Please don’t let him kill me. The liquid depths of her eyes seemed to scream in silence. Save me.
The bullet within the chamber watched with eager eyes as James raised his gun. The man didn’t move with his usual grace. Instead, his arm rose like a marionette dancing on the end of invisible strings.
His throat worked tirelessly, even as the muscles of his shoulders fought the invisible force moving his body. The malachite jewels set in his face glittered with refusal, even as he leveled his barrel. “No,” his strained voice hissed in the void of his hiding place. “I might miss.”
I trust you. The little girl closed her eyes and the bullet charged forward, the bang of gunpowder discharging, the only warning the monster had.
The projectile was small but it did the job. It heated the air as it traveled the considerable distance in the blink of an eye. Olyve’s consciousness spread from its metal depths, transferring from James to the little girl as she moved by her small face. Half a second later, she was the new owner of this ball.
Teele took a fortifying breath, knowing he was about to die and Olyve felt her own chest rise, mimicking the shaky last inhalation. The bullet ripped through the soft tissue at his chest. She smelled the spent spark of black powder and choked back a scream when muscle ripped into slick ribbons of meat. The sick cracking noise of bone being shattered filled her ears.
Olyve saw through the eyes of a dying man as her foreign body dropped its captive. James rushed forward, scooping the child up and for a split second, her own heart ached with want and loss. The stuttering pump of Teele’s was fading, his body slipping into shock. The bullet burned in her body and she opened her mouth wide, knowing nothing would come out of it.
“Olyve. Olyve!” Someone was shaking her, trying to pull her away from the vision. She would have smiled if she were able. The vision was a killing one, part of the danger of opening herself so completely to an object. She didn't have the ability to escape.
“Wake up, stubborn little chit. I’m not letting you go so easily.” The frantic tone of the voice warmed her in one way, even as she grew colder in another. The warmth tried to spread, to keep her sluggish heart going.
Tears pricked both sets of her eyes. He was going to have to watch her die.
“Like hell I will.”
She hadn’t realized she was speaking out loud until James’s mouth trapped hers, biting off whatever last lament she was going to muster. She pulled away from the vision, desperate for what he was offering. The kiss seared her throughout; the flickering flames he ignited melted the ice that reached out to grip her spirit.
Olyve had never wanted anything as badly as she wanted that kiss. She reached for it, stretching her thinning soul across the distance that denied her such a claim. Her arms reached up, heavy with death, and defied the demanding presence that hovered just past her sight. “Yes,” she murmured against the mouth tethering her to the world of the living. “James.”
Her lids lifted and focused slowly. James’s face hovered before her nose, suspended inches from hers with eyes overbright with concern. His frenzied expression smoothed over the moment she was looking back into his eyes. Moments later, he was shaking her shoulders.
“Why would you do that if it’s dangerous? You should have told me, Olyve. Your chest bled and I recognized the wound. Did you know you could have died doing your little parlor trick?”
He practically quivered with anger, his words little more than an anxious hiss. Olyve let her head loll for a moment before she brushed his hands to the side. He was right, the vest and shirt she’d been dressed in were soaked in ugly crimson lifeblood. She touched the spot she’d been bleeding from, finding the wound completely healed.
Her heart still thwacked against her ribs, but not with fear. She looked up at James. His hair stuck up in places as if he’d run his hands through it a number of times and if it were possible she would have said he’d gotten even more handsome.
While he stood to pace, she leaned back against the lounge. Death still clung like cobwebs in the corners of her mind. She licked her lips carefully, still tasting James.
Her hands were steady when she reached for the buttons of her vest. She carefully peeled it away, untying the cravat. She was halfway down the buttons of the shirt before she stood. “Will it be like the time in Andrew’s office?”
Her question caught the pacing man off guard. He turned toward her, doubtlessly ready to yell at her again. She’d already managed to remove the top layers of her clothing. She stood in front of him, naked to the waist with her hands on the button of her borrowed trousers.
“What in God’s name are you doing?” The question exploded from his lungs but not until after he’d gotten a good look. He spun around, giving her his back again after a moment’s hesitation.
Olyve stepped out of the pants carefully, moving to skirt the little table. “I’m asking you a question right now.”
James fisted his hands at his side, obviously uncomfortable. “What question is that?”
“If you touch me right now, will it be the same as before?” She laid a hand on his shoulder and laughed when he jumped across the length of the room.
He did his best to keep his eyes at a respectful level when he turned. “Olyve. I know that you’ve been through a lot over the last couple of days, but you really shouldn’t be…”
She shrugged, stalking him when he backed up again. “I may be a virgin but I’m not ignorant, James. Besides that, I’m already twenty-five and a Blackwell. I’m not concerned with propriety, no one wants me anyway.”
He snarled at the self-deprecating statement. “That’s not true.”
The little smile that she offered him clearly stated that she was manipulating him. “Are you saying that you want me, then?”
Unfortunately, James couldn’t force himself to care. “Of course I want you. Why wouldn’t I?” He clenched his fists, unwilling to take his eyes off of her but determined not to touch her.
