My curiosity about the book was temporarily replaced by curiosity about his room. He flicked on a lamp, and I took in my surroundings. I’d pegged him for simplicity before, but to my surprise, although the furniture was simple in design, his room was full of…stuff.
Not just piled papers and mismatched odds and ends, like my aunt was so fond of collecting, but significant things. Books especially. A section of wall filled with mounted, antique weapons, swords and daggers and the like. Opposite the makeshift armory, a widescreen television sat tucked inside a wardrobe that had to be ancient. The two side doors stood askew, giving me a glimpse of shelves full of movies. I would have liked to inspect the titles to see if we shared the same taste, but he claimed a seat on the sofa and gestured at the adjoining chair.
I sat as he placed the book on the scarred wooden table between us. His gaze locked with mine. “Where did you get this, Halle?”
Yeah right, like I was going to just cooperate with that attitude. “What is it?”
He arched an eyebrow as if to say, you first.
I sighed and stared at the magical tome. The sigil pulsed again, flashing silver across the front cover, but Kale was watching me, not it. “It was in my book case,” I answered quietly.
His hiss held the hint of profanity, though I couldn’t fully make out what he said.
He clasped his hands between his spread knees, waited a beat, then asked, “Did you open it?”
My patience snapped. I wasn’t a child, and I’d be damned if the man I’d kissed like I couldn’t get enough of him was going to treat me like one. “Of course I did. Now what is the damned thing?”
“You. Opened. Rafini’s journal.” He emphasized each word like he doubted I spoke the truth.
“Rafini? That’s his name?”
When Kale refused to do anything but stare at me, I threw my hands up in exasperation. “What is with you? Yes, I opened the book. I read the first few pages. Now who is Rafini, and why are you acting so secretive?”
He blinked, then dropped his gaze to the book. “Rafini’s dead. The last time I saw this book was when Gerard took it out of my hands and threw it in the fire.”
Impossible—that book hadn’t burned. Aside from the wear on its binding, it was in pristine condition, the pages barely touched by time. I squinted at Kale. “You haven’t answered who Rafini is.”
He shook his head. “A windwalker. The last that I know of. You read the first few pages? What did they say?”
I opened my mouth to answer, then thought better of it. He was playing me again, asking questions he already knew the answers to, to see if I was being truthful. Something else kept me silent too, the intuitive awareness that if he wasn’t playing games, he’d had possession of the book and evidently wasn’t intended to know what it held.
I shrugged instead. “Gerard took the book from you. You already know what it says.”
“No,” he answered wistfully. “I don’t. You see…” He reached for the clasp. As it had with me, it tumbled open. He flipped to the first page and tapped the words. “I don’t know the language.”
“What?” That was nonsense! It was written in plain English.
I scooted over closer with a scoff, and tapped the page. But as I started to tell Kale I was done with his foolishness, I glanced at the writing. Scrolls and loops I couldn’t decipher covered the smooth paper. “What the hell?” I murmured.
“So you can understand why I find it hard to believe you’ve read any of it.” His hand covered mine, pulled it gently off the tome. “This isn’t a toy, Halle. It’s a vessel of great magic, written by one who gained more power than he should have. And you have no business fiddling with it, even if you can make out the words.” He snapped the book shut and latched the clasp.
You can trust Kale. Maude’s words echoed in my head.
“His family was attacked by men on wild black horses,” I blurted. “They were serfs in a village he refused to name. He doesn’t give his own name, unless it comes later.”
Kale stared at me with wide-eyed incredulity.
“He says his journey began ten years after the dragons left the world, that they left of their own accord.” I wasn’t going to stop and question the words that tumbled out of my mouth, no matter how ludicrous they sounded. I kept on, not thinking about what I was saying. “And those horsemen weren’t men. He became them. Whatever they are. I think they were demons.”
With a prolonged blink, Kale leaned back against the sofa. He opened his mouth, then closed it again, and stared straight ahead at the door to his room. After a few silent minutes, his gaze slid to me. “Did Spring tell you these things?”
