The Curse (Belador #3)(73)

He knew what she asked.

Anyone else saw only a Medb witch.

He saw the woman inside. “I see you, Kizira.”

That must have been enough for her. The muscles in her neck and shoulders relaxed. She sat up and kissed him, her mouth raiding his lips.

His hand shook when he reached for her gown. One tug and the diaphanous material fell away, turning into tinkling sparkles of color that drifted apart.

How long had he wanted to see this body again, to hold her in his arms? He suffered equal parts of longing for the woman who gave life to his heart and guilt due to wanting his enemy.

But this beautiful creature had never been his enemy.

She lifted her fingers to his face. “I am yours. I have always been yours.”

Quinn lowered his head, kissing her full mouth, taking all that she would give him. He grazed a finger over one of her breasts.

She shivered, warning, “You best be ready to break through my shields, Quinn, and prepared for anything you find. I need you to help me.”

Was she only saying these things to make breaching her mental shields easier on him … or to trick him? He’d know as soon as he entered her mind.

Quinn kissed her other breast, drawing her nipple into his mouth.

She whimpered.

Sparkling bolts of light shot through the air.

When he moved his hand down her abdomen and lower, she lifted into his touch. His fingers knew this woman, remembered teasing her into a sexual fever long ago. He reveled in her response, holding her at bay every time she danced closer to climax.

When she bowed off the bed, he removed his hand and mouth, watching as she trembled, waiting for him.

This time he returned with vicious precision and drove her hard to the edge of release.

It took all the discipline he possessed to ignore his need to have her and instead delve into her mind.

His fingers held her body prisoner as he fought his way past mental barriers that would protect a king’s treasures.

Sweat poured down his face. He was struggling to hold her at the pinnacle and focus on searching when his body screamed to join with hers.

She’d warned him about her shields.

Both of them had thought that would be his only obstacle.

By the gods, Quinn hadn’t considered that he could observe Kizira’s response from inside her mind. That alone almost sidetracked him with her inching closer to release.

Her emotions lay open to him, and no man who cared for a woman could ignore seeing his woman when she climaxed.

She cried out, pleading with him.

That was the moment her shields weakened.

Prepared for anything, he forced himself to drive deep into her mind just as his fingers pushed her over the cliff and she came apart in his hands.





TWENTY-THREE




No woman was worth this much aggravation.

Storm circled the living room of the house he’d rented in Midtown, just on the outer edge of downtown Atlanta. A quiet place for eleven o’clock at night. He liked this older neighborhood and had considered staying, but not anymore.

If he did, someone would die.

But he couldn’t leave until he found that damn Ashaninka witch doctor.

To find out anything new, he had to speak with Kai. But to speak to her, Storm had to calm down enough to cross from one world to another.

And that wasn’t going to happen unless he could close his eyes without seeing Evalle kissing the guy who had already tried to kill her once. Had she forgotten that Isak Nyght had taken a shot at her the night Sen teleported her to the Tribunal meeting?

Evidently so.

Evalle also overlooked Tristan’s betrayal and his constantly letting her down at the worst times. So why am I surprised she has no qualms about kissing someone who tried to shoot her?

Storm scrubbed a hand over his face, shoving his mind away from everything that antagonized his jaguar. His skin felt too tight already without riling the animal. As a Skinwalker, the full moon didn’t force him to shift.

The control was his … mostly.

But one woman kept him on tenterhooks so much that his jaguar stayed on the edge of wanting to break out.

Taking a couple of deep breaths, he stared at one of the fat, white candles sitting along his mantel and focused his mind. Battles were won through control.

He could win the one raging inside him.

When he felt ready to try again, he stepped over to the Navajo-design rugs in front of his hearth and sat down with his legs crossed. This time when he closed his eyes and took a deep breath, he pushed his mind past the current world to the meadow in another dimension where he’d find his guardian spirit.

Seconds ticked past while his breathing slowed to almost nonexistent.

Once he was in the deep trance, Storm said, “I humbly request the presence of Kai.”

“I am here, Storm,” a pleasant female voice called to him.

No longer bound to earth, he opened his eyes to the peaceful setting of green-leafed trees surrounding her quiet meadow.

She smiled as she sat down across from Storm. “How does your healing progress?”

“I’ll be fine.” Physically.

“What troubles you?”

A woman. Not just any woman, but a raven-haired, motorcycle-riding hellion who had been turning him inside out since he met her. But he hadn’t asked to meet with Kai to discuss Evalle. “I have had no more dreams of the witch doctor whose name we will not speak. I fear she will arrive unannounced and catch me unprepared, and thus put others at risk.”