His breath hissed out when she softened against him, and he splayed his hands across her back high and low, making her suddenly aware of her own body in a way she hadn’t been in a long, long time. Their tongues met and separated with a rhythm that reminded her of the battle strategies that were becoming second nature: probe and retreat, probe and retreat, seeking a weakness in the enemy lines. Only they weren’t enemies and this wasn’t a battle, and his body was strong and solid, anchoring her. She let herself stay locked there—in his arms, in the moment. And if a small voice in the back of her head said she should pull back, hold off, make sure she knew what she was doing, she ignored it to feel the warm press of his mouth and arms, and the layers of muscle beneath his shirt where she gripped his upper arms.
But that was it, she realized as the kiss went on and her brain kicked back in. She didn’t really feel any burning desire to let her hands roam away from his biceps and stroke the rest of him.
No real desire at all, in fact.
At the realization, What the hell turned into Oh, hell, and her stomach dropped. What was she doing? She knew this wasn’t going to work, had known it the moment he’d bared his feelings and her first reaction had been dismay, her second a profound wish that he’d kept it to himself. And the way her brain was racing as he kissed her now was further proof—as if she’d needed it—that they weren’t a match for the short or long term. In the dark depths of the night, she fantasized about a man whose kisses and touch blocked out rational thought and made the world disappear. Not one who made her feel all awkward, like her arms and legs weren’t angled quite right as she held on to him.
She must have stiffened or made some sound, because he ended the kiss and drew away, his eyes searching hers. “And for the record, I’m not talking about just a hookup here. I never was. I want us to—”
“Stop,” she said in a low, ragged voice. “Please stop.”
He hesitated, his expression dimming. “You’re seriously not going to give this a chance?” His voice roughened with urgency. “We could be good together. Let me help you. Let me be there for you.”
Temptation tugged once more, reminding her of all the times she’d watched the mated magi share a touch or a look, or make a less-than-subtle dash for their quarters hand in hand, and wished she could have what they had. She had tried to imagine what it would be like to be part of a couple—not just a friends-with-benefits thing like she’d had before, but a real couple—and know that there was always going to be someone on her side, ready to back her up if she needed it. Only now that she was being offered exactly that, she found she didn’t want it, not the way she had thought. She wasn’t sure if it was the timing, the man, or both, but even as her heart cracked a little and her instincts warned that she couldn’t risk alienating him, she shook her head. “I’m sorry, Zane, but I can’t. I just can’t. I need”—sparks, she thought, but instead went with—“something different.”
His expression flattened. “Something other than a man who cares about you, is attracted to you, and wants to help you succeed?” When she didn’t answer, he caught her hands again, his grip warm and sure. “You don’t have to answer right away. You can take some time, think it through, be sure you’re making the right decision.”
“I am sure.” She reversed so she was the one gripping his hands, the one squeezing to make sure he was paying attention, because she wanted—needed—to have this be the end of the discussion. “Please listen to me, and believe me when I say that I’m very sorry—sorrier than I really know how to express—but this isn’t going to happen. I said no the other night and I’m saying it now, and I don’t need to take time and think it through. This is the right decision for me, and I’m going to have to ask you to respect that.” She paused. “I’m sorry, Zane; I really am. Not just because I’m turning you down, but also because now I have to ask you if we’re still going to be able to work together after this, or if I should start thinking about rearranging the command structure.”
The woman in her knew she was kicking a good man while he was down. The leader she was becoming said she had to know.
Now it was his turn to pull his hands away from their clasp, his turn to take a couple of steps back. He stood with his hands locked behind his back, his chin up, and his eyes looking past her as he said, “Don’t worry about me. I know how to soldier up.”
Her stomach knotted at his stark tone, and the knowledge that he’d never done anything to make her doubt his professionalism. “I know. I didn’t… Shit. I’m sorry.”
Chin dipping in an almost-nod of acknowledgment that didn’t reach his faraway eyes, he said, “Then I guess I’ll see you at the morning briefing. If you need me… Hell, I’ll just see you at the briefing.”
She wouldn’t have been surprised if he’d saluted or waited for a dismissal, and was almost pathetically grateful he just turned on his heel and strode away, boot steps echoing in the corridor, then fading when he turned the corner for the winikin’s wing. Moments later, his door opened and then thunked shut, leaving behind an echoing silence.
Suddenly very tired, as if her exhaustion had just been waiting around for her to notice it, she leaned back against the nearest wall and concentrated on breathing. In and out. In and out. In and… Shit. How was she going to fix things now? Was it even possible? He might’ve played it off like they could just go back to business as usual, but there had been real pain in his face just now, real regret, disappointment, maybe even a hint of anger. She knew how it felt to want someone who didn’t want her back, and she hated like hell having caused him that pain. He was a good man, had been a good friend.
Freaking sparks, she thought bitterly, swiping a hand across her dry, burning eyes. It would’ve been so much easier if she could’ve wanted him.
Sighing, she pushed away from the wall and turned for her suite, only to be brought up by the feeling of a clammy hand on her ass.
Damn it, she had hot dogs tucked into her pants, and an apology to make to the last person she wanted to see right now.
She hesitated, sorely tempted to bag it and head back to her quarters. But that would mean admitting that he still had power over her, which he damn well didn’t. So, muttering a curse under her breath, she yanked the wieners out of her waistband and went in search of Sven, determined to get her thanks out of the way and prove that he’d long ago lost whatever spell he’d once cast over her.
Nightkeeper or not, he was just a guy.
CHAPTER FIVE
Despite her determination to just freaking get it over with, Cara almost wimped out twice on the way to Sven’s suite: once at the entrance to the mages’ wing, and again at his door. Caution said that she was too tired and raw to deal with this now, that she should call it a night and start over in the morning. But the longer she waited, the more important it would seem. A thank-you given in the moment was a toss-off; one twenty-four hours later meant she’d been stewing.
“Don’t be a wuss,” she muttered. And, clutching the hot dogs in a grip gone slippery with condensation, she knocked hard and fast.
“It’s open,” he called, voice muffled.
Blowing out a breath, she pushed through the unlocked door, stepped into the main living area of the three- room suite, and let the panel swing shut behind her. She hadn’t been inside his quarters since her return to Skywatch, and found that the hang-loose decor the place had sported four years ago—heavy on the surfboards, underwater pics, and treasure maps—had given way to a collection of canyonscapes and coyote motifs.
One of the two bedroom doors was open, and there were sounds of activity within. Through the door, she saw the corner of a bed covered with a rumpled dark blue comforter; a pair of jeans hung off one edge, with a holstered pistol tossed on top. The tableau—a still life done in denim and Glock—threatened to bring a jolt of heat, but she looked away. She had seen plenty of guns over the past nine months; this one wasn’t any different, and neither was the man. He was just another mage, fighter, and teammate. She owed him an apology, nothing more. So when she heard him coming out of the bedroom, she took a deep breath and turned back with her thank-you on the tip of her tongue—
And froze at the sight of him.
Wearing sweats that hung low on his hips, with a gray hoodie over his bare torso, unzipped, he wasn’t naked, wasn’t even showing her anything she hadn’t seen before. But it still made a hell of an impact.