“Spring?”
“It’s lore. Anyone could tell you Rafini’s legend.”
“Damn it!” I thumped my hand down on the coffee table. “No, Spring didn’t tell me anything. I read it. It was in plain English. Right there for me to see.” I jerked the book off the table, passed my hand over the sigil, and the clasp opened again. I flipped open to where I’d left off. Once more, fancy lettering stood out, as English as it had ever been.
“I knew not where I was going, only that I had to follow. That somewhere in that forest was the answer to what happened that night. The origin of those beasts. And I would not return until I had discovered who sent them, though I was beginning to suspect the question was what sent them. My dreams, my waking thoughts, all told me they were not from the plane of man, but from some other existence, and one I would be wise to never enter.”
I slapped the book shut and scowled at Kale. “Is that proof enough for you?”
He grabbed the book out of my hands and tossed it absently on the couch beside him. “You shouldn’t have this.”
Annoyance surfaced. I did not need him acting like my father. “He called the lightning without knowing how. That’s my book, Kale. It’s meant for me.”
“No,” he answered emphatically. “You are not a windwalker.”
“How do you know? What am I then?” I shot to my feet, full of indignation and stared him down, daring him to argue. “Why can’t I control my powers—you know it’s not because of inflection. It’s something else. And the camarilla sent you after me because of it. There’s no other reason they need me when they have you.”
“There’s a hundred reasons they want you, not one of them because anyone thinks you’re a windwalker. God forbid if they did!”
“Why? Why, Kale?”
He covered his face with his hands, his expression tightening with a grimace. “Because they thought I was when I could open this book. It nearly killed me!”
His outburst was enough to stamp out my fury. I froze, blinking dumbfounded. A second later, I managed, “But you can’t read it. I can. How do you know I’m not a windwalker? I feel it, Kale. That book speaks to me.”
He rose to his feet and grabbed me by the shoulders. His face loomed inches from mine. “Because if you are, you will die. I won’t let that happen. I can’t.”
As shock roiled through me, his mouth captured mine, fierce and demanding. There was a desperation to his kiss I didn’t fully understand, but it consumed me, erasing the book and all its meanings from my mind. I fisted my hands in his hair, returning the urgent stroke of his tongue with everything I had.
But that ardent passion knocked me off balance and I stumbled. Kale grabbed for my waist, but his feet tangled with mine, unbalancing me more. We fell, he somehow managing to twist just enough so we didn’t go crashing into the table, but instead toppled onto the couch. I landed with a squeak, he with a grunt.
He broke the kiss long enough to chuckle. His humor faded in a blink, though, and he framed my face between his hands. “I won’t lose you, Halle,” he whispered. “I want you too much to let go.”
Rendered speechless by the raw honesty in his words, I answered with a slow nod, then lifted up and drew his mouth back to mine. Everything spun away beneath the languor of his kiss, the slow way he claim
ed possession over me. And I let him have it, let him have all he desired.
I wanted it too—everything he had to give. The world around us, the demands of the camarilla, the unanswered questions about my purpose, ground to a stop. There was nothing between us, nothing to divide us, and I held in my arms a man who wanted me, whatever that brought. His weight was comfortable, his body perfectly aligned with mine. The hard catch of his breath made mine stagger, and the heavy beat of his heart against my breast sent delightful shivers trickling down my spine.
He shifted, pressing his hips more firmly into mine as he brought his hand between our bodies and his fingers closed over my breast. Pleasure swept over me. I arched my back with a quiet groan. The ache of arousal burned deep inside, and I flexed my hips to sate the need against his confined erection.
Kale broke the kiss on ragged exhale. His sky blue gaze bore into mine, full of silent questions.
“It’s okay,” I whispered. “I want this. I’m certain.” We’d been heading here since the instant I decided to look after him in the woods…and it felt right. Perfect, to be frank.
“Not here,” he murmured.
