Some people say they're portals…
She scooped at the fog with her hand. Condensation beaded on her palm. It was thick, dense stuff. She blew at the white air in front of her. It didn't puff away.
"H-hello?" she called, feeling frantic.
A dark swirl of movement flickered in the whiteness. There. No, she thought, turning, there. Inexplicably, the temperature dropped again and her teeth began to chatter. The hail stopped steaming on the ground.
She sat back on her knees, drenched to the bone, shivering and waiting nervously, half-expecting something awful to leap out at her.
Just when her frayed nerves were about to snap, Dageus glided out of the fog, or rather, one moment he wasn't there and then he materialized in front of her.
"Oh, thank God," Chloe breathed, relief flooding her. "Wh-what—" just happened was what she was trying to say, but the words died in her throat as he moved nearer.
He was Dageus, but somehow… not Dageus. As he moved, the fog swirled away from him like something out of a creepy sci-fi movie. Against the whiteness, he was a great, hulking dark shape. The expression on his chiseled features was as cold as the ice upon which she knelt.
She shook her head, once, twice, trying to scatter the idiotic illusion. Blinked several times.
He's almost inhumanly beautiful, she thought, staring. The storm had ripped his hair free from his thong and it fell to his waist in a wet, wind-tossed tangle. He looked wild and untamed. Animal. Predatory.
He even moved like an animal, fluid strength and surety.
And all the devil ever wants in exchange, a small voice said warningly, is a soul.
Oh, puh-lease, Chloe rebuked herself sternly. He's a man, nothing more. A big, beautiful, sometimes scary man, but that's all.
Graceful as a stalking tiger, the big, beautiful, scary man dropped into a crouch on the ground before her, his dark eyes glinting in the shadowy night. They knelt mere inches apart. When he spoke, his words were painstakingly articulated, as if speaking was an immense effort. His words were carefully spaced, tight, coming in rushes, with pauses between.
"I will give you. Every. Artifact I own. If you kiss. Me and ask no. Questions."
"Huh?" Chloe gaped.
"No questions," he hissed. He shook his head violently, as if trying to scatter something from it.
Chloe's mouth snapped shut.
It was too dark to see his eyes clearly, the sharp planes of his face shadowed. In the misty gloom, his exotic coppery eyes looked black as midnight.
She peered at him. He was perfectly still, motionless as a tiger before the killing lunge. She reached for his hands and found them, in tight fists. Most reserved when he feels most strongly, she reminded herself. She closed her hands over his.
His body was racked with sudden shudders. He closed his eyes briefly and when he opened them again, she could have sworn she saw shadowy… things moving behind them, and she had that strange feeling she'd had once before in his penthouse, as if there was another presence with them, ancient and cold.
Then his eyes cleared, revealing such utter desolation that her chest tightened and she almost couldn't draw a breath.
He hurt. And she wanted to take it away. Nothing else really mattered. She didn't even want his stupid artifacts in exchange; she only wanted to wipe that horrid, awful look from his eyes however she could.
She wet her lips and that was all the encouragement he seemed to need.
He crushed her in his arms, swept her up and, in a few powerful strides, backed her hard against one of the standing stones.
Ah, so the stones are still here, she thought dimly. Or I'm still here. Or something.
Then his mouth was hot and hungry on hers and she couldn't have cared less where she was or wasn't. She might have been leaning up against a great big nasty, winter-starved bear for all she cared, because Dageus was kissing her as if his life depended upon their tangle of tongues and the heat between them.
He sealed his mouth tightly over hers, his velvety tongue seeking, claiming. He thrust his hands into her wet curls, wrapping handfuls of it around his fists, holding her head cradled in his big, powerful hands, his hot tongue plunging deep into her mouth.
He kissed like no man she'd ever known. There was something about him, a rawness, an earthy sensuality that bordered on barbaric, something she'd never be able to explain to someone else. A woman had to be kissed by Dageus MacKeltar to fully understand how devastating it was. How it could bring a woman to her knees.
For a moment she couldn't even move. Could only take his kiss, not manage the strength to return it. She felt like she was being consumed, and knew that sex with him would be a little bit dirty and a whole lot raw. No inhibitions. She'd been tied to his bed with silken scarves; she knew what kind of man he was. Dizzy, light-headed, she dung to him, arching against him, reveling in the sensation of his big hands gliding over her body, one burrowing impatiently beneath her bra to close roughly over her breasts, teasing her nipples, the other cupping her bottom and lifting her against him. Feverishly, she wrapped her legs around his powerful hips.