“Then why are you smiling?”
He shrugs. “I can’t help it. It’s been a long long time since Allure magic was used on me.”
The slight dimple of one cheek, the way he’s chewing at the corner of his lip, his fingers kneading into my shoulders, all tell me that he enjoyed it.
“But now you want us to keep even more distance?”
He nods, and before I know what I’m doing my hand grips his shirt, my fingers holding tight, and I’m tugging him closer to me. I don’t have words, just a need to keep him from walking away again.
“I won’t let you,” I say.
It’s a promise.
He wraps his fingers around mine, prying them off, but not letting them go. I get about one beat to process the fear in his gaze, the glimpse of a real battle going on inside of him, before my heart literally stops.
I drop to the ground.
Crumple.
Crushed.
Heat burns through my core and floods downwards. Pain and pleasure pulse side-by-side, like fire destroying to survive. I moan, the sound so full of sensations that it doesn’t even feel like it’s mine.
The tingling in my fingers begs me to run my hands all over Roarke, and I have a sudden yearning that my hips have to thrust forwards. My legs want to wrap around his, to entangle us together – and through all of this I have the vague notion that breathing and a heartbeat should be important.
But aren’t.
Just this heat, this fire – they’re the only things left in this world.
He’s just watching as his power rushes through my body.
My arm flies out, fingers clawing at the wooden boards. My back arches, the last bit of air escaping my lungs. I have no control over this. No fight. I forget he’s not even touching me, falling into bliss so hard that, in the back of my mind, I begin to consider that there might not be life after this moment.
And I really don’t care.
Then it stops.
Gone – withdrawing so hard that all I feel is grief.
I’m a panting mess on the floor, looking up at his intense dark eyes. Long hair frames his face, and serious lines crease his brow.
“My power will crush you,” he says, his tone too silky to be called a growl, but the sound still sends shivers racing through me.
What is it with these men and knocking me to the ground with their powers!
I don’t move. My legs are like jelly. My muscles feel like they just had equal shares of too much good and way too much bad. There’s not even a shadow of the heat inside me now. Just a vague memory. And with the cold that’s left behind, I realize he’s making perfect sense.
Roarke is dangerous.
I’m not strong enough.
The realization sinks to the pit of my stomach. Cold, hard truth.
My power snaps out, filling her all-too-willing body and flooding mine with her reaction. A need to follow her to the ground. To take those lips for mine.
I could make her feel things… become things… My whole being leans into the idea, wanting to show her how compatible our bodies would be. The floor. The wall. Throw Eydis’ supplies across the room and use every surface in here. My fingers burn with the desire to find her flesh. Rip her shirt off.
Have her.
Give her me.
Then those gray eyes are suddenly green.
The floor is gone – replaced by a bed. My bed in the White Castle. Soft red and black blanket with a mess of matching pillows. The woman is not my Kitten, but she is mirroring her every expression and gasp. The sounds are so alike.
The arch of their backs.
But the memory takes over the present, snapping away at my desire. Just pleasure. One more breath. Green eyes dead. Body limp and listless. A semblance of beauty washed out by the take of my power.
For a few moments, I’m alive with satisfaction, my power satiated. Then my soul recoils with deep disgust.
In the early hours of the morning, Pax will carry her body to the morgue on the southern side of the castle. I will Allure the memory from the healer and anyone we cross paths with. I can’t Allure a whole castle. I can’t distill the rumors or coerce the dignitaries.
I die a little more inside, a fresh piece of me tearing from the rest and burning to ash.
My Kitten is still moaning on the ground.
I snap my power back into my control – feeling the physical pain as a sharp throb through my skull, down my spine, and into my chest. Killian would enjoy controlling his power – enjoy this hovering pain and the challenge of working through it.
Aeons – he probably doesn’t even notice it, but I’m not sure how much longer I can take it.
And this little experiment proves the risks.
“My power will crush you,” I tell her, walking away and pulling Allure around me to bend time and make it look like I’m focused. Like I’m working and not at all thinking about her.
Thinking of the things I want to promise. All of them play through my mind as if they mean something. As if they stand a chance against the truth.
All I care about is that you live.
I will let my soul burn for you to live.
But the reality yet to unfold speaks of desire getting what it wants, and nothing but ash for the few remaining shredded pieces of my soul.
Fifteen Paces
Roarke is dangerous. I completely believe that.
But what would he do if I jumped on him? I wonder.
And apparently, my body agrees with my mind because I’m climbing to my feet and working hard to crush the idea – damn you, Killian, for beginning to break down my good servant walls.
I force myself to stand still. I didn’t have this problem before I met that man.
But the feelings I get around Roarke aren’t really Killian’s fault,
