Soulceress (The Mythean Arcana Series Book 2)

by Hall, Linsey

  But still.

  “All right, lassie. I win, you drop it. You win, I’ll tell you why I couldn’t go into the howf. Best two out of three.”

  She smiled, then dealt the flop.

  Damn it. His hand was shit and had little chance of improving when the next cards were revealed. He looked up to see her smiling at the cards, lush red lips parted in a grin that caught his breath. Silken black hair swept over her shoulder and hung down in waves, making him wonder what the strands would feel like between his fingers.

  H stifled a frustrated groan and dragged his gaze away from her lips and his mind away from thoughts of throwing her on the bed and finding out just how good she tasted.

  But he wasn’t able to get his mind back on the game. Within minutes, she’d won that hand with cards that would have beaten his no matter how good his focus. “That’s the best hand you’ve had all night,” he said.

  “Lucky me.” She handed him the cards.

  He accepted them and dealt out their hands, glancing up once to see her peering hard at the cards. Didn’t she trust him to deal fairly? He scowled.

  He glanced at his cards, cursing silently when he saw a two and a nine against a flop that did him no favors. The next two cards laid upon the table didn’t help.

  He’d lost.

  Esha confirmed it by laying her hand upon the table and grinning at him. Her cat slinked around the feet of her big chair, peering up at him and flicking its tail.

  “Well,” she said, letting the word hang in the air as she refilled his glass and her own with the bright amber liquid that so perfectly matched her eyes.

  Carefully, he placed his cards on the table and leaned back in his chair. He focused on breathing in, then breathing out as a chill ran over his arms with little mouse feet. Was he really going to reveal to another how he had become what he was? To her?

  She sat across from him silently, her eyes searching his as she waited for his tale. He’d made a deal, and he never went back on his word.

  “I’m happy to wait all night,” she said. Instead of being challenging as he’d expected, her voice held an undercurrent of understanding. Patience. Considering what he’d put her through, she deserved to know.

  “I doona have a soul.” The weight of a secret held hundreds of years too long lifted off his shoulders even as his breath stuck in his lungs and his head buzzed. What could she possibly think of him now?

  There was nothing more important in their world than souls. They were the core of a person, the part that gave a Mythean immortality on earth or allowed mortals to pass on to their afterworld. Without it, he was a… thing. Not really a Mythean, not really a mortal.

  When he caught her gaze, he saw surprise. Shock, even. Her lips parted on a wordless question as she searched his face, no doubt looking for the joke.

  “You’re… serious?” she asked.

  He nodded.

  “How? How is that even possible?”

  Possible? How could she not know it was possible? She was a soulceress. Souls were her stock in trade.

  She scooted forward in her chair and reached out a trembling hand to touch him. He shuddered when he felt the warmth of her hand against the side of his neck. It radiated through him, a brand that felt as though it would last forever. Unable to help himself, he reached up and pressed her hand against his unnaturally cold skin, reveling in the warmth of her.

  He watched warily as her gaze searched his face and then traveled down his body to settle at his feet.

  “So that’s why,” she murmured.

  Cold returned to him when she withdrew her hand. He wanted to reach out and snatch it back, but resisted. He was stronger than that. He’d borne this alone for centuries, as he deserved to. Just because she now knew didn’t mean that he needed her any more than he had before he’d told her.

  “Why, what?” he asked, grateful when her gaze returned to his. Maybe she’d see more than he wanted her to, but the connection he’d formed with her by revealing his true self provided desperately needed oxygen in an airless world. He could breathe better just by catching her gaze with his own.

  “Your shadows don’t stick to you. They’re from the people you’ve killed, aren’t they?”

  He nodded once, a sharp jerk of his head that connected to his heart and pulled at it the way it did every time he thought of that long-ago night. His cousins hadn’t deserved the death he’d delivered with a joyful heart, and now, because he’d sold his soul, the evil deed didn’t even have a way to haunt him properly.

  “You have no soul for them to cling to, so they hover around your feet. I always wondered why that was.”

  Not knowing what to say, he downed the rest of his whiskey. He met her eyes as he lowered his glass, surprised to see no judgment in their depths.

  Damn her. He should be judged, gods damn it, and found wanting. But in her eyes there was only curiosity. He shifted in his seat, poured another glass of whiskey, then completely ignored it in favor of staring at the complex woman sitting across from him.

  “How did you lose your soul?”

  The whiskey in his blood urged him to tell her, but more than that, it urged him to kiss her. Sitting across from her all night had made his blood hum. Even telling her his secrets hadn’t dimmed that. The opposite, really. It made him want to be closer to her—the only one who saw him for what he was. With every truth he told her, she saw him more clearly. First with her innate ability, then with the truths that spilled from his lips.

  Her ability to see the truth of him had once unsettled him. It still did, but in a different way.

  “How about another hand of cards?” He needed to change the subject before she changed too much of him. Being alone, presenting his facade to the world, was the way he’d learned to cope. She slowly peeled his facade away, but what would she find when she finished? What would he find?

  She looked askance at him, obviously questioning his tactics in changing the subject, but agreeing nonetheless. “I don’t know. What are the stakes?”

