“It’s just the wind,” he said and switched off the light.
He hobbled to the end of the bed, then stopped. She watched him steadily, and he could almost taste the desire beginning to stir the bright swirl of her emotions. He couldn’t lie down with her again and not touch her. And he had a horrible feeling that if he did touch her, he wouldn’t want to let her go.
He thrust a hand through his hair. “Maybe I should sleep in the other bed.”
“Why?”
The slight huskiness in her voice sent heat racing to his loins and practically shot his good intentions all to hell. “It’s safer, that’s why,” he muttered.
Safer for him, safer for her. Because she deserved more than he’d ever be able to give her.
The bedsprings squeaked as she rose. She stopped in front of him—not touching him but close enough for him to feel the heat of her body, see the warm sparkle of desire in her eyes. It took every ounce of his control to simply stand there and not reach for her.
“I’ve spent most of my life seeking safety, and I’m tired of it. I’m not asking for a commitment, just the remainder of the night.” She hesitated, and a hint of laughter ran through the emotive swirl surrounding her. “If you think your leg is up to it, of course.”
The leg was up to it; he just didn’t think his heart was. She wasn’t like the other women he’d slept with. They’d been little more than temporary shields against the loneliness. He’d been able to walk away without remorse, his heart intact and untroubled. Maddie was different.
He reached out, gently cupping her cheek. She leaned into his hand for a moment, then brushed a kiss across his palm. Heat shivered through his soul.
“I’m trying to be honorable here. It’s something of a first for me.”
“Then treat me as you treated the others. Just give me the night before you make me leave in the morning.”
“I can’t—”
“Hush.” She leaned forward and kissed his lips, her mouth warm and soft against his. “Don’t think,” she murmured, “just feel. If only for this one night.”
He groaned and pulled her into his arms. He’d never been a saint, and he certainly wasn’t made of stone. And he just had to hope he had the strength to watch her walk away in the morning, because he certainly couldn’t let her go right now.
Her mouth invited greater exploration. He tasted her deeply, urgently, and she matched his fire, making a rough, needy sound in the back of her throat as she wrapped her arms around his neck.
He scooped her up in his arms and walked the remaining few steps to the bed. A twinge of pain ran down his leg as he laid her down, but he ignored it and stripped off his shorts, lying down beside her.
“You’re naked.” She ran her hand down his chest to his stomach, then lower.
Trying to ignore the sensations flooding heat through his body, he skimmed his hand under her T-shirt and gently teased a nipple.
“You’re not,” he murmured and leaned forward, laving his tongue up her neck and around her ear.
A sigh that was close to a shudder escaped her lips. “Wait.” She slipped the shirt over her head and tossed it onto the floor. Her panties quickly followed.
He ran his hand down the warm, silky length of her, imprinting every curve in his mind, from the gentle swell of her breasts to the lean roundness of her thighs. Claiming her lips again, he caressed the warmth between her legs until she grew slick and he felt the tremors building in her body. Then he retreated, skimming his hand back up to her breast.
“The man is a tease,” she said, a hint of laughter coiling through the huskiness of her voice. “But two can play that game.”
Her tongue made a moist trail of fire down his chest. She traced the outline of his belly button for several seconds, then went on, until he felt the wet heat of her mouth encase him. He groaned and arched upward, fighting the fierce and sudden ache in his groin. Then her touch left him, trailing fire back up to his chest.
“Going to play fair now?” She raised up on her elbows and dropped dainty kisses on his lips and cheek.
He smiled and lightly nipped her lip. “Nope,” he said, rolling so that she was beneath him. He caught her hands, linking his fingers through hers before gently drawing her hands above her head.
He took her nipple in his mouth, rolling it over his tongue and teeth, sucking deeply. She twisted beneath him, her small sounds of pleasure gnawing away at his self-control. He could hear her heart pounding a rhythm that was as erratic as the pulsing in his groin.
“Oh God, Jon,” she whispered, kissing his hair, his ears, and his neck. “Touch me.”
