Read An Excerpt
Erotic Romance, Paranormal
Tugging the padlock, Grayson whispered his command. At the very same time he was ruing the fact he’d had to use his magic so often this night. It tore him apart. He had no choice, because he’d rather lay his life on the line than risk Zoë’s for another moment. Several bright, jagged sparks of fire leapt off the padlock and he tugged it free. The door creaked open.
Although empty and disused, the cabin had retained much of the heat from earlier in the day and there was a slight fragrance of camphor wood in the air, making it more pleasant than it might have been. The floor was boarded and he could make it comfortable enough to shelter until dawn, when he would fetch transport.
He carried her in and set her down in the middle of the room. “Stand right here a moment. I need to secure this place.”
She nodded, staring up at him for reassurance. It pained him to see the confusion in her eyes. It also gave his craft potency because it was him she was looking to, him that she had called for back there at the clearing. That gave him the strength of a hundred men. It was a twisted reaction, to be sure, and he could only roll with what this situation was doing to him. He kissed her gently, reassuring her. A simmering arousal flamed in her, and he identified with it, responding, before he set about securing the small cabin.
There were no curtains on the two small windows to the front of property and he filled the windows with reflective light and then paced the edge of the interior walls, chanting a boundary spell. Pointing at one corner he led a line of fire around the edges of the floor. Lifting his arms over his head, he directed the seams of fire. They shot up the walls, spangling, and then closed into a central point on the beamed ceiling.
Zoë stared at the spectacle. “You scare me,” she stated, simply. “This scares me.”
That pained him deeply, but he understood it all too well. He didn’t want his elemental magic to drive a wedge between him and Zoë, the way it had his parents. He strode back to her, taking her into his arms. “No need for you to be scared of me, sweetheart. It’s everybody else who needs to fear me, if they ever try to lay another finger on you.” He kissed the top of her head, and was greatly relieved when he felt her hand curve around his waist. “You’re safe now,” he added.
She nodded, but he could tell she was still unsure as she watched the lines on the walls and ceiling fizz and settle into a warm glow.
He squatted at her feet and set about getting her out of her wet things. Lifting one foot, then the other, he took off her sandals. They were beyond a heel repair. She watched him as he undressed her, as if she were afraid he would disappear if she took her eyes off him. Rising to his feet he peeled her wet dress up from the hemline, encouraging her to lift her arms above her head.
After he’d helped her out of her underwear, he stood in front of him, entirely naked, shivering. He dropped the clothes to the floor, and rubbed her arms, drawing on some of the sexual energy between them to warm the room. Light from the spell he’d lodged in the walls shone on the side of her face, and his jaw tightened as he considered what might have happened if he hadn’t got there in time. He bit back the rising tide of anger he felt when he considered how they meant to use Zoë.
“She’s inside me, Annabel, isn’t she?” she whispered, staring up at him.
He shook his head.
If there was any possessing to be done around here, it was him that was going to do it. “Now that I know, I vow to stop it, to turn it back.”
Desire was driving him more than any other cause or ideal that he had ever held sacred before. Kicking off his boots, he peeled his wet T-shirt off and opened his belt, shoving his jeans and jockey shorts down and off. Zoë watched, and the way she looked at him, with a haze of lust in her aura, sent his blood south. He pulled her back into his arms as soon as he was naked, and the heat between them grew and multiplied, warming the room, drying them both.
She reached around his neck, her hands on his hair as it dried under her fingers. Her eyes were wide and her lips were parted.
“I promise you, Zoë. I will find a way to stop this.” He stroked her, reveling in every soft curve. These past two days had set him spinning on the spot because of this, because of the way she felt and the way she responded to him.
“I need you, Grayson.” Her voice faltered, and she swallowed, color rising in her cheeks.
The touch of her hands made his back arch, her fingers handling him so boldly that it knocked the breath from his lungs. He needed this too, needed this like he had never needed anything before.