Right Through Me (The Obsidian Files #1)(24)

She swayed, delineating a magic circle with the trailing hues of her sig. The shimmering discs on her belt tinkled. Her skin was brushed with velvet shadows, dusted with gold sparkles beneath the shifting colors.

So beautiful. Though too thin. The point of her jaw was sharp. Her wide green eyes fascinated him. And her full, soft mouth made sweat trickle down his spine.

He was tuning to her frequency. He could almost read her completely now. Her sig patterns seemed like a language he once knew but had forgotten. That cornflower blue fading to hot violet above her heart said something beautiful about tenderness and endurance.

A vortex like that could swallow him up. He’d dive right in. Willingly.

He no longer wondered if she were an agent of Mark Olund, despite the data running in the back of his mind. Those frayed, ragged holes in her sig were more important. More worrisome. He’d seen them in his crew in the Midland days and afterwards, when they were in hiding, struggling to find their way. Misfiring energy patterns that resulted from chronic fear, stress, PTSD. Dark, uneven patches consistent with sleep deprivation, malnutrition.

She needed more protection than she would ever admit to. Noah set the thought aside for now. She was safe here with him.

When the music died away, she was arched back on the floor, offering herself in a pool of purple veils. Pulsing petals of pink and violet opened out around her heart like a blossom of light. The music slowly faded away.

The silence extended, filling the room.

The data run finished processing automatically. He felt the slight mind bump as it stopped. The results were in. She was not Mark’s employee. She was something far more dangerous.

She was his. All his. Completely open to him. Waiting.

He leaned forward, elbows on his thighs, wondering what the hell he was going to do with this hard-on. He shifted his chair. Afraid to speak.

He’d always made decisions based on what was safest for the people in his charge. Not now. This felt like lunging for survival. He wanted to shout it. Mine, mine, mine! It’s my goddamn turn for once, and I claim this for myself! Fuck you all!

She rose in one fluid, continuous motion, and bowed to him. The gesture was a graceful ritual, ceremoniously marking the end of one thing, the beginning of another, but he was transfixed by the jiggle of her rounded breasts. The shape of her ass as she bent over. The image filled his mind. Her, on all fours, moaning with delight. Him, naked behind. Cupping those soft tender globes while he slowly penetrated her.

He thought of clapping, but it seemed like not enough. Reverent silence was more like it. But his face felt strange and hot. His throat tightened.

What the f*ck? Was this what a panic attack felt like? Jesus. He stabbed the remote to turn the dim lights off.

She made an inquisitive sound.

“I’m sorry.” His voice felt strangled. “I just . . I can’t.”

“Are you all right?” Her triumphant glow faded and softened. She looked sweet, now. Colors could be sweet, too. Like flowers in the rain.

“Give me a second,” he forced out. “Please. Don’t say anything for a minute.”

She glowed patiently in the dark, while he silently fell to pieces.

“Can I help?” she asked finally.

He shook his head. He felt as if a mask had been ripped off him. Whatever was underneath was not human. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be.” Her voice was as light as smoke. “It’s OK.”

He started to laugh. Big mistake. It intensified the sensation gripping him, which he had not even fully recognized until this moment. Oh God, no.

He was fighting not to cry. Noah Gallagher, CEO and owner of Angel Enterprises, ice-cold ex-thief and con man, hyper-trained, tech and bio-enhanced commando warrior, captain of a secret army of fugitive freaks, veteran of bloody battles, on the verge of crying. About what?

He hated not knowing. Hated losing control.

He pushed his chair back, rummaged in his desk for the envelope he’d prepared, and stood up, holding it out. “Take it. Go. It’s not you. I have no idea what . . .” He cut himself off and tried to swallow. “Just go.”

She just stood there in the midst of her cloud of colors. Reached out to take it. His altered vision made the white envelope seem to glow like the moon in her hand.

He realized, abruptly, that he couldn’t be with someone like her anyway. His wiring wouldn’t sustain that kind of voltage. She’d drive him over the edge.

And it wasn’t like he had that far to go.

He went to the closet. Fumbled with the panel and pulled out her coat. “I’ll be gone when you come out, so I’ll say goodbye now. Thanks for the dance.” He held out the coat. “So, ah. Whenever you’re ready.”

She wasn’t ready. She just looked down at the envelope. Puzzlement colored the space around her head. She wanted to know what the f*ck his problem was.

He cleared his throat. “Please,” he muttered.

She laid the envelope back on the desk. “So, it didn’t work?”

He was confused. “What?”

“Your experiment. The good feeling you had this afternoon. You didn’t have it this time around? That’s too bad. I’m really sorry, considering what you paid.”

He almost laughed but stopped just in time. “No, actually. It worked too well.”

“Ah. Too real,” she murmured. “I know how that is.”