He pressed his knee between hers, nudging them apart. With his free hand he touched her, delving into her moistness, caressing the most sensitive part of her. She arched up to meet him, her soft cries becoming more urgent, more intense.
“Come on, my love,” he whispered, and he claimed her mouth, kissing her fiercely. She shuddered against him, breath ragged as she clung to him.
“I need you,” she whispered and touched his hips, drawing him toward her.
He joined her in one sure stroke. She urged him on, meeting every thrust with a small cry of pleasure that cut through his soul. Her breathing quickened again, then another shudder rippled through her body and broke what remained of his control.
“Maddie!” he cried, as the power of his own release tore through him. His arms collapsed, and he rolled sideways, not wanting to crush her with his weight. He lay still for several minutes, his chest heaving as he battled for breath.
“How’s the leg?” she asked softly.
Eyes still closed, he reached down and clasped her hand. Cold metal met his touch, and he realized she was still wearing his ring. He smiled and gently squeezed her fingers. “The leg’s just fine.” But as he’d suspected, the heart was an entirely different matter.
She turned toward him. He shifted his arm, pulling her in close. Her sigh whispered across his chest and stirred an ache deep inside him.
He kissed the top of her hair and stared into the darkness, listening to her breathing grow quieter. He was a fool—a fool who now had a huge problem on his hands.
Could he really let her walk out of his life in the morning?
A PERSISTENT NOISE WOKE MADDIE SOMETIME LATER. Heart pounding in fright, she lay in the warm security of Jon’s arms and listened. After a minute she realized it was simply a loose piece of roofing banging in the wind.
How often had she lain in her own bed listening to that same awful noise? And how often had she hoped it was an intruder, simply because it would have provided a brief respite from the intense loneliness of her life? Far too often, she thought grimly. It was odd how the isolation she’d so desperately needed after Brian’s death had quickly turned into a prison from which she feared to break free.
In many ways, that fear still held her. But at least Jon had shown her it was possible to control her gifts and put them to good use. It was up to her now to find the courage to break free from her self-imposed exile.
She sighed softly and ran her hand across the warm plane of his muscular stomach. Meeting him had also shown her just how deeply she missed having someone to share the highs and lows of life with. And yet she’d been something less than honest in her admission earlier. She didn’t want just anyone to love her. She wanted him.
But that was likely a hopeless dream.
She bit her lip against the sudden sting of tears. Part of her wanted to fight his decision, to try to make him stay. His touch and his eyes told her he loved her, even if he would never admit it. But she might as well try to restrain the wind. As much as he might love her, he loved his work more. He didn’t want to give it up, and he didn’t want her to be a part of it.
If she stayed, or tried to make him stay, she would end up hating herself as much as he’d end up hating her. Better to walk away now.
He stirred slightly, his fingers running across hers and squeezing them gently. “You okay?”
&n
bsp; His voice was blurred with sleep, yet she could hear the concern in it. “Fine,” she whispered. “Just got to go to the bathroom.”
She moved away from his touch, her feet brushing against the clothes she’d stripped off earlier. She bent down to collect them, then swiftly padded to the bathroom.
Once she’d shut the door, she turned on the light and quickly donned her T-shirt and panties. The night was icy, yet the bathroom seemed abnormally hot. She glanced across to the window. It was locked, as Jon had said, yet a fine haze of rain seemed to be misting in through the small gap between the frame and the window, and it weirdly made the heat in the room more intense. Frowning, she grabbed a towel and moved closer to the window. It might not help dissipate the heat, but it would stop the mist from seeping in …
“I wouldn’t bother, my dear,” a harsh voice whispered behind her. “A towel isn’t going to provide much of an impediment to my departure.”
Heart leaping in fright, Maddie jerked around. Ebony smoke curled lazily from the shower and formed the shape of a woman. Eleanor.
Impossible! Maddie wanted to scream, only her voice seemed frozen to the back of her throat. She licked her lips and slowly backed away, fingers trembling as she reached for the door. Jon was half awake—if she flung it open hard enough, he’d surely come running …
Eleanor made a quick motion with her hand, and the ice encasing Maddie’s throat settled across her limbs. She couldn’t move; she couldn’t scream. She could only watch as Eleanor glided toward her with unnatural grace.