She took careful steps closer to him, her body tinged in pink despite her boldness. “Why do you want me?”
She stopped moving a mere foot in front of him. James was well aware of each inch she ate up with her shy little movements. He dragged his hands painfully through his hair. “Damnit, Olyve. Put your clothes back on. We cannot do this.”
Through the fragile face of her bravado, doubt crept into her expression. “Is it because you’re worried someone will make you marry me? Because I wouldn’t—”
“It has nothing to do with that!” James trembled with the words. “I…realize that it’s fashionable for men to fight against being married but I’ve always wanted a wife. A real one.”
Her eyebrows rose. “A real one?”
“…my parents married as aristocrats are expected to nowadays. They didn’t love each other, barely spent any time together. I thought that was just the way it was but I had a friend whose parents adored one another. That’s what I want.”
Olyve giggled a sweet, open hearted sound. “I don’t know if I can give you that, James, but I want you. I want to spend this time with you, just in case.”
He scowled. “Olyve, I don’t want to be your—”
She cut him off by leaning up on tip toes and pressing her body against his. She wasn’t interested in whatever cool logic he was going to offer. Right now, all she wanted was to be with him. To stop fighting the promise of satisfaction she felt every time he was close to her. The butterflies turned into full grown ravens, flapping in her stomach.
“All I want is to be with you.”
The last of his reluctance swept away with her softly spoken plea. James wrapped his arms around her petite body, lifting her off the ground. He crushed her to his chest, sweeping his mouth over hers until she was dizzy with pleasure.
“You taste so sweet,” he murmured against her mouth, drinking deeply.
He moved across the room, laying her back against the bed she’d woken up in. His eyes flashed with longing and her heart thun
dered an eager reply. He pulled off his shirt and stretched out beside her, gathering her up closer to his body. He chuckled softly when she drank him in, an unmistakable sound of female appreciation humming in her throat.
Olyve’s eyes fluttered closed when his hands began to shape her body. His fingertips danced across the skin stretched tight over her stomach.
“Higher. Touch me like before.”
He laughed against the hot skin of her neck, brushing kisses from her chin to her collarbone. His hands slowly made their way higher, cupping the modest mounds of her breasts. She gasped when the same liquid heat from before slid from her body, preparing her for him. Only for him.
Her fingertips, bare of any coverings, ran through his hair, a light glow throbbing with power. She bit back a soft moan when he groaned, the light she exuded seeping into the sensitive skin of his scalp.
She hadn’t been lying when she said she wasn’t ignorant. She knew the mechanics of sex, even if she’d never experienced it herself. What she didn’t expect was the deep, engulfing need.
She ran her trembling fingers down the back of his neck, pushing pleasure into his skin as she went. Her power thrummed with paradisiacal intent, giving him everything she felt and more.
Her heart swelled beneath her breast. He massaged the sensitive flesh in his palms, brushing the pad of his thumb across her aching nipples. Olyve moaned low in her throat, arching her back up to meet his hands. “Your mouth. Use your mouth.”
He laughed, running his tongue over her pulse point. “Has anyone ever told you how bossy you are?”
She groaned in frustration, moving her hands away from his neck and sliding one between them. She had to bend a little but she pressed her own palm against his chest. When she unleashed the wealth of pleasure that stemmed from her memory, he moaned, his hips jerking involuntarily.
“I know what I like, so give it to me.”
His eyes tracked her when she laid back. She raised her hands above her head and he marveled at the light spreading from her fingertips downward. Taking it in stride, he repositioned his body, stroking a budded nipple with his tongue. She immediately rose up, trying to push deeper into his mouth, the sweetest little mewls leaving her lips.
Olyve turned her head from side to side, completely lost in the delicious feeling spiraling toward the center of her body. She pressed her thighs together, gasping when the hum intensified. Her body felt as if he pulled it in ten different direction and all of them were wonderful.
James caught her twisting hips with a free hand, and pushed her legs apart. She couldn’t have resisted if she wanted to, the sheer force of her arousal turning her into a slave to his ministrations. His fingers touched the slick, puffy folds of her sex, sliding upward to stroke the hub of nerves that throbbed in time with her weeping sheath.
The moan he dragged out of her was nothing compared to the way her body quivered with want. She felt something hot and promising build in the pit of her stomach, and rocked her hips against his long fingers. The slippery warmth that coated his hand should have embarrassed her but she was too far gone, her cries of passion tingeing her vision red.
Her hands bunched in the pillows behind her but she couldn’t stop moving, couldn’t stop the desperately delicious feelings from building. Her hips lifted up off the bed as James bit down lightly on her nipple.
If she were a glass statue, the pressure would have shattered her. Olyve didn’t have the time or control to do a thing but open her mouth. She tried to scream but the sound caught in her throat. She came apart under his fingers, the pull of his mouth against her nipples grinding her into a pile of fine, silky dust.
She barely heard the whispered praise, but she caught the tone of awe in James’s voice, even from the cloud she was perched on.
“You’re incredible, little sprite. All milk and honey.” He continued to lick her breast for a moment before removing his hand from the apex of her thighs. She watched him bring glistening fingers to his mouth. “Especially here.”