Graceful as a cat, he slid off the couch, gathered me close and lifted me into his arms. I rested my head on his broad shoulder as he carried me through an adjoining doorway into his bedroom. A bump of his heel nudged the door shut behind us.
Kale laid me on the bed, and I closed my eyes to the pleasant scent of his cologne that clung to the pillows. Oh, yes, this was right, indeed. A full night of breathing him in, being absorbed by that comforting touch of spice. Smiling, I reached for his hand.
When his fingers laced with mine, I tugged. He set a knee between mine and leaned over me, a smile playing on his lips as well. “You look good in my bed.”
“Mm.” I stretched beneath him. “Being here feels good.”
His lips danced over the line of my jaw. “Make no mistake, Halle. I meant it—I won’t let you go without a fight. Certainly not if we do this.”
Was I okay with that, with surrendering my complete freedom? Yes…because he’d never ask me to give it up. I sensed that inherently. If I wanted to walk away, he wouldn’t stop me, even though he was more than capable of doing so.
Even more, another realization hit me hard. “That’s mutual, Norwood.”
His low chuckle was the last thing I heard. He dipped his head, trailed the tip of his tongue down the side of my neck. At the same time, his hand slipped beneath my oversized T-shirt and skimmed up to encircle my bare breast, and all sound was drowned out by intoxicating pleasure. A fleeting thought of protection drifted to my mind then quickly floated to the wayside, excused by the rationalization that he’d been alive one hundred and fifty-two years—magic likely created all sorts of means of birth control.
The other, darker possibility that my father’s abuse had made it impossible for me to become pregnant didn’t even surface, though every time before it had remained central in my mind. Somehow, Kale erased that nightmare. Wiped it completely out of existence.
His hands were warm, his fingers skilled, and I raked my short nails down his back, writhing beneath him in a quest for more. More heat. More skin. More him.
Sensing my growing desperation, he leaned back far enough to drag my shirt over my head, then doffed his own and tossed both absently on the floor. Sheer delight flooded me as I flattened my palms against his hard abs and skated them up to his collarbone. And the look on his face, the pleasure that filled his expression, made my heart stumble. Emotion I didn’t know what to do with threatened to suffocate me. To escape it, I turned to what I understood, what I could control—I dropped my fingers to his waistband and popped the button on his jeans.
Kale’s eyes snapped open, the burn within them heady. He said nothing, though, as I lowered the zipper and dipped my hand inside to wrap my fingers around the length of his hard shaft. He watched, the muscles in his jaw flexed, but he remained silent. And still as stone.
Puzzled, I furrowed my brow. “Something wrong?”
He shook his head. “Only that if you continue, I won’t have anything left to give.”
Testing that theory, I swept my thumb over his swollen tip and gave a firm squeeze. Kale let out a shuddering breath then dropped his hand to tug mine away. “Troublemaker.”
I grinned. “You think?”
“I know.” With a playful growl, he pinned both my wrists above my head and lowered his body against mine. His lips closed around my distended nipple.
“Oh…wow…” I murmured, breathless. Arching my back, I fought the intoxicating pull that sent heat scorching through my veins. The needy ache inside me deepened to excruciating limits, and I spread my thighs, arched my hips in search of contact.
Kale’s mouth tugged harder. But his hand, his delightfully warm hand, slipped over my abdomen and crept beneath the elastic of my pajama pants, to sweep even lower and slide between my damp folds. I gasped at the heat of the pleasant intrusion.
His answering, low groan reverberated against my chest.
I lifted into his touch, stroking myself against his hand. He pressed one finger deep inside, provoking me into a strangled mewl of pleasure. Then another, and I began to tremble with ecstasy.
That was all it took for his lazy assault on my senses to come to an abrupt end. He drew back, gasping hard, and fisted his hands at my waist. One decisive yank left me bared to him. He stripped away his jeans just as quickly. And then his body descended over mine. Holding himself on his hands, he hovered, scant millimeters away from full-on contact, and closed his eyes.
