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No.
He pulled back to study her face awash in the glow of her magic, from her kiss-swollen lips and pink cheeks to the dazed look in her eyes. Fighting for control, he waited for his heart to slow, his breathing to even out, and his primal need to taste her everywhere until he could bury himself inside her to become less of a roaring, all-consuming demand and more of an agonizing ache.
“Better,” she whispered. “Much better.” She sounded drunk on his kisses.
“I’ll go.” He almost managed the calm, level tone he’d been aiming for.
“The night terrors will come back. They always do unless I take something, and my sleeping potion is at the penthouse.”
He couldn’t put her through another nightmare, not with her last screams still ringing in his ears. “What would help tonight?”
“Snuggle with me. When we touch, my magic seems happier. Maybe you can keep the dreams away.”
Holy brimstone, she was killing him. “Just tonight. Tomorrow we get whatever charm you need.” Before he forgot the good reasons he had for putting her above his own selfish desires. She could still find someone else to love, someone worthy of her.
“Fine.” She pressed close to his chest and sighed, sinking into him. “But you might want to ditch the dress shirt and trousers. You heat the room like a furnace.”
More like a volcano, but he wouldn’t be sharingthatinformation. “We’re not sleeping here.” He rolled to his feet and lifted her into his arms, intending to carry her into his room with its bigger bed. Her magic flared brighter. Concern flashed through him, and he stilled. “Are you hurt? What needs healing? Or does your power work on emotional trauma from the nightmares?”
Her expression turned pensive, the far-off look he’d learned from just a few hours together that meant she was thinking through something. “Perhaps, but my powers haven’t worked like that in the past. I think it’s a reaction to you holding me. I’ve had more magical flares around you tonight than I’ve had in years outside of recovery from the most brutal torture sessions or saving someone near death.”
Her answer stirred mixed emotions in his gut. While his pride reveled in the fact that she reacted to his touch on the base level of her powers which came as naturally as breathing or blood pulsing through her veins, he fought with the fact that he was losing his battle to keep her away. Especially when he wanted to slaughter anyone who had tortured her. He didn’t know what to say so he didn’t say anything.
Joelle didn’t seem to care. She tapped her fingers against his chest as if contemplating possibilities. “Do your powers trigger those of others? That could explain it.”
“No. My magic isn’t helpful like that.”
“Are you going to tell me what it can do?”
No. “You okay sleeping in my bed?” Gods, he had not just said that out loud.
“Instead of the mess I made of mine? Of course. Why would I complain?” If she had taken his comment to mean a continuation of their kiss, then she sounded casually cheerful about the prospect despite the fact she’d seemed to have no clue about how to initiate things. Had she not kissed someone before? Alys’s comments about her innocence or the horrible possible alternatives had him clutching Joelle tighter.
She patted his shoulder. “You’re avoiding my question about your magic.”
“Yes, I am.” And a hell of a lot of other topics he didn’t want to discuss.
“Then can I see your wings?”
“I’m not ripping my shirt to satisfy your curiosity.” The shirt he could care less about. He might destroy buildings, cities, realms if she asked him to, but her possible reaction to his wings? No, that scared him. Joelle might run away no matter how much danger she might be in or how much she mightsayshe liked them. Plus, his control had already slipped tonight. Gods forbid he flash his horns while showing off to the one person his whole body—including the erection she had to have noticed—seemed to embrace as his mate whether he accepted the fact or not.
Settling her onto his bed, he told his brain to stop the parade of erotic images he imagined of her in every possible position with her hair spilling across his sheets.
She blinked up at him without a trace of her earlier terror. If he hadn’t heard her scream and watched her suffer, he would wonder if he’d been conned.
“One more kiss?” she asked.
He should say no. A good man would walk away. But he could still taste her sunshine sweetness, and he’d never been the hero of the story. He’d been cast as a villain at birth, and this time, he’d gladly accept that role. “Tell me when to stop. Promise?”
“Promise,” she whispered on a sigh that made him want to mark her pretty skin pink to show everyone who she belonged to.
Except he couldn’t. Not unless he wanted to be trapped in karma’s corner by a trick of destiny. It’d be his luck to screw up a relationship fated by the gods. Still, it didn’t mean he couldn’t enjoy tonight and deal with the future tomorrow.
Gods, she was ethereal with those symbols gently flickering beneath her skin in a soft dance of light. Her long lashes framed guileless eyes over a lush mouth not made for lies. Her saintly beauty had him wanting to worship her, but her sinful curves made him want to sink inside her. Tracing his fingers from her throat to her covered breasts, he breathed in her addictive scent. He took in each sensation from the sound of her sharp inhale when she liked a touch to the feel of her nipples tightening beneath his palms.
“That feels so good,” she whispered.
“This is nothing compared to what comes next.” He’d make sure of it.
