With trembling fingers, she pinched the hem of his short sleeve and lifted until the black material cleared the slope of his shoulder.
A couple of nights ago, the scar had appeared several weeks old. Tonight it seemed even older, having a shiny, flattened look that would be smooth to the touch. She traced the curved mark with a fingertip.
“I dreamed of you,” she murmured, remembering how she’d kissed the wound. How she’d climbed on top of his lap, been penetrated and impaled by his beautiful cock as he’d taken her mouth in a kiss that had left her empty and filled at the same time. “And you’d received this in battle.”
Her lashes lifted and she met his unblinking stare. The ice had melted and eyes of molten violet bore down into hers. As if he too recalled the fierce and fast fucking.
“We dreamed,” he corrected gently. “I shared that vision, sweetheart.”
Sweetheart… She inhaled sharply and her eyes widened. “Oh. Shit.”
He arched an eyebrow even as a hard, slightly cruel smile tipped the corners of his mouth. “Oh shit is right,” he agreed. “Although deep shit is more accurate. Because that’s what we’re in.”
Nicolai raised a hand and the fist unclenched, fingers stretching one by one. She stared at it, mesmerized. The size of his hand from fingertip to the base of his palm would easily span the side of her face. It hovered over her cheek, hesitant or resistant, before spearing through her hair, clutching the tangled strands but careful not to tug on her scalp.
“You’re in danger,” he said and, with his other hand, cupped the back of her neck. “I followed Evander here, Tamar. He’s after you and he won’t stop until he kills you.”
“Why?” she asked.
Jesus, why was this happening to her?
She’d survived a plane crash only to face something so much more terrifying. Unable to not touch him any longer, she placed her palms on his slim hips, her fingers pressing into the unyielding skin of his back. The simple contact helped center her and keep her grounded in the middle of the storm that had landed in her life, wreaking havoc.
But it didn’t prevent fear from cramping her stomach or seizing her heart.
“Why me? I don’t know him, had never seen him before. I didn’t even know about hippogryphs or rogues or any of this before last night. Why…” She leaned forward, rested her forehead against the hard curve of his shoulder, giving in to the urge to lean on someone else’s strength if even for a quick moment. “All I wanted was a normal life. To teach. To have a husband, kids, a healthy 401K and retirement plan. Maybe finally learn how to tend those damn rose bushes.” The cantankerous flowers had been her mother’s pride and joy. Before the accident, she’d paid a gardener to care for the stubborn plants, but now she wanted to take over, to share that last connection to the one person who’d loved her unconditionally and had never let her down.
Nicolai’s grip on her neck tightened. “He won’t get to you, I promise. But you’re not safe here, Tamar. He knows where you live and nothing will deter him from coming after you again. You have to leave. I’ll take you to a safe place away from here where he can’t find you.”
Her head snapped up.
“What?” she asked, even though she’d heard every word he’d said. Every word. “What do you mean leave? For how long?”
His hands fell away from her nape and hair. He shifted back and his eyes were once again cold, harsh. Pitiless.
“For however long it takes. I won’t risk your safety.”
Tamar blinked up at him. The reality of her situation was rapidly sinking its bitter hooks into her mind and the harsh truth inspired a different—and just as strong—panic to scramble through her.
“You said you’ve hunted him for the last four months.” She swallowed, wetting her suddenly parched throat. She slid the tip of her tongue across her dry lips and still her voice croaked like a frog. “I’m supposed to drop everything, give up my life while you chase him? What if it takes you that long to catch him again? I have school. My life.”
Nicolai’s mouth lost its sensual curve as it firmed into a straight, grim line. She got the feeling he didn’t like being reminded of his failure to capture the rogue. But damn it! He asked—no, demanded—her to sacrifice the existence she’d suffered and fought for.
“I need to go to the bathroom,” she announced, pushing past him, the panic clawing its way up her stomach and chest to squeeze her throat. The abrupt turn on her heel sent a shard of pain lancing through her hip and screaming down her thigh. “Shit,” she muttered as she stumbled, braced herself with a hand pressed to the wall and limped across the bedroom.