She blushed, lowering her head to hide her embarrassment. The action only caused her to gasp. James propped up on his elbow, one hand now resting on her thigh. The other was palming the thick, hard staff of his cock.
She swallowed, nudging the arm still touching her to move so that she could see him unobstructed. The secret, most male part of him was a sight to behold. Pulsing and eager, the impressive length of him strained with every slide of his hand. She ran her tongue over her lips again and he groaned, throwing his head back slightly.
Rolling onto his back, he switched hands, allowing her to watch as he squeezed a drop of pearly liquid from his head. On impulse, she reached out to touch it, shocking him. The glow of her fingertips seeped into his skin and he let out a low animalistic noise of pleasure. “Stop or I will be spent.”
Pulling back reluctantly, she pouted for a moment before pushing up to her knees. He watched her move, his narrowed eyes widening with pleased surprise when she straddled him. Before he could make a noise of disagreement, she was rocking the still-sensitive skin of her body against his.
Olyve moaned with each slide of her hips, watching his reaction through slitted eyes. She shifted lightly, knowing that if she tilted her hips at just the right angle, her body would take his inside. Her eyebrows furrowed with concentration but she stopped the moment he sought to guide her hips with his hands.
“I want to do it.” She could see it cost him to nod, letting her take control. She smiled even as his tool throbbed against her sticky body. It took several tries but she felt the moment her gentle prodding hit home. He pressed against an opening so tight it felt as if she might rip apart.
His eyes were clenched tight, his jaw a rock of muscle, but he kept his hands pinned to his side as she asked him to. Spurred on by his care, she pushed a little harder, taking him a little deeper. When the expected pain threatened her, she bit her lip to keep from crying out. He was big but her body relaxed; she invited him.
She hadn’t realized her eyes closed until his hand cupped her cheek. His hoarse offer touched her heart. “We can stop.”
“No, I want to.” She continued to inch down until she settled onto his lap. The burning lessened with each minute until she could move gently without any pain. The entire while, James had sat incredibly still even though she knew how badly he wanted to move.
“Is it better?” He whispered after a while.
She nodded, unable to speak.
“Then that makes you completely mine now.”
Tears slid down her cheeks and collided with her fingertips, though both of them knew they weren’t because of the pain. This time when he laid his hands on her hips, she didn’t protest, simply let him show her how to move. The pleasure was completely unexpected. She didn’t imagine she would get anything out of an action that began with such intense pain.
He moved gingerly at first, letting it build up slowly in her body. The simple motion had her crying out, the feeling of being completely full and ablaze more intense than before. She rode him until her head fell backwards and she couldn’t move, her lower body locked up in sheer anticipation.
He drove up into her, making her body bounce with the motion. Her aching breasts were caught in the same fire until her entire figure was shuddering with the need to climax. His deep, sensual grunts fueled her ignition. Just when she thought she couldn’t take anymore, something deep inside her snapped. A flood of pleasure released and she could barely remain upwards, her scream mingling with his.
She fell across his chest, panting and awed. Nothing had ever felt that good and she was sure nothing would ever again.
He kissed her forehead, shifting a little so that he could pull the covers over their misted bodies. Tomorrow they would get back to the real world, with the dangerous mission and the desperate need to protect the people they cared for.
But for tonight, they were going to wrap themselves in the sigh of light that promised them a forever.
Chapter Eight
/> “You want to do what?” The outrage in James’s voice should have brought her hackles up but instead it filled her with a light, effervescent laughter. She climbed out of the bed, looking out of the winter kissed window. The glass fogged and she liked to think that the reason behind the extra cloudiness was because of their earnest lovemaking. She stretched, feeling strangely energetic as opposed to the lingering relaxation that had slipped under her skin since they’d finished the first time.
“Relax, James. You should probably get dressed, by the way. You know we have a deadline to work against.” Her voice was light and playful, even though the situation was dire. She shrugged in the face of his scowl, moving to re-dress in her blood stained attire.
He growled under his breath, throwing his body from the haven of covers. She didn’t flinch when he scowled again, vanishing from the room. He returned a moment later with a bundle of clothing much like the ones she’d ruined with her blood. “You can’t be serious, Olyve. It almost killed you the last time you did it.”
Olyve dressed slowly, smiling at the way his eyes reluctantly dragged over her body. She reveled in the power she had over him, even as she realized it frustrated the hell out of him. He moved with all the grace and control of a jungle cat, jerking his own clothing over his body.
“I am very serious. You don’t have to worry. The last time, I tried to read something that was close to a dying man. This time I’ll draw the history from something safe.”
He scoffed, tucking the bullet and chain back into his pocket. “Safe. You don’t know where that thing has been.”
She lifted one shoulder casually. “I don’t need to know where it has been. I know what it is. It’s one of the artifacts, so it can’t be used to harm me.”
“Have you used your ability on one before?” When she didn’t answer him, he frowned. “I’ll take that as a no. You don’t know for sure that this will be safe, Olyve. You’re guessing and I can’t let you put yourself at risk like that.”
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