But that intangible thing about her still drew him, just as it had on the plane and earlier on the deck when they had talked. And he discovered that he wanted to confide in her.
His mouth twisted. He said, “It’s happening to me right now.”
Her hands turned under his, slender fingers closing around his. “What do you mean?”
Slowly he disengaged one hand, removed his sunglasses and looked at her. Funny how quickly the glasses had become such an ingrained habit that he felt naked and vulnerable without them.
Her breath caught, the tiny sound quite audible in the deadened quiet of the cabin. Then she leaned forward and cupped his cheeks between her hands as she stared at his eyes. He knew what she saw. He looked at the same thing several times a day.
He was an Eagle Owl in his Wyr form, the largest species of owl in the world, and normally his eyes were very like his Wyr form’s, a kind of golden amber with an orange hue. The strange, brilliant color unsettled many people.
Now his eyes were changing. Darkness like spilled ink grew over the irises, the pupils and the whites. He had already lost some of his distance and peripheral vision. Eventually the black would take over completely.
“What happened?” she breathed. She stroked his temple. The caress felt shockingly intimate and kind, and it woke an immense hunger inside of him.
His voice turned harsh. “I’m going blind,” he said. “The last job I took, I was guarding an archaeological party that traveled along the Amazon River. We were attacked.”
He told her about the chieftain, the shrunken head and the curse, while horror and compassion shadowed her face. “We did everything to try to avoid actual violence, but there comes a point when you have to stop talking and fight for your lives. I think he wanted to strike me blind instantly so that I would be crippled in battle, but my body’s natural immune system took over and started fighting it off. I get periodic headaches and low grade fevers. Eventually the curse will take hold completely.”
She asked gently, “Isn’t there some way to break it? Most written curses I’ve seen are structured like a lock and key. Verbal ones have to have the same kind of structure.”
“This one has a very tight lock,” he said. “I’ve expended most of the company’s personnel and financial resources looking for a cure. In fact, I have a dozen teams searching in the field right now. Carling thinks the only way to reverse the spell is to have the chieftain use the head again. But of course that’s impossible, because he’s dead.”
She shook her head. “There has to be something, some other way.”
“Carling said I should consult with the Oracle about it,” he said. “I don’t think a prophecy will be much use, but I’ll try anything. I plan on going to see her when we get back.”
“Don’t write off what Grace might be able to do for you,” she said, still stroking his temple. “She’s done some strange and wonderful things.”
The disappointments of the last several months had been so bitter and extreme that a resurgence of hope hurt. His chest felt full of ground glass. He couldn’t trust himself to say anything. Instead he gritted his teeth and merely nodded.
When she sat back and let her hands fall to her lap, he missed her touch.
Then he decided he wasn’t going to miss anything. Not a thing. He would grab at every last bit of life, experience everything, take everything he wanted. He knew it was a selfish decision, and he didn’t care.
No regrets.
He stood, pulled her upright with him and drew her into his arms. She came readily, wrapping her arms around his waist and resting her head on his shoulder. More shock shuddered through him at the rightness of it. They fit, hip to hip and shoulder to shoulder. She was more slender. He stood a little taller. Balance and counterbalance, like a lock and a key.
He ran his fingers through her short, soft hair, and she rubbed her hands up and down his back. “I just don’t understand how somebody could do that,” she whispered. “How they could throw a curse at someone and know it will destroy their life.”
He could do that, throw a curse and destroy someone else’s life. Or wield a weapon, or strike with his body. He could kill someone. He had, many times before.
“I came to realize a long time ago that there are two kinds of people in the world. There are those who are wicked, and those who are not.” Julian. Phaedra. So many others he had met throughout his life. “And you are not one of them.”
Sometimes it was a relief to close his damned eyes and exist in complete darkness. He did so and turned his face into her soft hair. She smelled unique.
He had been an idiot earlier. Of course her scent, her body, was surprising and completely original.
I’m going to take you, he thought. I’m going to take you even though it’s selfish, and I’m going blind, and even when I shouldn’t, because I want you too much not to.
Because he was one of the wicked.
Chapter Six
The protective bubble that Phaedra had drawn around Sebastian’s cabin popped, and a few moments later Bailey pounded twice on the door.
“They’re finally gone,” Bailey called through the barrier. “The fucking fuckers.”
Sebastian raised his voice, the deep timbre vibrating against Olivia’s cheek. “It’s about time. I’ll be right out.”
Olivia wasn’t ready to let go of him. The hard length of his body against hers, the feel of his arms around her, all answered some kind of urgent question that she hadn’t even known she was asking. Reluctantly, she lifted her head from Sebastian’s shoulder, and they looked at each other.
Then, moving with deliberation, he cupped the back of her neck, drew her forward and kissed her. When his firm, mobile lips met hers, she felt another much-needed answer. Her lips parted and he dove into her mouth deeply with his tongue, stunning her with the swiftness of his invasion.
Her world whirled in a kaleidoscopic tilt. She hadn’t expected the kiss. She was still amazed that he had confided in her, and that they had embraced.
She hadn’t expected this.
