Black Moon Draw(62)

The Shadow Knight wrapped his arms around her, pulling her soft body into his hard frame. She pushed at him in protest, and he hauled her into his lap in response. If his plan worked, he was not about to be left behind. Her hair smelled good, and he breathed in her scent deeply, ignoring the sensations of rocking.

“What the hell are you thinking?” she managed at last. Wriggling loose, she shoved him until she was able to see his face. Fear and confusion were on her pretty features.

“I am thinking you do not want me dead. The last time my life was threatened, you used magic to protect me,” he replied steadily.

“What is wrong with you? I . . . you just . . . are you insane?”

“I have been called much worse.”

“But if it doesn’t work, you die and I get to watch your world implode in two days!”

“Then so be it.” He refrained from saying what he wanted, that his world was going to implode anyway if she did not unlock her magic. His kingdom died today with him, or it died in three days without her power.

Holding her gaze, he waited. Emotions flew through her eyes. She sat between his legs, thighs pressed together and palms on his chest. His hands remained on her arms, in case they started to fall, and he studied her feminine features.

“I wish you hadn’t told me any of this,” she said in a hushed, mournful tone.

“Because you could walk away if you didn’t know.”

She nodded. “You aren’t the person I thought you were.”

“Good. Now get us out of here.”

“I can’t.” Her eyes watered. She lifted the medallion at her chest.

The Shadow Knight cupped one cheek in his large hand, marveling at how smooth her skin was. “What do you know of it?”

“We don’t have time for –”

“Think, witch,” he growled. “What do you know of the Heart?”

She blinked back tears. A hot drop hit his thumb and he wiped it from her face. Strands of brown hair tickled the back of his hand, and he waited. His battle-witch had an intelligence in her eyes that told him he was merely scratching the surface of who she was. It had taken some reflection for him to accept that not only was there another world, but she was from it.

Since accepting it, though, he had found her oddities much easier to tolerate and found her more intriguing than was wise. She needed time they did not have, and he used patience he rarely entertained out of necessity. They were both out of their element and almost out of time.

“It has a thousand years of magic. The warrior queen Naia used it to curse Brown Sun Lake and everyone else after her husband was killed. She seems to think . . .” She trailed off, nibbling on her lower lip. “She kind of left that part out when we talked in my dream.”

“’Tis an extension of you, a tool, the way a sword is for a warrior,” he replied. “It wants naught that you do not wish it to want. You can control it.”

The tower jolted and dropped once more, thrusting her into his arms. This time, the groan of the chain was loud, a grating last breath as it struggled to hold the tower.

The Shadow Knight circled her body with his thick arms, ready to protect her when they fell. “Quickly,” he urged her. “Devise some spell.”

“I don’t know how.”

This was not going quite as planned. He had hoped she would figure it out – before they started to fall. His mind worked fast, and he evaluated the other times the medallion flared to life. The only link: danger and . . .

. . . emotion. Her emotion. Strong enough to break whatever bonds were preventing her from using the medallion at will.

Without a word, he lifted her chin from his chest, looking deeply into her pretty eyes. Her face was inches away, and he traced the line of her jaw with one finger before resting his hand behind her neck.

She had stiffened and was still, her eyes dropping to his lips. A faint flush of pink spread across her cheeks, yet another sign she was aware of him the way he was her.

For a moment, they were no longer dangling from the skies, moments from their own deaths, with the rattle and smash of things rolling around them. Together, they were safe, wrapped in one another’s arms in their own world, breathing each other’s breath.

“You have a betrothed,” she whispered uncertainly.

The Shadow Knight claimed her warm, soft lips with his. To his surprise and satisfaction, she responded the way she had the night she passed out: with hunger and passion. He did not hesitate to deepen the kiss and slid his tongue between her plump lips into the velvety, wet depths of her mouth. She opened to him, her body pressing against his. Her distinct flavor was faint but present, and it spurred the fire in his blood, made him want to conquer something other than his world.

The spark of need was overpowering, stronger than he thought possible, a reminder she was not a normal woman, a physical acknowledgment he had begun to understand ran much deeper than desire.

Her arms went around his neck, and he maneuvered her body, lowering her back onto the bed and sliding his knee between her thighs. He rested half his body on hers.

Another jolt, and their kiss broke off. She held him tightly. The Shadow Knight looked up at the ceiling that would like smash into him soon, once they began falling. He covered her body with his, one arm beneath her to keep them pressed together while the other looped beneath her neck as he prepared to shield her head from hitting anything.