“Where, then?”
“I know a place.” He wrapped his arms around her, called on the flames and in a breath of light and heat, flashed them both away.
Chapter 23
It took several jumps to reach their destination. By the time Torin led Shea into the small mountain cabin, he was feeling the drain of magical energy. He’d used too much both on the travel and on healing Shea without allowing his body to recharge. Rest would do it, he knew. But sex would do it quicker.
And he had no wish to rest.
His gaze dropped to the curve of Shea’s behind as she walked into the cabin ahead of him. Even in the ugly prison uniform, her beauty couldn’t be hidden. She was the woman who had held his heart for hundreds of years. Her energy, her spirit, her soul remained the same throughout her many incarnations. All that she was called to him on a cellular level.
He had watched her over the eons, seen her learn and change and been witness to the growth of her soul into the woman she was here. Now. In this lifetime, he had seen her resilience. Felt her determination and courage. Her warmth and humor. And he had loved her more than he ever would have thought possible.
“Where are we?”
“Somewhere above Palm Springs,” he said and she turned to face him.
The cabin was cold and dark. Shea shivered and he waved one hand at the fireplace, where kindling and logs lay waiting. Instantly, flames erupted on the stacked wood, sending brilliant patterns of light dancing around the small room.
She sighed. “You do that so easily.”
“As will you.”
She walked toward the fire. “I don’t know. I feel… as if something inside me is locked down and struggling to get out.”
“Your power already escaped you once tonight.”
“I don’t know how, though.” She laughed shortly and shook her head. “Seems like that’s something that would come in handy.”
“I can help.”
She looked at him over her shoulder. “I hope so.”
“Trust me.”
“I guess I am.” Scrubbing her hands up and down her arms, she said, “I’ve never been as scared as I was the last couple of days. I never want to be that scared again. Or that helpless.”
“You won’t be,” he said, and internally he made a vow. “I’ll keep you safe.”
She gave him a tired smile. “I’m counting on that. But I want to learn how to keep myself safe, too. I won’t be at the mercy of witch hunters again.”
“Good,” he said and walked to her. His steps were soundless, a big man moving with the stealth learned over centuries of life. “You’re stronger than you know already, Shea. Getting stronger still is the one sure way to ensure your survival.”
She nodded. “Who shot me? God, I can’t believe I was shot.”
He reached out one hand to touch the bloodstain at her shoulder. It still felt all too real to him. Hearing her soft cry. Watching her fall. Feeling her blood seep through his fingertips to soak into the earth. Fury roared within him and he fought to keep a tight rein on it. There was no target for his rage-and he couldn’t risk frightening Shea further. One day, though, there would be payment made for what was done to her.
“I don’t know who shot you. I don’t know how they found you.” That fact was a daunting one. If he didn’t know how they had found her once, how could he prevent it from happening again? Staring into her eyes, he found the only explanation possible. “I can only think that you’ve been tagged.”
“Tagged?” She frowned. “You mean like the microchips people put in their pets?”
“Something like that. I have to check you for it and get rid of it. Otherwise, they’ll find us too easily again.”
“Hell, yes,” she blurted. “Find it. Burn it. Do whatever.” She ran her hands over her body, scraping her palms across the cotton jumpsuit, digging into the collar and hems, but found nothing.
“Take it off,” he said.
She lifted her head and stared at him. “Excuse me?”
“The uniform. Take it off.”
She folded her arms over her chest. “Um, how about you just check it while I wear it?”
Torin sighed and shook his head. “This is no time for modesty between us, Shea. You can’t wear the damn thing anyway. It’s crusty with dried blood.”
She blew out a breath, looked around the room and spotted a quilt tossed over a chair back. “Fine. Turn around.”
“We are mates,” he told her, irritated that she would cling to something so foolishly human as embarrassment. “I will know your body as you will know mine. Nothing will be hidden from us.”
“Will be,” she repeated, frowning. “We haven’t done the mating thing yet and it’s a little disconcerting to strip down in front of a-”
“I’m not a stranger.”
“No, you’re not,” she agreed. “But you’re also not my lover. Not yet, anyway. So turn the heck around.”
Gritting his teeth, he did, but only because it was faster than arguing with her. He closed his eyes and listened to the fabric rustling, the zipper sliding down as she undid it hastily. His blood pumped thick and hot in response. His instincts roared as he fought for control.
In moments, she’d tossed the uniform at his feet. “There. Check.”
He did, and couldn’t find a thing. Which could mean only one thing. “They’ve implanted it somewhere on your body.”
“No, they didn’t.”
He turned around and stared at her. She looked every inch a pagan goddess: her long, dark red hair hanging about her shoulders, her creamy skin glowing in the firelight and the faded quilt held to her body like a battle shield. His body stirred again and a burning ache settled in his dick. If he didn’t have her soon, the agony of wanting her was going to kill him.
Shaking his head, he asked, “Did they examine you?”
She squirmed a little in memory. “They did everything to me. Even a strip search, which is just as much fun as it sounds.”
He blew past that. “Did they give you a shot? An inoculation?”
“Yes,” she said, thinking back, “they gave me some antibiotic. Said there was flu in the prison and it was to keep me from contracting it. Because they cared so much about their prisoners,” she added with a sneer.
“Where did they give you this injection?”
“Oddly, in my neck. Hurt like a bitch, too.” Her voice trailed off. “You think?”
“I do. Show me.” He stepped closer and she lifted her hair out of his way. She leaned her head to one side and Torin bent to examine the smooth skin at the base of her skull. He spotted it immediately.
“There’s something there,” he whispered, his mouth so close to her skin that he could almost taste her.
The scent of her drove him mad. That intriguing blend of earth and ocean that clung to the skin of a witch- while at the same time smelling different on each of them. Shea’s scent was powerful and subtle. Like the witch herself.
“Well, get it out,” she yelped, reaching around to drag her fingernails across the back of her neck.
“I will, but it’s going to hurt.”
“Fine. Whatever. I don’t care. Just do it.”
The pride he felt for her rose up and did battle with the lust that was damn near choking him. He wanted her and admired her and tonight, he was going to have her. He would feel her writhing beneath him. Feel her body take