As I wound my arms around him, I watched the purposeful way he drew in one breath after another.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered. “Give me a minute.”
“No.” I pressed the flat of my palm into his lower back and arched into his body. I didn’t want him to take his time and think about what he was doing. If he did, I might also, and might very well think myself right out of the bed. I wanted him on the edge, so absorbed in the intensity of feeling that it was necessary to give over to pleasure.
He collapsed against me, capturing me in a kiss that reached down deep and turned me inside out. His erection nestled against my center, a taunting promise of incredible bliss.
“Kale,” I urged quietly with a nudge of my hips.
“Christ, Halle,” he ground out between clenched teeth. “I’m barely hanging on here. I really don’t want to embarrass myself.”
With a deliberate, hard, thrust against him, I insisted more emphatically, “Fucking move.”
It wasn’t intended to be funny, but he chuckled. And he did as I requested. He drew his hips back, and with one slow push forward, filled me full of him. My eyes closed at the overwhelming sensation. He was thick and hard, and the heat of him soaked into my veins. He was so…everywhere. Consuming me, lifting me up to heights I had never known, and promising to catch me when I inevitably fell. I held on tight and began to move.
Kale matched my rhythm in perfect counter motion. His deep thrusts left my entire body tingling. But still, I wanted, needed more. I pushed back harder, urging him on as I chased my own sweet release. Steady and purposeful soon transformed into hard and frenetic.
Lost to sensual abandon, we hit the breaking point of ecstasy at the same time. I wrapped my legs around his waist, taking him as deep as I could, and squeezed with my thighs as rapture flooded my senses. His body tensed against mine, then shuddered powerfully, and he let out a throaty groan that I only dimly heard. As the sound became lost in the high-pitched ringing of my ears, he lowered his full weight onto my body and rested his cheek on my shoulder.
Gradually, I found the ability to move my weighty arms and slid my hands up the broad expanse of his back. I held him close, and he held me, the cool air kissing our perspiration-slickened skin.
It was Kale who broke the tranquil silence. “Did you…?”
I let out a soft laugh. “How could you miss it?�
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“I didn’t.” He nuzzled the side of my neck. “But I wanted to be certain. You’re amazing, Halle. Absolutely.” He pressed a lingering kiss to my collar bone. “Amazing.”
I didn’t particularly think so. I mean really, what had I done, moved a little to the left at the right time? To the right, maybe? Still, the compliment wasn’t lost on me, and my heart fluttered. My cheeks also heated, and I turned my head before he could notice. Praise wasn’t something I encountered regularly, certainly not in bed.
“I could stay here inside you all night long,” Kale whispered. He brought a hand to my cheek then slid it through my hair. “I don’t know what it is about you, but when I’m with you, everything feels…right.”
Shit, what was I supposed to say? I’d thought the same thing a dozen times at least, but echoing his comments seemed trite. And he was so genuine. So honest. I didn’t want to cheapen his words. So I turned back to face him and twisted enough to kiss his forehead.
That seemed to be enough. Kale snuggled closer and squeezed me affectionately. “You’ll stay, won’t you? The rest of the night?”
“Yeah, I’ll stay. They’ll talk though, and judging by Beth’s remarks, they won’t be happy.”
“Screw Beth,” he mumbled on a yawn. He drew in a deep breath and slowly pulled himself from within me. Twisting over my body to lay beside me, he scooped me up and took me with him so I lay with my head on his chest and one leg entwined with his.
That tiny bit of tenderness brought embarrassing moisture to my eyes. No man ever had held me after sex. Not that I wanted any of them to, but still it would have been nice if someone had tried. Kale didn’t hesitate. He sheltered me in his embrace, gently pulling his fingers through my hair like I belonged tucked against his side.
I blinked back tears before they could overwhelm me and concentrated on less intimidating things. “I want to go back to the casting chamber tomorrow.”
Before the Storm Page 14
