Rise of the Gryphon (Belador #4)(96)

“Remember, Evalle, that being compelled is not a joke. You might harm someone you’re with just as much as yourself.”

She’d gotten that part loud and clear when Flaevynn had said one misspoken word would take the life of those Evalle loved.

Watching Kizira almost choke had made her a believer.

Kizira reminded her, “Make sure you face the security camera when you leave, and hold up the Triquetra so Quinn will know what happened to his warded blade. As soon as you do that, I’ll teleport you.”

Evalle gave the priestess a thumbs-up. “Got it.”

Kizira disappeared in a swoosh of colors, and Evalle exited through the door to the hallway. She found the camera and made sure she faced it and pulled the Triquetra out of its sleeve long enough to be filmed. In the next two steps, she walked on a sidewalk in Storm’s neighborhood.

Nerves hit her all at once.

Would Storm forgive her? She had less than four hours, maybe the last hours she’d ever get to spend with him.

She touched her hair that fell past her shoulders. Kizira could have sent her here in warm-ups with dirty hair, but Evalle was freshly showered and outfitted in clean jeans, an aqua knit sweater, boots sans the fighting blades and a short leather jacket.

When she reached the walkway to his front door, fear gripped her chest.

What if he wasn’t here?

Or if he just shut the door in her face?

As much as needing him to warn the Beladors, she craved his touch. To feel him one more time. Swallowing past her thick throat, she pushed herself down the walk, up the steps and onto the porch.

When she reached out to knock, the door flew open and Storm stood there.

Tension vibrated the air until she couldn’t breathe.

All the things she’d thought about saying fled her mind.

“I’m sorry . . .” She lunged forward and he caught her. Powerful arms pulled her to safety, crushing her to him.

Her heart started beating again.

His mouth crushed hers. His hands were everywhere as if unsure she was really here.

She reached up and shoved her arms around his neck, holding on with everything she had.

Holding tight to everything she’d ever wanted.

Cupping her bottom, he lifted her up and spun her around. She hooked her legs around his waist. The door slammed shut. Her sunglasses went flying, but everything was dark inside and she didn’t need them anyhow. He backed her against the cold wood surface of the door. His hot body stoked the furnace building within her.

She grabbed his hair, dragging him closer, aching. Wanting to feel him everywhere.

His tongue plunged into her mouth, tangling with hers. She could kiss him for days without stopping. Her heart beat as loud as war drums in her ears.

Long fingers swept under her sweater, unclipped the front clasp on her bra and . . . oh, dear goddess.

His thumb brushed over her nipples that were tight and hurting for his touch. She arched up against him, feeling the long, hard ridge pulsing inside his jeans.

He growled and nipped at her neck, panting with labored breaths. “Can’t believe you’re here.”

“I can’t believe you’re stopping.”

A savage emotion lit his eyes.

She rubbed up against him and kissed his neck, then his ear, not sure if that was the right move. He growled a sound that came out closer to jaguar than man. She eased back and lifted her gaze to his, making one thing clear. “This is me. Not the armband.”

He pulled her to him in a shuddering hug and kissed her hair, his voice raw when he whispered, “I thought you were dead . . . or worse.”

There were many things worse than death in the supernatural world.

“I know.” She ran her lips over his eyes and cheeks, then his mouth, sharing her hunger and giving him all the feelings she’d held back too long.

The feelings she’d been too scared to share.

She was tired of being a coward with Storm.

He wrapped his arms around her and turned, moving through the house to his bedroom, where it was darker than midnight. She didn’t care where he went as long as he took her with him.

His mouth touched hers again and she drifted into a fantasy world of nothing but Storm’s touch. Firm lips kissed her, then caressed her cheek and her neck.

Her jacket came off with a sweep.

The man had the hands of a magician.

She felt herself falling back, cradled in his arms. He followed her down, nuzzling her neck as he lowered her to his huge bed. When he covered all of her with his body, he slowed his kisses to tender touches all over her face and neck, his mouth burning a path. He slowed the tempo in spite of breathing harder than Evalle could ever recall.

His fingers brushed her hair, then inched down over her chest. He moved with ruthless control, holding back instead of unleashing that powerful body.

She should have been terrified by the hot desire staring down at her, but she wasn’t and trembled with her own need. Reaching up, she clamped her hands on each side of his face, forcing his gaze to hers.

Storm still couldn’t believe he held Evalle. He was out of his mind with joy over having her in his arms. Knowing she was alive and safe. He was the danger right now, wanting to feel himself inside her. Sex terrified Evalle, and he was acting wilder than his jaguar.

Had he rushed her? “I’m scaring you.”

“No, you’re not.”