Read Online Divine Madness by Melanie Jackson - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Melanie Jackson
Tags: Fiction
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there an internet ad placed by Miguel Stuart that said: Single smart male seeks same in female. Must live forever, be able to fight sorcerers, and jump from speeding trains without hesitation.
She knew a moment of melancholy. Which was stupid—how could any woman have a man stare at her with such fierce attention and be disappointed? It was just…What? That she wanted to be appreciated for what she was? And what was that—a monster far stronger than any normal man?
“Crazy,” Patsy sang, “I’m crazy for feeling so lonely.”
As had been pointed out lately by the voice in her head, Ninon was crazy too.
He’s a handsome devil , she thought.
He’s not a devil, cherie.
No. But he is probably a blood relative. He has to be. Look at him .
“You’re staring,” she said when he stopped a pace from her. It wasn’t an accusation, and it was said softly so that it didn’t disturb the soft hum of male voices around them.
“Around here, you don’t see too many women who dress like they love their bodies,” he answered. That surprised her a little. It was a clever thing to say—if he suspected she had a brain. Perhaps they were going to play a game with more than one level of meaning. She had always loved subtlety.
Remain focused, the voice warned. This is not a game.
But it is a game—survival.
“My body does many things for me. I like to give it pretty clothes as a reward.” Unspoken was the suggestion that her body could do many things for him too. She sat down on the edge of a bar stool and crossed her legs.
“Will you have dinner with me?” Miguel asked. He too sat. His voice was liquid, a rolling tide of seduction that could not be deterred.
Thus spake the spider to the fly .
Is this wise, cherie? He is very good…
It’s what I came for. She didn’t know if it wise, though. Wisdom was another luxury she could not afford.
Ninon answered, “Sure,” sounding very Californian and laid-back, though it remained to be seen who would be eating whom at this meal.
A brief image of her naked body pressed up against his flashed through her mind, pointing out that her thoughts at least had more than one meaning. The subconscious double entendre startled and annoyed her. She also wondered if the image was her own or if she was picking up something from his mind. Perhaps he was sending out subliminal lures. Could that be part of his power?
“You’ve made my night,” he answered. His body, expression, and voice all said that he found her fascinating and couldn’t wait to hear what she had to say. She knew it was his natural—or unnatural—charisma and nothing personal, a lure he used on everyone. But it was still hard to resist.
He held out his hand, but she did not take it. She was prepared, in control—and yet there had been that smallerotic image of the two of them in her brain. She couldn’t chance touching him. Not here. Not now. His clever fingers might drink in both her nervousness and attraction, and she didn’t want him certain about either feeling, though he had to suspect both.
“Would you like to bring your chaperone? I am sure that for a suitable tip, Corazon would be permitted to join us.” He was amused by her hesitation and showed it with his suggestion. He didn’t touch her though, seeming to realize that it would mean risking losing his fingers to her bite. Not that he was the type to fear pain, but he was probably clever and knew it was too soon in their relationship to let one’s prey know things could get bloody.
Still, it wasn’t a bad idea to fetch the cat. A witch should always stay close to her familiar…But, no. She could not risk putting Corazon in danger. He was just a cat, not a demonic imp.
“No thanks, he does not care for the local cuisine. He is on the Atkins diet and avoiding carbs. Beans and tortillas would never do.” Ninon made herself smile.
“I don’t suppose there are many carbs in feathers,” Miguel agreed.
“None, I shouldn’t think.
She knew a moment of melancholy. Which was stupid—how could any woman have a man stare at her with such fierce attention and be disappointed? It was just…What? That she wanted to be appreciated for what she was? And what was that—a monster far stronger than any normal man?
“Crazy,” Patsy sang, “I’m crazy for feeling so lonely.”
As had been pointed out lately by the voice in her head, Ninon was crazy too.
He’s a handsome devil , she thought.
He’s not a devil, cherie.
No. But he is probably a blood relative. He has to be. Look at him .
“You’re staring,” she said when he stopped a pace from her. It wasn’t an accusation, and it was said softly so that it didn’t disturb the soft hum of male voices around them.
“Around here, you don’t see too many women who dress like they love their bodies,” he answered. That surprised her a little. It was a clever thing to say—if he suspected she had a brain. Perhaps they were going to play a game with more than one level of meaning. She had always loved subtlety.
Remain focused, the voice warned. This is not a game.
But it is a game—survival.
“My body does many things for me. I like to give it pretty clothes as a reward.” Unspoken was the suggestion that her body could do many things for him too. She sat down on the edge of a bar stool and crossed her legs.
“Will you have dinner with me?” Miguel asked. He too sat. His voice was liquid, a rolling tide of seduction that could not be deterred.
Thus spake the spider to the fly .
Is this wise, cherie? He is very good…
It’s what I came for. She didn’t know if it wise, though. Wisdom was another luxury she could not afford.
Ninon answered, “Sure,” sounding very Californian and laid-back, though it remained to be seen who would be eating whom at this meal.
A brief image of her naked body pressed up against his flashed through her mind, pointing out that her thoughts at least had more than one meaning. The subconscious double entendre startled and annoyed her. She also wondered if the image was her own or if she was picking up something from his mind. Perhaps he was sending out subliminal lures. Could that be part of his power?
“You’ve made my night,” he answered. His body, expression, and voice all said that he found her fascinating and couldn’t wait to hear what she had to say. She knew it was his natural—or unnatural—charisma and nothing personal, a lure he used on everyone. But it was still hard to resist.
He held out his hand, but she did not take it. She was prepared, in control—and yet there had been that smallerotic image of the two of them in her brain. She couldn’t chance touching him. Not here. Not now. His clever fingers might drink in both her nervousness and attraction, and she didn’t want him certain about either feeling, though he had to suspect both.
“Would you like to bring your chaperone? I am sure that for a suitable tip, Corazon would be permitted to join us.” He was amused by her hesitation and showed it with his suggestion. He didn’t touch her though, seeming to realize that it would mean risking losing his fingers to her bite. Not that he was the type to fear pain, but he was probably clever and knew it was too soon in their relationship to let one’s prey know things could get bloody.
Still, it wasn’t a bad idea to fetch the cat. A witch should always stay close to her familiar…But, no. She could not risk putting Corazon in danger. He was just a cat, not a demonic imp.
“No thanks, he does not care for the local cuisine. He is on the Atkins diet and avoiding carbs. Beans and tortillas would never do.” Ninon made herself smile.
“I don’t suppose there are many carbs in feathers,” Miguel agreed.
“None, I shouldn’t think.
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