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Her gaze grew serious, almost sad. “Please, Cam. I know it’s mad. I know it’s probably the worst thing I can do, but”—her lashes swept down, hiding the ache in her gaze—“this way at least, I’m making the mistake eyes wide open.”
He tilted her chin up so that she had to face him. “So you admit it’s a mistake?”
She moved into him, pressing her body the length of his, letting him feel the soft crush of her breasts, her lean muscled legs, the luscious V of her crotch. “The most perfect mistake I could make.”
All it took was one rub of her body and Cam’s restraint erupted into white-hot need.
Gods be praised. If he’d le
ft her standing there after she’d done everything but strip and stake herself out for him, she’d have felt a complete fool.
Morgan knew she’d snapped. Cam blamed it on the blow to her head. But it was more complicated. She couldn’t say why she threw caution and her better judgment to the wind to follow the more elemental pull of her body. She just knew now she couldn’t move forward unless the drive to find out if he’d been as exquisite as she remembered was put to the test.
And so far exquisite didn’t even come close.
He devoured her with his mouth, his hands playing her body, awakening parts of her she thought dead forever. He smelled of sweat and strength, and she clung to him, her hands curving under his shirt, finding the broad, corded muscles of his back while she drowned in the wild power of his lovemaking.
Cam shoved her back against the wall, the swollen ridge of his erection jammed oh so deliciously between her legs. His hand dropped to the waist of her breeches. With an ex pert flick of his fingers, he’d opened the fall, dipped lower, tracing the folds of her woman’s place, teasing the nub that lay hidden there.
She gasped, rocking forward against him. Her body nearing the edge of no return as he answered her thrust with his own, his fingers pushing deep inside her. She clutched his back at the savage need that tore through her with each stroke, the building ecstasy narrowing her focus to this room, this man, this moment.
The laughter when it came never registered. It was only the sneering contempt of the voice that followed that tore her out of her bliss. “Now, isn’t this romantic?”
Then all hell broke loose.
Chapter 10
Cam reacted before she did.
In one sweep of motion, his hand slid to her waist, unsheathing her dagger, and, pivoting, he let it fly toward the man standing ten feet away at the open window, all while shoving Morgan farther behind him. As if that would help.
Any other time and with any other target, the dagger would have ended buried hilt-deep and dead-center. Instead, the blade sank quivering only an inch into Doran’s metal breastplate.
“Am I interrupting?” He plucked her blade from his armor. Dropped it to the floor, kicking it into a corner. “You had me fooled, Bligh. I always imagined you the frigid man-hater type.”
Humiliation and fury shriveled Morgan’s insides, her earlier runaway need frozen needle-sharp in her veins.
Beneath her hands, Cam went completely still, his whole body coiling tight as a wire just before he sprang.
Caught by surprise, Doran allowed Cam to close the distance between them. The Amhas-draoi outstripped him in sheer bulk, but Cam’s speed and ability made up for it. He swept under Doran’s guard, landing a chop across his neck that carried enough force to crush his windpipe.
Doran fell to his knees, his hands grabbing at his throat as Cam dove for the corner and the discarded knife.
Weapon in hand, Cam adjusted his grip. Prepared to drill the blade into Doran’s hunched, exposed back.
Then dropped to the floor as if his legs had been pulled out from under him.
At the same moment, dark mage energy ripped through Morgan, cramping muscles, numbing senses.
Cam groaned, rolling into a ball, his face blanched white, his jaw clenched in a grimace of agony.
Morgan shouted, casting her personal wards as wide as she could, praying her shields would be enough to protect them both from Doran’s curse. Pain knifed through her, but she held steady, Doran’s spell dulling to a roar in her ears, a twist of her insides.
Doran unfolded from the floor. Stood to tower over her. “Nice try, Bligh, but did you really think you had a chance in hell? Join me and I might let you live.”
“Never happen, you son of a bitch,” she spat. “I’m no traitor.”
Her eyes darted around the room, searching for anything she could use as a weapon. Cam’s knife was across the room. Her knife still lay clutched in his twitching fist. Both impossible to reach. Cam carried pistols. Useless to her unloaded and packed in his saddlebags. So now what?
