My Forbidden Desire (9 page)

“Are you saying this doesn’t bother you?” He used his thumb and index finger to pop the bottom button of her shirt. His mouth curled in a tiny smile.

“Does it bother you?”

He shook his head. “Maybe. But it’s been a while since the last time I did it.”

“Me, too, actually,” she said. She waited. After a bit, his palm flattened over her, sliding under her shirt. She took another step forward.

He kept his hand on her belly. His little finger dove underneath the waist of her jeans. “Beautiful witch like you? That’s hard to believe.”

“Believe it.”

“Maybe this doesn’t bother me so much after all.” He did a little more exploring, and Alexandrine enjoyed her reaction. And his. Then, just when she was about to turn into a puddle at his feet and let him do whatever the hell he wanted, her chest turned to solid ice. Chilling certainty froze her to the marrow.

“What?” Xia asked.

She grabbed his shoulder. “Something’s here.”

He was all business in less than a blink. “How many and which direction?”

She concentrated and had to work at not letting fear get in the way. “Three, I think. Kitchen and there.” The minute she pointed to the front door, it clicked twice. Once for the dead bolt and again for the regular lock. “Shit,” she whispered.

“No worries, baby.” He took her knife. He passed a finger over the edges, and swear to God, she saw sparks shimmering between his fingertip and the metal surface. Cold air drifted in from the direction of the kitchen. The back of her head got cold, too. They’d gotten through the back again without making a sound. Her front door swung open. “It won’t be as easy as they think,” he said, smiling at her from over the irregular tip of her knife.

She took her eyes off the door and stifled a scream. Something was coming in from the kitchen, and it wasn’t human. “Another one just came in the back.”

Then the air started burning, and the creature coming out of the kitchen went down with a thud that shook the floor even though nothing had touched him. Another one stood framed in the front door. This one was human in form, but his eyes flamed brilliant green. The lights went out again. No sound, no smell, no streetlamps or glowing gadgets, but with the fire arcing in the air, Alexandrine could see just fine. The third one engaged Xia. His attacker went in close, whirling, and she saw Xia’s fist collide soundlessly with the monster’s torso. Xia slid behind him and broke his neck.

She didn’t have time to react to that, because the one coming in the front leapt for her. Time slowed. She saw and analyzed trajectory, size, and relative strength. The thing was going to land on her, and if she didn’t do something, she’d be dead shortly afterward. That knowledge was certain in her head. She didn’t have any choice but to use Xia’s knife. She knew from brutal experience how to defend herself. All her old instincts kicked in.

The thing coming for her looked human, but she knew it wasn’t and that it intended to kill her. Smell and sound continued to be dampened, but that didn’t stop her arm from feeling Xia’s blade slide through skin and muscle and then grate against bone. Blood spattered across her face like tiny embers. At the same time, she dropped to one knee and thrust up with the knife. No sound. No scent of blood. And no emotion, either. But her body vibrated with the force of their collision. As hard as she’d stabbed, the thing wasn’t dead. It kept going for her. Her head snapped back.

With a clap that sent her stumbling, everything returned to normal. A shriek of agony echoed in her ears, and the smell of blood and exposed organs choked her. Breathing. That was her, sucking air. Her front door slammed shut, the locks engaging on their own. She blinked and saw Xia standing over the fiend who’d attacked her with his hand around the monster’s forehead, pulling back. The point of his knife—well, her knife—protruded from the front of its throat.

He yanked on the knife handle and released the fiend with a sideways twist. The body fell hard. The other two magehelds were down and not moving. Alexandrine stared at the creature lying at her feet. She wiped a hand across her face and smeared blood into her eyes. Her gorge rose.

“You hurt?” he asked. He reached for her, probing along the top line of her cheek.

“No,” she said, moving to avoid the contact with him. She could hardly talk; she was so hyped up. She looked at Xia, who was looking at her, and then she crouched beside the fiend she’d stabbed and closed its staring, glassy eyes.