His mouth was wet, hard and demanding. Still kissing her, he pushed her back and back, and she complied until she came in contact with the wall. His body covered hers. He took her wrists, pinned her arms over her head and shoved one muscled, jeans-clad leg between hers. His movements were so aggressive, so surprising, a shaken moan broke out of her. Dear God, he had an erection. The hard length of it pressed against her hip.
He lit her world on fire. Everything burned with incandescent light.
She wanted to touch his hair to find out if it was as soft as it looked. She wanted to touch him. Her fingers opened and closed in fists. The hard shackles of his hands prevented her from touching him the way she needed to. All she could do was squeeze his leg between hers, arch against his body and kiss him back, so she did, while her heart took off on a manic gallop, running as fast as it could straight toward him.
His breath came and went rapidly, his wide chest working like a bellows. He drew back and stared at her, his strange, golden-amber-and-black gaze fierce. Along with the muscles of his lean body, the lines of his face had sharpened.
The realization crept in that she stared at an entirely dangerous man, and she had no idea what he would do next.
She also had no idea what she would do next.
“You could always just lock the door,” she whispered. Goodness, the things that fell out of her mouth on this trip.
His face blazed. Looking utterly barbaric, he ground his hips against hers. It tore a ragged cry out of her, because she had never felt like this before, never. Not with any of her dates or former lovers. Normally she was a calm, considered person, a bit of a nerd if she were to be quite honest, but now a strange, crazed creature had taken over her body.
“Yo!” Bailey pounded on the door again. “The crew’s starting to arrive.”
He bared his teeth. He looked utterly savage. “I said I’m on my way!”
“Take your time,�
� said Bailey. The other woman sounded extremely cheerful. “Just letting you know.”
He hissed in the direction of the door. “Go the fuck away.”
Olivia had focused her attention on the rapid pulse beating at the base of his strong jaw. She muttered, “Would you mind if I bit you?”
Wait, who just said that?
He released one of her wrists to yank his fingers violently through his speckled hair. “God. Damn. Yes. I mean no, I don’t mind. Yes, you should bite me. As many times as you want.” He thrust a stiffened finger under her nose. “We’re going to continue this very soon. Got that, Olivia?”
She nodded drunkenly, staring at the finger. He kissed her again, swiftly and hard, and then with a growl he shoved away from her and the wall and strode out of the cabin.
Left to her own devices, her legs wouldn’t support her. She slid into a shaking heap. Astonished euphoria sang a chorus and tap-danced in her veins.
Julian had been right. This had, indeed, turned into an interesting evening.
Fucking fuckers.
She clapped both hands over her face and burst out laughing. It sounded hysterical even to her own ears.
Slowly sanity set in, along with a clash of conflicting emotions that ricocheted like brightly colored billiard balls around in her head. She shoved to her feet and located Sebastian’s bathroom. By general standards it was miniscule, just a small basin, toilet and a shower, but it was polished clean and it had the huge advantage of being private.
Or so she thought.
As she splashed cold water on her face, Phaedra solidified beside her. The Djinn announced, “I am ready for small talk now.”
Olivia jerked upright and swiped at her dripping chin with the back of one hand. “What? No!”
Phaedra gave her an exasperated look and began to dematerialize.
“Phaedra, I’m sorry. Hold on a minute.” As the Djinn paused, her form half-insubstantial, Olivia patted her face dry with Sebastian’s hand towel. The cloth smelled freshly laundered. She folded it neatly on the rail and turned to Phaedra. “I’m rattled and preoccupied, and you startled me. I really didn’t mean to cut you off like that. I wanted to thank you, not only for what you did earlier outside, but for agreeing to surround Sebastian’s room with a barrier while Julian was on the ship.”
Phaedra considered her with narrowed eyes. “I didn’t do it for you. I did it for Khalil, and, in some measure, for Grace.”
She took a steadying breath, and reached for patience and calm. “Nevertheless,” she said quietly. “You helped me quite a bit this evening, and I am grateful. I know that you are not supposed to bargain for favors on this trip, but I’m offering one to you anyway. And if you ever need a friend, I hope you might consider me.”
“I don’t need friends,” said Phaedra.
Unsurprised, she nodded. “If you ever change your mind, just let me know.”
“Why did you kiss him?” Phaedra asked abruptly.
Well, that was like a dash of cold water in the face. She threw her hands up in the air. “I can’t believe you were watching us!”
The Djinn twitched her shoulders in a shrug. “Of course, I was watching. What else would I be doing? This trip is boring.”
Olivia’s mouth dropped open. “You have got to be kidd—”
But Phaedra dissipated before she could finish the sentence.
As Olivia made her way to the cabin she shared with Dendera, voices echoed along the corridors. From the sound of things, everyone had returned successfully. Exhaustion had replaced the euphoria, and she took advantage of the privacy to get ready for bed quickly. She was just slipping into her bunk when Dendera arrived.
“What a lot of fuss over nothing,” Dendera said. The other symbologist looked as tired as Olivia felt. “At least we will be crossing over a few hours later in the morning.”
“Thank God,” she said.