  “They ought to be higher, aye?”

  She nodded warily, obviously still wanting to pry more information out of him.

  “You win, I answer a question. I win, I get a kiss.” Had he just said that?

  Aye, a kiss would distract her from her questions, and him from his painful musings. With bated breath, he watched her, wondering what she would say.

  “Seriously?” Esha said, thrill and shock competing within her, each eager to be the victor.

  He was trying to distract her. That was it. And it was working. With a shaking hand, she added her cards to the pile and shuffled them, embarrassed to see the deck falter in her hands.

  She looked up from the cards, stunned to see the sincerity in his face. He’d had a couple of glasses of whiskey, sure, but not enough to affect a man as big as he.

  He actually wanted to kiss her. But then, he had in the past as well. It was her species that repelled him. He objected to what she was, not what she could do to him with a kiss.

  “I don’t know if I want a kiss from you anymore.” I definitely do.

  He made her crazy. Made her cry and be all weird and emotional and feel too much. It sucked and inevitably led to dangerous places where hearts were broken. Except, he had bared his soul to her. Told her truths that she doubted he’d ever told anybody. That had to count for something.

  “I can make you want it.” His voice rumbled low, sending a shiver through her.

  She reached down and sank her fingers into the Chairman’s fur, desperate to ground herself and steel her heart against Warren’s eyes, which tracked her movements with a heat that burned her to the core.

  Slowly, he reached for the cards held loosely in her hand, his fingers brushing hers as he took the deck. She stifled a gasp at the spark that traveled up her arm. The Chairman stalked out of the room, clearly wanting no part of what he sensed was coming.

  She watched Warren deal the cards, his big hands deft on the little rectangles
of paper. He took her silence as assent, and by the time she had her cards in front of her and the flop laid out, she realized he’d distracted her from magically stacking the deck.

  So this would be a true game of chance. Did she want to win, or lose? A glance at her cards revealed that it could go either way.

  Warren’s golden brows drew together as he looked at the cards, but she couldn’t tell whether it was from worry or concentration.

  Here goes nothing. She nodded at him to lay down the next card, and when it still didn’t reveal her fate, she nodded again. When he laid down a jack, a shiver of anticipation crept along her nerve endings. She had a good hand, but not a sure thing.

  With a bracing breath, she laid down her hand, looking up to see the light of triumph flash across Warren’s face as he laid down his own.

  “Damn it,” she said, knowing from his look alone that she’d lost. Lost because she’d forgotten to use her magic to turn the tide, even after seeing the dismal flop. What had she really wanted if she was becoming so careless? Nervously, she rose and backed away from him. Only when her back hit the wall did she realize that she was making the situation worse. Nowhere to run now.

  “So, tomorrow then?” she asked.

  “No, lassie, I’ll be taking my prize now.”

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  Esha’s eyes widened as Warren advanced on her with a prowling gait. He was huge, looming above her and stacked with muscle and masculinity that made her heart pound with nerves and desire.

  For tonight, he was hers. Despite all the things he’d said to her in the past, she still wanted him. And it terrified her.

  She couldn’t lose her heart to him. That would lead to the same place it had with Brian. With all the other Mytheans with whom she’d ever tried to start something. Warren wanted her now because he’d never had her, but once the novelty wore off, he’d remember what she was. There was no way she could bear it if he turned from her once this was over.

  But she’d made the bet. And she wanted this. She’d just keep her heart separate. Esha straightened to meet him, wincing slightly at the pull in her back. But she didn’t cower, especially from the man she wanted so badly.

  She looked up at him when he stopped in front of her and met the heat of his gaze. His strong hands gently gripped her upper arms. Heat flared within her from that simple touch and her breath caught when he bent his head to hers.

  She rose up on her toes and pressed her lips to his. The heat of his mouth and body threatened to go to her head, so before she lost her senses, she dragged her mouth away. “There. A kiss.”

  He looked down at her with a grin, then stepped closer until she was pressed against the wall by the steel strength of his muscles. “I doona think so, lassie. I want a proper kiss.”

  “A proper kiss?”

  “Aye. I know you’re capable of it. I want a kiss like the one the other night. You wanted me then, and I’d bet a fortune you want me now.”

  “I don’t.” She looked away.

  “Aye, lassie. Is that why you’re trembling?”

  I’m not. But she was. He wanted to kiss her. Knowing what she was, he still wanted her. But for how long?

  She repeated her vow not to fall for him again, then rose up on her tiptoes with a sense that this was something different, something new and very possibly stupid, and pressed her lips to his.

  Warren held himself stock still when he felt her breath feather across his lips. Then connection. A groan tore from his chest when her lips met his. Such a light touch, but it was the most delicious thing he’d ever felt.

  She might be a damn soulceress, but she was his.

  He moaned and drew her against him, fitting her sleek curves against the harder planes of muscle that ached for her. “That’s it, lassie,” he muttered as her tongue traced his lips. He ran his hands up the curve of her waist, wanting to tear the clothes from her and lick every inch of her flesh.

  Be easy with her. Though she’d shown no sign of pain this evening, she was injured and he’d be damned before he’d hurt her any more.

