A Darkness Strange and Lovely (Something Strange and Deadly #2)(101)

“I mean, thank you for caring enough to save my life tonight. Twice.”

His eyes ran over my face. “You saved my life, Empress. And Joseph’s. I reckon that makes us even.”

“Even,” I murmured, not particularly aware of what I was saying. My eyes were stuck on Daniel’s throat. On the faint flutter of his pulse. It was . . . fascinating. It meant he was alive. We were both alive.

Without thinking, I rolled onto my tiptoes and brushed my lips over that patch of skin, over his heartbeat.

He stiffened. I lurched back.

Heat flushed through me. “I-I am so sorry,” I tried to say, but my voice barely squeezed through my pinched throat.

And Daniel simply gaped at me, slack-jawed and frozen.

“I sh-shouldn’t have done that.” I skittered back several more steps, humiliation boiling inside me.

“Please—forgive me.”

Still he did not move, did not speak.

I retreated farther, wishing the front door were open so I could flee as far and as fast as my legs would go. Oh, why wasn’t Daniel saying something— anything? And why was he staring at me like that?

I turned to go, my hand outstretched for the doorknob.

“Wait,” he breathed.

I paused, glancing back.

And in three long steps he reached me. Then, his hands trembling, he cupped the sides of my face, and I swear his chest was so still, he could not have been breathing.

I know I wasn’t.

He ran his thumbs along my cheeks, down my jaw, over my lips. And his eyes seemed to scour every inch of me. Then, ever so slowly, Daniel Sheridan lowered his head and grazed his lips over mine.

And I felt as if my heart might explode.

Yet despite that—despite the fragile perfection of his touch—it wasn’t enough for me. It could never be enough. He smelled of sweat and blood and gunpowder. Of caves and torchlight and everything we had been through.

I loved him, and I would not let him walk away—not this time. So before he could draw back or change his mind, I pushed forward and kissed him again. Hard.

A low groan broke from his mouth, and now I knew my heart exploded. My brain, my skin, my lips —everything burned with feverish need.

His hands dropped to my waist, pulling my whole body to his. And now he kissed me, determined at first and then almost desperate. No matter how many times we pressed our lips together, it was not enough.

Then came the nip of teeth, a flick of tongue, and my knees turned to jelly. I almost fell backward.

But he would never let me fall. He crushed me to him, his body hot through his clothes—hot through my clothes. Then he guided me backward and pressed me to the door.

And all I could think—all I could feel—was that I needed more. More of him, more of Daniel.

His stubble scratched my face raw. I did not care. I was too lost in the feel of his lips, of his tongue . . . of any feeling that proved we were alive.

His lips left mine, but before I could beg him to stay, his mouth was tracing along my neck, biting and possessive, and now it was my turn to groan. I could barely breathe, my heart hammered too hard against my lungs, and I certainly could not see straight.

But the moment couldn’t last forever. Always, the real world had to interfere.

A weak voice called out. “Daniel? Eleanor?”

Daniel and I paused. Our hearts drummed and our breathing rasped—so loudly, I almost thought I had imagined that voice.

But the voice called again. “Daniel?” It was Joseph, and at that realization, Daniel and I staggered apart.

“Is all well?” Joseph called.

“Yes,” Daniel croaked, scrubbing a hand over his face. He blinked quickly, as if trying to grab a hold of who he was, where we were, and what had just happened. . . . He looked as completely lost as I felt.

“We’re . . . we’re coming,” he said, his head swinging toward the sitting room.

“Just a moment,” I chimed, forcing my legs to walk, to step away from Daniel. I knew that now was not the time for love, but that did not change how much my body wanted it to be the time. Did not change how much my pulse pounded in my stomach, painful and confused . . . and unfulfilled.

“Wait.” Daniel reached for me.

“No.” I slipped away from him, and a bitter laugh broke through my lips. It never seemed to be the time for Daniel and me.

I glanced back at him. “Joseph needs us, remember? He’s hurt. Badly.” Without another look, I marched away from the door, away from Daniel, and away from everything we had just shared.

Chapter Twenty-five

While Daniel tended Joseph’s wound, I wandered through Madame Marineaux’s sitting room, skirting the Marquis’s curtain-covered body. The memory from before tickled at my brain. It had to do with the cane. With something I was supposed to do . . .

Then my eyes landed on it. The low shelf from Madame Marineaux’s vision—and the Oriental fan on it. There was something glowing behind the flowered folds.

My breath hitched, and I dropped to the floor, sliding the fan aside to reveal the ivory fist. Now uncovered, the clenched fingers glowed as brightly as a magical well in my chest—and the artifact was mine. I could finally have it. Clearly Madame Marineaux wanted me to take it, for she had shown me where it was.

Ever so gently, I grasped it with both of my hands and held it up.