Beyond the Highland Myst(706)

“The chill. Dark power is cold. Light power is warm. A Seelie artifact exudes a gentle heat. Mere rubbings of a page from the Unseelie Dark Book suck the heat from a man’s body. ’Tis said handling the Dark Book itself turns a man into something no longer human, day by day, robbing him of all remnants of inner warmth and light.”

Jessi absorbed the information but refused to get sidetracked from the issue at hand. She needed to regain a measure of control that could only be achieved via a thorough understanding of her immediate situation, and as far as she could see, this Dark Book, whatever it was, had nothing to do with her problems.

“So, all we have to do is keep you away from this Lucan person until after the tithe is due, and the spell will be broken? We just need to hide for three weeks? That’s all?”

“Aye.”

“Then what—once the spell is broken and you’re free?” Could he get rid of this man who wanted her dead? Assure her return to a nice, normal life?

He inhaled deeply, his whisky gaze gleaming with sudden, chilling brutality. When he spoke, his voice was hard. “Then you’ll never have to worry about Lucan Trevayne again. No one will. This I swear.”

Jessi stepped back, in spite of herself. With those words, he’d transformed from sexy man to savage beast, lips drawn back in a silent snarl, nostrils flared, eyes narrowed and not quite sane. Madness born of a thousand-plus years of captivity flickered in those whisky depths, shadowy and cold as the inky stain on the perimeter of the Dark Glass.

She swallowed. “You sound pretty sure of your ability to defeat him, considering that he’s the one that stuck you in the mirror,” she felt obligated to point out.

A wicked, feral smile curved his lips. “Ah, Jessica, I’ll win this time. Of that you may be certain,” he said with soft menace.

His words chilled her to the bone. There was such implacable surety in his voice, such savagery in his eyes, that she no longer entertained the slightest doubt whatsoever about Cian MacKeltar’s ability to keep her alive.

She had a feeling the man had a few tricks up his proverbial sleeves. Even stuck inside a mirror. Tricks she probably couldn’t begin to imagine. Again, she had that sense of something more in him.

Oh yes, one way or another, this man would keep her safe.

And how are you going to keep yourself safe from him?

Good question.

Twenty more days. And he could be released from the mirror for at least a portion of each day.

God help her, she had no idea.

Cian MacKeltar attracted her in a manner that defied logic or reason. Then again, she thought wryly, that shouldn’t surprise her too much, because everything about her current situation defied logic or reason. She was chagrined by the sudden sinking suspicion that her intact hymen was probably due less to her impressive moral fiber than to the fact that she’d simply never experienced such intense, brainless chemistry before. If she had, she highly doubted she’d have lasted so long.

“Room service!” The cheery call was accompanied by a sharp rap-tap-tap at the door.

Brightening, Jessi turned away from the mirror. “Thank goodness,” she said. “I’m starving.”

Cian eased back, just behind the silver, where he could still see but couldn’t be seen.

As Jessica walked toward the door, his gaze fixed on her luscious little ass. He’d had that silken-skinned, sweet bottom in his hands only that morning, a cheek of it in each palm. He’d been about to make her his woman, fill her with his cock and pump deep inside her. He’d touched those heavy, round breasts, kissed those full lips, tasted the honeyed sweetness that was Jessica St. James. And soon he would taste the sweetness between her thighs, while he lapped and nibbled and sucked her to shuddering orgasm after orgasm.

A soft growl built in his throat. Christ, he loved to watch her move! Her stride was determined and purposeful, yet graceful and sexy. With a body like that, she couldn’t help but be sexy. Her short dark curls only made her seem more womanly, showcasing the delicate, creamy nape of her neck, the fine bones of her shoulder blades, and the sweet slender bow of her spine.

I do not want to talk about what just happened, she’d snapped.

Fine with me, woman, he’d thought with a silent laugh and a shrug. They didn’t need words.

Their bodies spoke the same language, used identical vocabulary.

Desire. Lust. Need.

He looked at her and something hot and possessive flexed inside his chest.

It wasn’t about wanting to bed her. It was about answering an ancient, undeniable call to mate.

It was about raw, animal passion. It was about—

Food. Bloody hell. His mouth began to water. He smelled meat.