  Gently, he cupped the back of her head and thrust his tongue between her lips, the honey of her kiss making his head swim.

  Must stop.

  He broke away and leaned his forehead against hers. Tension thrummed along all his muscles, his cock so hard it nearly pained him. The scent of her hair clouded his mind, and all he could hear were his breaths sawing in and out of his lungs. But then the sight of her glistening lips nearly stole his good intentions.

  “We have to stop. Your back is injured…”

  “My back is fine. I swear.” She yanked his mouth back to hers and arched her back until her breasts pressed against his chest. At the feel of her softness, his resistance broke. He plunged his tongue between her lips and moaned when she returned his kiss. Such fierceness.

  Desperate to feel more of her, he stroked the skin at the small of her back where her shirt rode up. She gasped, and the delicious sound sent a shiver across his skin.

  “You like that, do you?” he said at her ear.

  Gently, he ran his hands up her back, cripplingly grateful that her wounds had healed and she would mend. She was so soft. Too soft, too precious, to be torn so gruesomely. He wanted to kiss every inch of her back, to make it all go away. From his mind, from hers, so that neither of them had to relive these painful and terrifying last days.

  He dragged his mouth from hers and ran his lips along the side of her neck, inhaling her scent while savoring the feel of her beneath his lips and hands. Soft and curved against his hardness, but with muscle and strength that protected her. Cleverness that protected her.

  He loved her strength, her daring and courage—the traits that made her put her life in danger every day. As she’d done for him. After every terrible thing he’d said to her. He hadn’t meant them, not truly. But she believed he had.

  She deserved better than he, something he’d been too stupid to realize when he’d been bothered by her species. When he’d been avoiding her because of what she was. Now he couldn’t care less.

  She was all he wanted. This.

  Esha shivered at the feel of his big fingers skimming across the sensitive skin of her back. Goose bumps broke out on her arms as he dragged his tongue along the side of her neck.

  “You’re so beautiful.” His gravelly voice at her ear made it so she could barely think straight. She should stop this. When they finished, he’d eventually look at her with derision again. Today or tomorrow, it didn’t matter. She couldn’t bear it. This was different from the one-night stands she used to keep the loneliness at bay.

  This would hurt her. This was something.

  He dropped to his knees in front of her. All thought of self-preservation flew from her mind.

  “Wh-what?” she stuttered, her hands flying immediately to his strong shoulders.

  She looked down at him. When she met his eyes, she gasped at the intensity of the desire within them. His big hands ran up her sides, supporting her and raising her shirt all at once.

  “What are you—” She gasped when she felt the heat of his tongue against her stomach. Her head dropped back against the wall, her eyes sliding closed at the delicious feeling of his rough hands against her sides, his hot tongue tracing its way along the waistband of her pajama pants.

  He was so close to her sex that she ached with anticipation. For something she’d never had, not when sex had always been about racing to the end and leaving. But with Warren…

  His mouth pressed lower, dragging her soft pants down until she felt the heat of his tongue through the lace of her underwear. When his hands ran down her sides to the edge of her pants, her eyes jerked open. Startled, she looked down at him and met his gaze.

  “Let me. Please.” His fingers curled beneath the waistband of her pants, awaiting her permission. She’d never seen anything like him, this golden god kneeling at her feet as if to worship her. With his hands. His mouth.

  “I want to feel you. To
taste you.” There was such need in his voice, such desire.

  Her mind buzzed. No one had ever said anything like this to her before. No one had ever looked at her like this.

  Her mind raced. A kiss was one thing, but this… If he did this and rejected her, it would break her.

  “I—I—” She couldn’t think straight with his big, hard body pressed against hers and his gentle hands poised to bare her to him.

  “Let me do this for you. For me.” His eyes were hot on hers. “Trust me.”

  Did she? Could she? She wanted this so badly. With the same fierceness that she saw in his eyes. Wordlessly, she nodded, unable to turn away from what he offered. Even if it was only for tonight—even if it broke her.

  She bit her lip as she watched him bend his head to her. How had it come to this? Sex had always been on her terms. But now, Warren had her pressed up against the wall while he stole her mind and her self-control. It made her vulnerable to him in a way that terrified her.

  But not enough to stop.

  She dropped her head back against the wall once more and closed her eyes, the anticipation so unbearable that she couldn’t look.

  Cool air brushed against her thighs, her calves, as he lowered her pants. With a press of his mouth to the front of her underwear, he looped his fingers through the sides and dragged them down as well.

  “Beautiful.” The word, so singular, yet so evocative, made her snap open her tightly closed eyes.

  Soon, his strong hands were supporting her hips, his mouth back on her stomach, teasing her with proximity and promises. He leaned back to look at her, and using his knee, nudged her legs apart. She felt so exposed, so vulnerable. Yet so powerful, with him on his knees looking at her as though she was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen. Her heart threatened to pound out of her chest.

  She cried out when he blew a puff of breath against the curls at her sex and her hands shot down to sink into his hair, whether to stop him or press him against her, she wasn’t sure.

  The first stroke of his tongue against her flesh made a cry break from her throat. The second parted her sex and dragged a groan from Warren.