“For a witch,” he said in a low voice, “that was decent of you.”

“Xia,” she replied without looking at him, “I’m not your enemy.” Alexandrine turned her head in his direction, and she could see every atom of his doubt. “I’m really not.”

“Sure you are,” he said. But he didn’t sound convinced. “You’re a witch.”

When she got up, she left his knife on the floor. Blood dripped from her hand onto the fiend, and she just wanted to be sick—someplace where Xia wouldn’t see her. “I’m taking a shower. Is that okay?”

“You tell me.”

“I don’t feel anything right now.”

He shrugged. “It’s probably too late for Rasmus to send anymore. Go ahead. I’ll clean up in here.”

“Thank you.” She was a few steps away when he spoke in a voice that rippled down her spine like warm silk.

“Witch?”

She didn’t turn around. “Yeah?”

“You all right?”

Hell, no, she wasn’t all right. She wasn’t ever going to be all right. She turned to face him. “No, Xia. I’m not. Right now my life sucks. I’m tired. I’m crabby, and I don’t want any of this to be happening.”

Mr. Sensitivity shrugged. “Leave the door open, Alexandrine.”

Chapter 7

A
lexandrine figured there wasn’t any point to locking her bedroom door. Anyone who wanted in would get in, including Xia. Especially Xia. The guy was scary. And not exactly human. At all. And now he was out there just on the other side of the door. Knocking softly.

She considered her door and the knock. After her shower, taken with the door open, she’d gone to her room and totally lost it. Big, huge crying jag with her face scrunched into her pillow so Xia wouldn’t hear her and see her shaking like a natural-born coward.

She wasn’t inclined to acknowledge Xia’s knock. In fact, her first instinct was to pretend she was asleep. Her bedroom light was on, but hey, she could have fallen asleep with the lights on, right? It was going on five-thirty in the morning. Nearly dawn. She was entitled to fall asleep. Childish but tempting nevertheless. He probably knew she wasn’t asleep. She called out, “What do you want?”

Silence. Then, “We need to talk. Okay?”

She slid off her bed and opened the door. “Talk about what?”

He managed to look threatening just standing there. Like her, he’d showered and changed his clothes. His gray cotton sweats followed the shape of his hips and thighs, and his T-shirt had the same incidental clingy effect over his chest. His knife was clipped to the waist of his sweats, the carved hilt protruding from the sheath. He’d put on a pair of ratty canvas sneakers, too, the kind without any laces. It wasn’t like his clothes were form-fitting or anything. There just wasn’t any disguising his insanely fit body. Clothes flat-out draped better on a physique like his. Water glistened in his black-as-sin curls. Not wavy curls but tiny, perfect corkscrews of wicked black.

When he wasn’t snarling at her, he was stunningly beautiful, in an extremely manly fashion. Who was she kidding? He was gorgeous when he was snarling, too. Could he be any more appealing? She kept her hand on the door so he’d know she wanted this over with quickly; even with the perfect body so in need of feminine adoration. Now here was a distraction she could live with. Boy, she did like a man who could put her mind in the gutter. Of course, he wasn’t exactly a man, was he?

“About us. We need to talk about us.”

“There is no us.” And as gorgeous as he was, there wasn’t going to be any
us
to talk about, ever.

He quirked his eyebrows at her. “All right. Then we need to talk about the reason Harsh sent me here.”

“I don’t think I feel much like talking,” she said. “I’m tired, and no offense, I’d rather be alone right now.” She started to shut the door, but he caught it. Not many men could look down at her like she was practically short. Xia was what, six-five? Six-six? Taller than her, and that’s all that mattered. She pressed on the door, but he pushed back, and nothing happened except she realized he was a lot stronger than she was. He sighed and pushed hard enough on the door that she had two choices: let him win the contest or stand aside. She stood aside, but he stayed in the doorway.

“I told Harsh this wasn’t going to work.”

He was trying hard to be nice, or at least as polite as he could be. Considering what he’d been like before, she appreciated him leaving out the part about how much he hated her for being a witch. “Yeah,” she said with a shrug, “I know. Trust me, this isn’t fun for me, either.”

