The Darkest Touch
Page 54
- Background:
- Text Font:
- Text Size:
- Line Height:
- Line Break Height:
- Frame:
Maybe easy.
Okay, probably hard. But she was up for the challenge! The moment Torin got rid of the primitive, she would strike.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
ONE DAY PASSED.
Two.
Three.
Four. For the most part, Tarzan healed from his physical injuries, which wasn’t a surprise. But what was? The guy never sickened. Didn’t so much as sniffle. Didn’t gag even once.
Torin reeled with the intoxicating knowledge that Keeley wasn’t a carrier of the demon’s illness. Of any of his illnesses.
More than that, Torin’s seed hadn’t sickened her.
He wasn’t sure what to think about that. Did he dare bask in excitement? Or should he hold on to his fear?
Could he touch her again? Skin-to-skin, without consequences?
No need to ponder: it was still too risky. But he couldn’t stop thinking about what he’d done to her, the erotic interlude on constant replay. He’d had his fingers inside her. And she’d liked it. Liked was probably too mild a word. She would have killed him if he’d removed a single digit before she was good and ready.
He grinned at the thought. Ever since her orgasm, twin suns had continued to shine outside the cave. It had blown his mind when he’d first spotted them. A beautiful bouquet of red, pink and purple wildflowers had even bloomed for a solid mile.
Her astounding reaction would hold no sway with his decision to remain hands-off. I’m made of tougher stuff.
But that tougher stuff blackened his mood as he prepared Keeley’s breakfast. The usual twigs, leaves and mushrooms. She sat cross-legged on a pallet of soft foliage, her bright red hair hanging down her back in glossy waves. A normal man could have fisted the strands and angled her head however he wished, claiming a hard, bruising kiss.
Torin placed the food beside her with more force than he’d intended. She ignored it, just as she’d ignored everything else. Including him. She’d taken his words to heart, refusing to look at him or even speak to him.
Miss her, even though she’s right here.
He’d hoped to make things easier for them both. “Eat. When you’re finished,” he said, worried about her lack of nourishment and rest, “we’ll kill Tarzan and move on.” A change of scenery might improve her mood.
“What? Really? I’m finished!” She practically leaped to her feet. A second later, Tarzan vanished. “I flashed him into his village—without his skin.”
That easily. Sometimes Torin forgot just how powerful she was.
“Now we can go.” She blazed from the cave, leaving the breakfast behind.
Why was she in such a big hurry? Frowning, he dumped the morsels into a clean rag. He took off after her, and because his strides were longer, faster, he soon passed her, shoving the bundle into her hand.
“Eat,” he repeated. “For real.”
“Sure, sure.” As they trekked through the forest, she dropped the pieces on the ground.
“Stop that.”
“Stop what?”
“You know what.”
She folded the rag, saying, “Do I?”
Something he’d learned. When she hoped to avoid a lie but didn’t want to tell the truth, she responded with questions. “Why do you never eat or sleep?” he asked.
She glared at him as if he’d just accused her of murdering kittens. “Do you really think I or anyone else could go without food or rest?”
“You could. You have. Why?”
She opened her mouth—
“Don’t answer me with a question.”
Her eyes narrowed. “Fine. I don’t eat because the food could be poisoned. I don’t sleep because I don’t want to deal with nightmares and vulnerabilities. But who cares about any of that? Let’s talk about what happened between us while I was naked.”
The stifling heat began to get to him—in more ways than one—and he pulled at the collar of his shirt. “I would never poison you.”
“Fun times were had by us both,” she continued. “I’m willing to schedule a repeat, despite your abysmal finish.” The statement emerged hesitantly, dripping with the vulnerabilities she claimed to despise.
His chest ached.
He hated that stupid ache.
Well, enough! Time to put an end to this. To all of this. “Why do you still want me?” Apparently, not enough. “Haven’t I proven I can’t ever give you want you need? Not for long, and never entirely.”
“Those are excellent questions,” she said, unable to meet his gaze.
Her response angered him. Killed him just a little, too.
What? He’d expected her to tell him he could give her everything she needed?
“Whatever my reasons, we can still enjoy each other for a time,” she said, hopeful. “Can’t we?”
Until someone better came along? His anger magnified, an unholy fire in his veins.
Conversation is optional. Just have to find the edge of the realm and open the door to the next, all while keeping my damn hands off her.
Impossible. He knew the tightness of her sheath, and had to experience it again. Experience her. She had become a sickness in his blood. He gave a razor-sharp laugh at the irony. Like the demon, she had no cure.
Can’t live this way. Just might snap.
For Cameo and Viola. For Baden. For the box. Hold on, keep it together.