Dendera didn’t appear to welcome chitchat, and Olivia certainly wasn’t in the mood. Pulling the covers up to her chin, she curled on her side. Immediately she was immersed in the memory of Sebastian’s body moving over hers and the sensation of his tongue in her mouth. Warmth filled her body, and it was both hungry and languid.
She thought she would never fall asleep, but then, suddenly, she did.
Much too early, Derrick, the Elven male on the security crew who was crossing over, walked through the corridors and knocked on doors, waking everybody up. Breakfast was a quick, simple affair of hot coffee, Danish pastries and cranky people, several of whom appeared to be hung over.
Sebastian remained absent. Olivia’s excited, nervous anticipation dimmed into a rather queasy feeling. Surely she must have imagined that raw, wide-open highway they had raced along together.
She escaped the breakfast table and took her coffee up to the deck where cold, bright sunshine pierced the air. Contemplating an affair with one’s immediate supervisor was a recipe for disaster, anyway. If this job had been a permanent position, she would never even consider the possibility.
Time sped up in a flurry of activity as the crossover team donned their wetsuits. Everyone’s mood improved drastically and a ragged cheer went up when the yacht pulled away from the dock. As people moved up to the deck, Sebastian appeared.
He wore his sunglasses again. His wetsuit molded the trim, powerful lines of his compact body, and a fitful wind ruffled his white-and-sable-flecked hair as he stepped light as a dancer between team members until he stood in front of Olivia.
Her hands had started to shake as he approached. She pushed her fists against her upper thighs as he looked down at her, his hard expression intent.
Then she noticed the taut lines bracketing the corners of his mouth. She asked very quietly, “Is everything all right?”
He replied in the same low voice, “Just another headache. I missed you last night.”
Her breath turned choppy. She grew aware that a few of the others had turned to look at them. Bailey watched them, arms crossed and face expressionless. Steve stared too, and the distaste on his thin face was anything but expressionless.
Suddenly she didn’t care. The tension between her and Sebastian’s bodies vibrated like a strong, golden wire, urging her closer. Licking her lips, she whispered, “I missed you too.”
He bent his head toward her, slowly, and realization sank in. He was giving her time to find some way to stop him or turn him away. It would be entirely her choice whether or not they let their budding connection become public.
But she could not imagine turning away from him in that moment.
Insane though it sounded, she could not imagine ever turning away from him.
Whoa, Nelly. Don’t panic, it was just a thought. Of course they hardly knew each other, and falling in love that fast with a (near) total stranger was inconceivable, and…
Blah blah blah…
She let the supposedly calm, logical part of her mind babble away. In the meantime, she had more important things to do. Stepping forward, she raised her face and met his kiss halfway.
His firm lips settled over hers. Compared to the crazed escalation from the previous night, this kiss was positively tame, just nestling their lips together in a gesture that was more affectionate than anything else. He rested his hands on her hips, and she covered them with her own. The most intimate thing about it all was that it was so public.
Except that his hot, male Power wrapped around her, invisible and possessive, and the fire that he had started in her last night flared up again, hectic and out of control.
She managed not to reach out and clutch him to her in a totally inappropriate embrace, but her body shook with the effort. He held back too, but standing so close to him, she could feel the tension vibrating off his taut body. His fingers dug into the soft flesh of her hips. She knew he would leave marks on her pale skin. She didn’t mind. She wanted to egg him on.
So the crazed creature that had taken over her body was still in residence, alive and well. She drew back, mout
h trembling.
His well-formed lips pulled into the sexiest smile she had ever seen, and the laugh lines bracketing his mouth deepened.
In the meantime, silence had descended on deck. She glanced around cautiously. Dendera looked shocked, and almost everyone got very busy, all except for Bailey, who gave her a thumbs up and a grin.
And Steve, who stared at her with a cold, unfriendly gaze.
Chapter Seven
After all their preparation, and despite Sebastian’s concerns about the inexperienced symbologists, the crossover went without a hitch. Phaedra sank into the ocean with them and shortly afterward the Djinn’s physical form dissipated as she settled at the passageway’s entrance.
Bailey swam along the passageway first, hauling two containers that had been carefully weighted so that they floated a few feet above the sea floor. She cast magical light spells as she went. The balls of light flared and then slowly faded, giving everybody that followed plenty of illumination for their journey.
Behind her mask, Olivia’s expression was full of wonder as they swam along the passageway. Sebastian stayed close beside her protectively, but she made an excellent crossing. They both hauled containers. She transported empty ones designed for the library collection, and he pulled food supplies and packs.
Land magic swirled around them, and partway through the trip the seabed changed. They couldn’t rise to the surface with the containers, so they swam until the water grew shallow enough that they could stand. Then they pushed back their masks and stared at the land in front of them.
A sandy beach lay directly ahead of them just yards away. A bluff rose from the beach, with a path zigzagging up the side. The heavy gold sunlight of late afternoon drenched the scene. A stone fence ran along the top of the bluff, and beyond that, a partially visible manor house sprawled.
Underneath the constant murmur of the surf and the sound of wind, a certain kind of silence lay over the scene, a complete lack of traffic or any other man-made sounds. A bird of some kind called in the distance, warbling a sharp warning of their arrival.
The Wicked (A Novella of the Elder Races) Page 6
