiated from him was a magnificent stroke. “Prize...for information?”
“Use whatever excuse you’d like.” For the first time in a very long time, she didn’t care about tomorrow, only today. This moment. Being with this man. “But this is happening.” At last Keeley brushed her chest against his.
He didn’t back away, not this time. He remained in place, teeth grinding as he struggled for control.
I will help him lose it. She traced her fingertip from the collar of his shirt to the waist of his pants, careful to avoid his wounds. He cursed her, but still he did not move away from her.
“More?” she asked, flattening both palms on his chest. His heart thudded fast, erratic. Slowly she moved her hands up...up...until her arms were wrapped around his nape.
“Keeley,” he said on a groan. Then he shook his head. “We should wait. The Morning Star.”
“I don’t want to wait. Not anymore.” She rose to her tiptoes, their lips coming closer and closer with every second that passed. Closer and closer to the point of no return. “I want what I want when I want it.”
He stopped breathing. She stopped breathing. They hovered there, lost in a suspended moment of utter agony. Agony and pleasure. Mmm, the pleasure. They weren’t actually doing anything, and yet the promise of more was an irresistible temptation...driving her closer and closer still...until she couldn’t stand the tight coil of tension a moment longer and pressed her lips to his.