“I agreed to pay for your help,” he said. “And I will. But I’ll give you nothing more.”
* * *
Okay, probably hard. But she was up for the challenge! The moment Torin got rid of the primitive, she would strike.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
ONE DAY PASSED.
Two.
Three.
Four. For the most part, Tarzan healed from his physical injuries, which wasn’t a surprise. But what was? The guy never sickened. Didn’t so much as sniffle. Didn’t gag even once.
Torin reeled with the intoxicating knowledge that Keeley wasn’t a carrier of the demon’s illness. Of any of his illnesses.
More than that, Torin’s seed hadn’t sickened her.
He wasn’t sure what to think about that. Did he dare bask in excitement? Or should he hold on to his fear?
Could he touch her again? Skin-to-skin, without consequences?
No need to ponder: it was still too risky. But he couldn’t stop thinking about what he’d done to her, the erotic interlude on constant replay. He’d had his fingers inside her. And she’d liked it. Liked was probably too mild a word. She would have killed him if he’d removed a single digit before she was good and ready.
He grinned at the thought. Ever since her orgasm, twin suns had continued to shine outside the cave. It had blown his mind when he’d first spotted them. A beautiful bouquet of red, pink and purple wildflowers had even bloomed for a solid mile.
Her astounding reaction would hold no sway with his decision to remain hands-off. I’m made of tougher stuff.
But that tougher stuff blackened his mood as he prepared Keeley’s breakfast. The usual twigs, leaves and mushrooms. She sat cross-legged on a pallet of soft foliage, her bright red hair hanging down her back in glossy waves. A normal man could have fisted the strands and angled her head however he wished, claiming a hard, bruising kiss.
Torin placed the food beside her with more force than he’d intended. She ignored it, just as she’d ignored everything else. Including him. She’d taken his words to heart, refusing to look at him or even speak to him.
Miss her, even though she’s right here.
He’d hoped to make things easier for them both. “Eat. When you’re finished,” he said, worried about her lack of nourishment and rest, “we’ll kill Tarzan and move on.” A change of scenery might improve her mood.
“What? Really? I’m finished!” She practically leaped to her feet. A second later, Tarzan vanished. “I flashed him into his village—without his skin.”
That easily. Sometimes Torin forgot just how powerful she was.
“Now we can go.” She blazed from the cave, leaving the breakfast behind.
Why was she in such a big hurry? Frowning, he dumped the morsels into a clean rag. He took off after her, and because his strides were longer, faster, he soon passed her, shoving the bundle into her hand.
“Eat,” he repeated. “For real.”
“Sure, sure.” As they trekked through the forest, she dropped the pieces on the ground.
“Stop that.”
“Stop what?”
“You know what.”
She folded the rag, saying, “Do I?”
Something he’d learned. When she hoped to avoid a lie but didn’t want to tell the truth, she responded with questions. “Why do you never eat or sleep?” he asked.
She glared at him as if he’d just accused her of murdering kittens. “Do you really think I or anyone else could go without food or rest?”
“You could. You have. Why?”
She opened her mouth—
“Don’t answer me with a question.”
Her eyes narrowed. “Fine. I don’t eat because the food could be poisoned. I don’t sleep because I don’t want to deal with nightmares and vulnerabilities. But who cares about any of that? Let’s talk about what happened between us while I was naked.”
The stifling heat began to get to him—in more ways than one—and he pulled at the collar of his shirt. “I would never poison you.”
“Fun times were had by us both,” she continued. “I’m willing to schedule a repeat, despite your abysmal finish.” The statement emerged hesitantly, dripping with the vulnerabilities she claimed to despise.
His chest ached.
He hated that stupid ache.
Well, enough! Time to put an end to this. To all of this. “Why do you still want me?” Apparently, not enough. “Haven’t I proven I can’t ever give you want you need? Not for long, and never entirely.”
“Those are excellent questions,” she said, unable to meet his gaze.
Her response angered him. Killed him just a little, too.
What? He’d expected her to tell him he could give her everything she needed?
“Whatever my reasons, we can still enjoy each other for a time,” she said, hopeful. “Can’t we?”
Until someone better came along? His anger magnified, an unholy fire in his veins.
Conversation is optional. Just have to find the edge of the realm and open the door to the next, all while keeping my damn hands off her.
Impossible. He knew the tightness of her sheath, and had to experience it again. Experience her. She had become a sickness in his blood. He gave a razor-sharp laugh at the irony. Like the demon, she had no cure.
Can’t live this way. Just might snap.
For Cameo and Viola. For Baden. For the box. Hold on, keep it together.
“I agreed to pay for your help,” he said. “And I will. But I’ll give you nothing more.”
* * *