“Don’t we just smell like a bitch in heat.” Though Eleanor’s soft voice held a hint of amusement, malice twisted her face—a face that suddenly looked sharp and old. “I do hope you enjoyed yourself, my dear. It’s probably the last time that you ever will.”
She reached up and ran a needlelike fingernail down Maddie’s cheek. It might as well have been a knife. It cut deep and tears stung Maddie’s eyes, but she could do little more than flinch and blink them away. Yet deep in her soul, the fires flickered to life.
“He should never have killed Hank,” Eleanor went on, almost conversationally. “It took me a long time to find a man like him, someone trainable but with half a brain. Now I’ll have to start all over again.”
Maddie stared at her. The woman had to be mad—or very, very sure of her own abilities. Despite Jon’s presence in the next room, Eleanor was making no attempt to speak quietly. Surely he would hear and come running …
As if reading her thoughts, Eleanor laughed. It was a high, insane sound that lashed at Maddie’s ears and made every nerve ending quiver in fright.
“He can’t hear a thing. My little fog is swallowing any sound we make.”
Maddie blinked, suddenly realizing the fine mist of rain she’d noticed earlier had thickened to become a barrier near the door. Jon wouldn’t hear her, couldn’t save her. Fear spurted through her body. She closed her eyes, trying to calm the panic. She wasn’t entirely helpless, as Brian had found out.
And she didn’t have to move to unleash her fire.
Watching Eleanor carefully, she reached deep down into that dark place in her soul where the flames lurked.
Eleanor’s gaze narrowed, as if she sensed something was happening. “But enough talk. There is much I have yet to do, traps I must arrange.”
Eleanor reached out, grabbing Maddie by the arm. Clawlike fingers tore into her flesh as the mist near the door began to curl lazily toward them.
Terror slammed past the fear and sliced through Maddie’s heart. She couldn’t let Eleanor take her anywhere. Couldn’t let herself be used as bait to trap Jon. With a silent scream of denial, she stared at the hand holding her so tightly and let loose her fire.
Eleanor’s flesh burst into flame, and Maddie’s skin shriveled away from its touch. Eleanor screamed—a high-pitched sound of anger and pain. The mist responded to the noise, weaving and pulsing in frantic haste around the flames scorching Eleanor’s fingers and arm. When it curled away, the flames were gone.
“You will pay for this,” Eleanor hissed, holding up a blackened hand for Maddie to see. It looked like a twisted, broken paw.
Then the mist eddied again, and the ice holding Maddie immobile seemed to spread, splintering through her soul. Pain erupted through her body and she screamed. But the only sound she heard was the sharp note of Eleanor’s laughter as the darkness encased them both and swept them away.
“MADDIE?”
His question seemed to echo across the lonely silence. Jon sat upright in bed, heart pounding unevenly as he stared at the light filtering under the bathroom door.
“Maddie, are you okay?”
There was no answer to his question, and every instinct told him something was horribly wrong. He threw the blankets aside and ran across to the bathroom, flinging open the door.
The room empty. And hot. He frowned, took a quick glance behind the door, then walked to the window. It was latched, and the cobwebs he’d noticed earlier still trailed across the corners, indicating it had not been opened.
He swung around and moved back into the bedroom. Where the hell was she? For one brief, horrible instant he thought she’d left him, had gone from his life without saying good-bye. Then he saw her canvas overnight bag, still on the chair where she’d flung it. The sick tension in his gut increased.
Eleanor had her. He was certain of that much, if nothing else. Somehow, the witch had crept into the room and spirited Maddie away. Or the sylphs had.
But if the sylphs had appeared, he would have felt their presence. As an empath, he was not only sensitive to emotions, but to the vibration or frequency of life itself—and that meant being able to sense changes undetectable to the naked eye or the five senses.
But he should have felt Maddie’s fear, too.
