The Dark Calling (The Arcana Chronicles #5)(77)

“Evie, non. I’m here.” He cupped my face, using his thumbs to brush away my tears. “Not goan anywhere.”

He was here. But in this world, how long could we possibly have together? “Jack, I love you. I can’t ever lose you again.” Adrenaline and fear morphed into heat. Desire. I turned my head to nuzzle one of his palms, kissing the callused skin.

He sucked in a breath, and his big body tensed against mine. Combustion ignited.

When I faced him, his attention dropped to my lips, so I wetted them. His eyes met mine, his smoldering expression asking, Do you want this?

Mine answered: Try to deny me.

He bent down; I’d already gone to my toes. When our lips met, logic evaporated like a water drop on a sizzling skillet. I tasted cold and salt on his lips. Almost lost him. I deepened the kiss, tugging on his neck as he yanked off his heavy coat.

The tension that had been building between us erupted. I drank in his raw passion, unable to get enough. Between kisses, he tore off his soaked shirt as I snatched at his belt. His strong chest heaved breaths.

Tumbling to the pallet. More kissing. Tongues twirling. My God, he’s a sinful kisser.

As he helped me shed my wet clothes, he murmured in French how much he’d loved and missed me, how much he’d lusted for me. “Now you’re in my arms. I’ve imagined this so many times.”

The winds gusted, reminding me of when I’d first been with Aric. As soon as the thought arose, I felt myself shutting down, my hands settling on Jack’s muscled chest.

He sensed the change, drawing back.

My guilty gaze flitted to my wedding ring. Aric’s not coming for you; you can’t go to him. Circe’s MIA. Make a life with Jack, the man who deserves all the happiness you can give him.

I’d almost lost him tonight.

All I had to do was accept him and revel in the fact that he’d survived.

He grasped my hand. “Let’s take this off.” He gently drew the ring from my finger, like a reverse engagement.

A nullification.

But I let him. He set it beside the pallet.

“Be with me,” he said, his accent thickening. “Stay with me.” He nipped my bottom lip, as exciting and sexy as he’d ever been. “Let’s stop regretting and start living.”

With a breathless nod, I allowed myself to fall under his spell. I gave myself up to it, to him.

His brows drew together. “If I’m goan to love once, I’m glad it’s you, peek?n.”

In answer, I pressed my lips to the cleft in his rugged chin. I feathered kisses along his jaw, then down his neck. I felt his groan beneath my lips. Then I kissed the brand on his chest. It was part of our history, the one we kept making together.

Once we were naked, his heated gaze roamed over me. My body was changing. What would he think of my new shape?

“Mère de Dieu. You’re so goddamned beautiful.” I’d never felt more naked, more vulnerable, but he sounded . . . awed. “A divinité.”

My glyphs glowed brighter, the light reflecting in his gray eyes.

His head dipped, his mouth trailing down my body, seemingly everywhere. My eyes widened as he explored me with his wicked lips and seeking tongue. Between kisses, he’d nip my inner thighs.

I melted for him, my fingers tunneling into his thick hair. “Jack . . . Jack!”

As his rough hands kneaded and cupped, he groaned his delight. He teased me till I was at the very edge, till I was panting and writhing for more. Then he rose up between my legs, threading his fingers with mine.

He gazed down at my face—as he had when he’d taken my virginity in that suspended moment of time. “I’ve got you, bébé.” He’d often told me that, his way of saying don’t be afraid; you’re safe. Now those words held an aggressive undertone. As if he was telling me, “I’m never letting you go. Never.”

That tone thrilled me.

His rigid muscles quaked with anticipation. “à moi, Evangeline.” His hips tilted.

My back arched with pleasure. His sinful kiss stole my screams.





35


Day 583 A.F.





By what must have been morning, Jack and I lay side by side, catching our breath as the room stopped spinning. We’d had sex four times over the night.

In a dazed tone, I murmured, “It is like coming home.”

He grinned over at me. “That’s what I’ve been saying. When it’s good between us, it’s really good.”

Good? He’d set my nerves on fire.

When we’d slept together months ago, everything had been new for me, our feelings just taking root. This time we’d been different as people, two individuals deeply in love—who’d thought we would never have another chance to express it.

Rising up on an elbow, he peered down at my face, searching my expression. “How’re you feeling? Got to know, me.”

“I have no regrets, if that’s what you’re asking.” But now reality descended on me with all the finesse of a collapsed ocean liner.

“And guilt?”

I looked away. “Some.” Tons.

He pinched my chin, forcing me to face him. “None of that, Evie. We got no time for it.”

Though I agreed . . . “I can’t help it.” Aric was the ghost between Jack and me. Just as Jack had been the ghost between me and Aric.