ways, and then catch him in a trap capable of deceiving only the simplest of beings?
All witches were the same. He’d known that. Any wavering he’d felt in his goal to use her and her sister to secure his freedom evaporated.
Now to get her out of her damned circle so he could find her sister, secure his freedom, and remove himself from anything even hinting of witch.
A roar ripped through the air, jolting Kara to awareness. Her eyes darted around as she tried to assess her situation. The ground beneath her was hard and cold, and a dull ache drilled through her hip, telling her she’d been lying in one position far too long. Above her the stark gleam of the uncovered lightbulb reminded her she was in the basement sorting through Kelly’s things. No, she corrected herself, sketching a circle on the floor when suddenly electricity had seemed to shoot upward, startling her. She must have fallen and hit her head.
Still groggy, she lifted her body to lean on one elbow, and glanced around. Risk, dressed only in the worn jeans she’d last seen him in, stood inches away, his hands held close to his face, his fingers curled away from him, while he struggled with some invisible force as if fighting to separate two recalcitrant elevator doors.
Except there was nothing between his fingers but air. Her eyes rounding, she stared up at him. Was she hallucinating now?
“Erase the chalk,” he gritted out through clenched teeth.
Kara moistened her lips. He was real. Angry and real.
“Erase the chalk,” he repeated. A vein in his neck began to pulse, and a rivulet of sweat crept down his bare chest.
Kara inched backward, her heart jumping in her throat. What was he doing?
“Erase—” His tone shifted from labored to boiling.
Kara stared at him, knowing her eyes were wide and full of fear. She hated being afraid. Was so tired of it.
“Kara,” he began.
Her gaze dropped to the chalk. What did it matter? It was chalk, on concrete. She frowned. She could do what he asked — erase the chalk…see if that calmed him down, or she could run, but he stood between her and the door.
Sparing him one last cautious glance, Kara licked her finger and rubbed the white line beside her. Gray cement quickly showed through. With a muttered curse, Risk relaxed, his arms dropping to his sides.
“What were you doing?” His words were low, controlled, but Kara could almost feel his rage, as if the air around them had thickened to the consistency of pudding.
Unsure if she could trust him, she raised to her knees, and forced her voice into a calm somewhat flip tone. “I’m fine. Thank you for asking.”
Watching him from the corner of her eyes, she pressed her fingers into her hair and stood. No bump. Too bad. She could use an excuse right now for all the insanity she had been experiencing — and, her gaze shifted to the glaring Risk, was about to experience.
Every muscle in his body seemed to be on alert, and his eyes, she refused to look at them, sure she’d see that eerie glimmer she’d imagined before. Or hoped she’d imagined. If she didn’t see it again, she could convince herself it was just a figment of her overly stressed imagination.
Her own muscles ached, and a pounding had started in the back of her head. Whatever had happened to her here in the basement had drained her of every bit of energy she had — even the energy to be afraid.
“I’ve done nothing wrong,” she murmured.
“Really?” He motioned to the severed circle under his feet. “What game are you playing?”
“Game?” She frowned. “You really are…” She paused, her gaze drifting over him. His body tensed, and he returned her perusal with a look so intense, she felt the need to step backward — away from him.
“You were busy while I was gone,” he murmured. He stepped forward, eating up the distance she had put between them. The heat of his body enveloped her. “Your trap was well drawn.”
Trap? Kara pressed her fingers against her forehead and closed her eyes. She couldn’t think right now. The pounding in her head was getting stronger, enough so, she could barely hear his words as he continued to speak. He was accusing her of something, but what?
She opened her mouth to tell him his threats were lost on her for the moment, and felt her body sway, her legs sagging beneath her.
Damnation, she was falling. All anger drained from Risk as he reached out to catch the tiny witch and pull her to his chest.
Her eyelids fluttered closed, leaving only a thin ribbon of blue visible. He pressed his cheek against the pale skin of her forehead. Cool. She was too cool.
He shifted her in his embrace, letting her head tilt backward over the arm that held her while he tucked his free arm under her legs. Cradling her, he looked for a place to lay her down.
She moved, a sigh escaping her lips. The knot he hadn’t even realized was twisting in his stomach loosened. She was all right, just exhausted. The spell, the energy to complete the circle that had repelled him, it must have drained her. Lusse had said she would be weak without her sister, and she was. Weak. Fragile. And alone.
Risk pulled her closer to his chest. Her long hair pillowed around her face. Without thinking, he nuzzled in its depths. Female. Flowers. And Kara. The scents tugged at him. He trailed the tip of his nose down her face, briefly touching her nose with his own. Then after hovering briefly over her parted lips, he closed his eyes and dropped his lips to hers.
Warmth filled Kara, rolling through her like whiskey on a December night. Strong, masculine fingers wove through her hair, pressing her face toward lips firm and soft at the same time. Kissing. She was kissing someone. Risk, her befuddled mind realized.
She should be concerned, a tiny muted voice in the back of her head warned. Afraid even. He was big, dangerous and basically unknown to her. She couldn’t trust him.
His lips trailed from her mouth down her neck, leaving a line of heat that surged right to her core. His tongue circled her ear, moist, hot and compelling.
She straightened her legs, twisting her body in his embrace until she was pressed against him. One arm around his neck, her breasts flattened against his deliciously naked chest, she ran her palm down over sculpted muscles. His skin was hot, almost fevered. She pushed herself closer, letting his warmth seep into her. Her thin T- shirt suddenly felt confining, the material separating the heat of his skin from her own, sadistic.
He exhaled, murmured something in a language she didn’t understand, then pulled her closer till her face was pressed into his neck, and her pelvis rubbed against his erection — long, hard and enticing.
Pull back, the voice said. This could be your last chance.
Risk shifted again, pressing her more firmly against the steely hardness. Muscles deep inside Kara tightened, moisture forming in invitation. Her mind was afraid, but her body elated.
Kara lifted her right leg, wrapped it around Risk’s waist and kicked the little voice deep into a crevice she hoped it never escaped.
As Kara’s right leg wrapped around his waist, Risk paused. She was irresistible. He couldn’t get close enough to her, the musk of her sex, the silky feel of her skin, and the sirenlike moan falling from her lips, filled his senses.
He raised and lowered her, letting her mound skim over the length of him. The need to push her against a wall and plunge the full length of his throbbing shaft into her moist heat almost overwhelmed him.
Need. His mind shot back to the son he’d left beaten on Lusse’s floor. He’d lost control before, given into his need of the moment.
His instincts were screaming, heat rolled inside him, demanding he forget everything except his craving — to meld with Kara, to plunge over and over into the soft pleasure of her body.