His eyes lost their hard glitter. “He thinks you don’t need to know anything. He thinks I can just… do my thing to keep Rasmus from offing you and taking the talisman, and in the meantime, Nikodemus will work out what to do, and Carson will sever a few more magehelds for us.”

“You could leave. I wouldn’t blame you if you did. I have some friends out of town I can stay with.”

“Baby, you don’t really think that would keep you safe, do you?”

“No?” What a horrendous thought that was, getting her friends killed on account of her.

“You haven’t got a chance against a mageheld. Not without me. No matter where you try to hide. After tonight, you should know the truth right here.” He touched his chest in the area of his heart.

After a bit, she said, “Yeah, I guess I do.”

“I promised your brother. I’m not leaving.”

She gave him a smile, but it wasn’t as bitchy as it could have been. “Sucks to be you, doesn’t it?”

He actually smiled back. “Not as much as it used to.” Xia leaned a shoulder on the doorjamb and brought out his knife. He examined it with a critical eye. A draft lifted the hair on her arms. With his attention on the knife, he said, “You’re right about me. I do want to kill Rasmus Kessler.”

“Right about now, I’m thinking me, too.”

He looked up from his knife, and she got a shot of Xia and his sexy mouth that rubberized her knees. She had a terminal case with him, didn’t she? “He’s going to come after you again; you better believe that.”

“Sucks to be me.”

Xia frowned and shifted his weight from foot to foot, then ended up leaning against the doorjamb again. “I’d like us to get square.”

“You think we can actually get along? I mean, come on.” She lifted a hand and let it fall back to her side. “What with me being a witch and all that?”

“You’re not the worst witch I ever met, okay?” He drew a finger along his knife, and she got more shivers up and down her arms. He smiled, and hell if she didn’t get a tingle of arousal as a result. Rats. She wanted to find out if his mouth was as soft as it looked. Probably not. He was probably a terrible kisser. He was too selfish to be a good kisser.

She studied him. To be fair, he didn’t look like he was lying. Not to mention he’d saved her life tonight. She owed him the benefit of the doubt. “If you’re willing, so am I.”

“All right, then.” Xia nodded. “Fuck what Harsh thinks you need to know, which is jack shit. Let’s get a few things straight between us. That work for you?”

“Okay.”

His eyes sparked that freaky blue again, like they were glowing inside. He put away his knife, and oddly enough, the rippling along her arms stopped. He lifted a hand above her head, pushed the door the rest of the way open, and walked in. The way he moved reminded her of a cat. All easy grace packed with the promise of death. He stopped halfway in and glanced around. He cocked his head to one side. “Why no pink? I was expecting pink when I was in here before. If you don’t mind me asking.”

She laughed because he was just so curious and surprised. “I like pink all right.” Her room was black and gold. Mostly black. With burnt orange and green thrown in for accent. She might live in a dump, but there were things you could do to relieve even the dreariness of a cheap and unsafe home. “But not as a major statement.”

He laughed, too, and sat on her bed. Hard enough to bounce a little. “Okay, here’s the deal,” he said, scooting himself back until he was leaning against one of the walls she’d painted black. Two others were gold. He linked his hands behind his head.

“Make yourself at home.” Was he working his way up to something besides talking? Sheesh. This was going to drive her crazy. She considered propositioning him and seeing if they couldn’t just bypass the yakking and get her past this state of constantly noticing him. He looked human, and that made it hard to remember he wasn’t.

“Thanks.” He tilted his head back, his gaze focused on the ceiling. “Right. Okay. I’ve been…”

Alexandrine shook her head and pulled out her desk chair and sat on it. No way was she making the first move. Not yet. Not until she had at least one solid reason to think he intended to start something seriously physical with her, as opposed to him setting out to make her crazy, which she could totally see him doing. His gaze met hers. Her stomach took a dive. Damn, there was chemistry between them.