Then he remembered Evan saying something about heat, and a misty figure. It wasn’t the sylphs who’d snatched her, but rather Eleanor using magic.
He swore and stalked across to the clothes he’d left lying on the floor. Something burned up his leg as he pulled on his jeans. With another curse, he dug his hand into his pocket. The ring he’d taken from Hank was burning hot. He dropped it quickly on the bed and stepped back.
Smoke curled up from the gleaming red eyes of the panther, gradually forming a wraithlike image of Eleanor. But it was an Eleanor who suddenly looked haggard and old—and very desperate.
“I have your woman, shapeshifter.”
Despite her appearance, Eleanor’s voice was still smooth and warm. He wondered how much magic she was using to keep it that way. Wondered how seriously Maddie had been hurt. “Maddie’s not my woman, witch. Do what you want with her.”
Eleanor’s laughter was high and inhuman. “Lie to yourself if you wish, but please refrain from doing so to me. And I prefer to be called a sorcerer, not witch. So, shall we talk terms?”
He clenched his fists and somehow resisted the temptation to shatter the wraith’s smug face. “I’ll talk no terms with the likes of you.”
Eleanor sighed. “This denial of yours is becoming tedious. I think I’ll leave.”
The mist wavered, losing shape. Fear for Maddie cut deeper into his gut. He had no doubt he could find her. His spirit was now linked so closely to hers, he only had to fly around until her soul cried out to him. But he wouldn’t find her quickly enough to prevent Eleanor from taking some form of revenge.
“No!” he said quickly, then cursed himself for a fool when he saw the flash of amusement in the wraith’s dark eyes. “What do you want?”
“I want the boy,” Eleanor spat. “And I want him before the night is over. Or you’ll not see your woman again, shapeshifter.”
He stared at Eleanor and saw only death. If he or Maddie escaped from this mess alive, it would be something of a miracle. “The boy has left with his parents. I have no idea where they’ve gone.”
“Then you had best hurry and find out, hadn’t you? Dawn is only two hours away.”
Two hours in whi
ch to find the proverbial needle in a haystack. “And when I find him?”
“Take my ring with you. My mark is still on the child, and the ring will tell me when you have found him. I will contact you then to make the exchange.”
He ran a hand through his hair. “I want Maddie alive or no deal.”
“Then hurry, shapeshifter. The snow is threatening, and she wears only a T-shirt.” The insane sound of her laughter echoed around the room long after her image had faded.
He stared at the ring for a long moment. If he made any attempt to find Maddie without first getting Evan, he had no doubt that Eleanor would kill her.
He grabbed his coat and Maddie’s bag and headed for the door. He had only one hope of finding Evan quickly. He just had to pray that Mack was in a helpful mood.
“WELL, WELL, WELL.” MACK LEANED HIS CHAIR AGAINST the wall and looked more like a smiling shark than ever. “This is an unexpected pleasure. I’d anticipated having to issue a warrant to get you in here.”
“Cut the crap, Mack. I need your help.” Unable to stay still, Jon began pacing the width of the small office Mack had obviously claimed as his own.
Mack’s chair hit the floor with a thump. “What’s happened?”
“Eleanor has taken Maddie hostage again. She’ll exchange her for Evan.” Jon swung away from the intensity of Mack’s gaze and stalked across to the window. Ten minutes had passed, ten minutes in which anything could have happened to Maddie. He gazed down at the empty street, watching the rain pelting across the pavement. Imagined it doing the same to her pale skin.
He closed his mind to the image and swung back around. “I need to know where the kid is, Mack.” His voice was almost savage, but he didn’t care. “He’s my only hope of getting her back alive.”
Mack eyed him neutrally. “You can’t exchange one hostage for another.”
“I don’t intend to.” He ran a hand across his eyes. They felt gritty and sore, as if he hadn’t slept in a week. But this was a nightmare only just beginning. He dug the ring out of his pocket and showed it to the agent. “This belongs to Eleanor. Through it, she will know when I find Evan. Only then will she tell me where the exchange will take place.”