Touch The Dark

His arms tightened, pressing me against every inch of him, kissing me almost desperately, like a starving man at a feast. That strong hand slipped farther down my back until it found the edge of my short leather skirt and pushed it up. He suddenly lifted me completely off the floor and settled me against his waist, so that I had to twine my legs around him or fall, and the sensory overload was enough that it took me a minute to realize that he was dancing us back towards the storeroom. Apparently he preferred his kills to be private.

He was still kissing me when the first burst of energy radiated off him, sending a shudder down to my fingertips. Either something had broken his concentration or he wasn't bothering to shield anymore. And why should he? I was probably the only sensitive there, and I already knew what he was. He may have looked the same to everyone else, but to me, it was like his skin had been dipped in molten gold, causing him to shine like a miniature sun in the dark room. The amount of energy pouring off him raised little hairs all along my arms and at the back of my neck as it swirled and crackled around us. The very air seemed to gain weight, feeling like it does right before a storm breaks—everything was suddenly clearer, brighter, and more sharp edged. All that force soon found a focus. It hit me like high tide at the ocean, drenching me in wave after wave of his power, making it hard to remember why I was fighting, or much of anything else.

He broke off the kiss and I made a small, involuntary sound of protest before he slid his mouth down to my neck again. But this time I didn't mind; this time, it seemed a curiously tender gesture, although a small part of my brain noted that his hair fell across my ruined shirt, hiding it from the brighter lights near the bar. Lucille, who was filling an order a couple of yards away, gave me a surprised thumbs-up as we slipped behind the counter. I didn't try to call for help. I rationalized it by asking what Lucille could do against even a baby vamp, much less a master. The truth, though, was that I simply didn't care. But Tomas must have thought I was about to be foolish, or maybe he didn't want to take chances. He kissed me again, and whatever his motives, there was no doubt that he knew what he was doing. The silken feel of his lips on mine muddled my thoughts even more and, when we finally broke apart, I was too stu

Why had I never noticed the way his eyes tilted so enticingly upward? The lashes were a black silk fringe around the tiny flames the bar's lighting caused to dance in his pupils. Something in me reacted to the heat I saw in that stare, because my hands acquired a will of their own and began tracing the flat planes of his stomach through the insubstantial barrier of his shirt. All that seemed to matter was the feel of those hard muscles under that silky skin; all I wanted was to work my way up to his neck and bury my hands in that gleaming fall of midnight hair, to see whether it was as soft, thick and heavy as it looked. But then I was distracted by the sight of a dusky nipple bared by one of the many gaps in his shirt, the sort of thing that had driven me to distraction more times than I could count. I discovered that it tasted as good as it looked, as good as I'd always known it would, and it tightened nicely under the efforts of my lips and teeth as if it had been longing for my touch. All things considered, I barely noticed when Tomas carried me back into the storeroom and shut the door with his foot.

He drew a deep, shuddering breath and slowly pulled away from me. After a moment he spoke in a hoarse voice completely unlike his usual tones. "Give me the gun, Cassie. Someone could get hurt if it accidentally goes off." The sound of his voice, harsh and curiously flat, cleared my head a little. Seeing my first attacker helped, too. He was lying in three pieces, having been eaten completely in half by the ward. Through the wreck of his body, I could see blackened splinters where part of a lopsided pentagram had been burnt into the wooden floor. I stared at the sight, feeling slightly dizzy and very odd. All of a sudden, I got the joke: someone could get hurt. Now, that was fu

I clutched Tomas to keep from falling, my gun dangling uselessly against his back. He took it from my limp hand and tucked it away somewhere. I didn't see where he put it; it simply disappeared. He was looking at me with concern, and suddenly that was fu

"Cassie, I can carry you if you want, but we must go." He glanced at the clock on the wall. It said 8:37.

"Look, we have time to make our appointment." I was still giggling, and the voice didn't sound like mine. I vaguely realized that I was about to become hysterical, then Tomas moved. The next thing I knew, I was back in his arms and we were outside, ru

"Sleep," Tomas commanded as the world raced past. I realized that I was terribly tired and sleep seemed a very good idea. I felt warm and comfortable, although my head was spi

Chapter 3

I woke tired, aching and seriously freaked out. My mood wasn't improved by the fact that Tomas was looming over me so that his blank, upside-down face was the first thing I saw. "Get away from me!" I croaked as I struggled into a sitting position. I had to wait a few minutes for the room to stop moving, and when it did, I was less than thrilled with what I saw. Great. I'd been dumped in Hell's waiting room. The small chamber was carved out of red sandstone and lit by only a couple of scary-looking wall sconces. They were made out of what appeared to be interlocking knives and held actual, evil-smelling torches. That told me right away that I was somewhere with a lot of powerful wards, which would have interfered with electricity. Not good.

The place would have been perfect as a torture chamber, except that instead of iron maidens and thumbscrews, it was furnished only with the very uncomfortable black leather sofa where I was lying and a small side table with a few magazines. One was a copy of the Oracle, the equivalent of Newsweek for the magical world, but like most waiting-room reading matter, it was several months out of date. I'd dropped by a certain coffeehouse in Atlanta on a weekly basis to read it, in case anything happened in my other world that might affect my new life. I doubted that the cover story for this edition, on the effect of cheap Asian imports on the magical medicines market, fell into that category, however, and the other was just a scandal sheet, PYTHIA'S HEIR MISSING! the three-inch title on this week's Crystal Gazing screamed, TIME OUT OF WHACK! I rolled my eyes but stopped because it hurt. Guess the MARTIANS KIDNAP WITCHES story they'd been leading with had sort of run dry.

"Mia stella, the Senate assigned Tomas as your bodyguard; he ca

"I'm not." After what I'd been through, I thought I was being reason personified. I felt seriously nauseous, so tired that I swayed when I forced myself to stand, and my eyes burned like I'd already had the good, hard cry I wanted. But I wasn't budging. "I don't want him anywhere near me."