Read Online Firestorm by Rachel Caine - Free Book Online Page B

might be able to reach one of the Oracles.”
    â€œOracles?” I’d never heard of Oracles, other than the ancient Greek kind. Or the software company. From the regretful look that flashed across his face, it wasn’t something any human had probably heard before. Or that the Djinn ever intended we would.
    â€œThey don’t exist here, on this plane. They’re—different. And Jo, they’re dangerous. Very dangerous, even to Djinn. I—can’t imagine how dangerous they’d be to a human, even if you can get one to allow you contact. Which isn’t likely.”
    â€œCan’t you—I don’t know, introduce me?”
    â€œIt doesn’t work that way,” he said. “I wish to heaven it did, because this would already be finished and I’d have done this for you. The way I’m connected is subordinate. The Djinn are part of the body, not apart from it. Oracles…” He was out of words, and he shrugged. “There’s no way to describe this, really. It’s not a human thing.”
    I let out a slow breath. “Okay. Leaving all that on the table, is there anything you can do about all of the—the chaos out there? Weather, fire, earthquakes?…”
    â€œI’ll do what I can.” David leaned forward and extended his hand again. This time, I took it. His skin was firm and hot and smooth, and my skin remembered it all too vividly. He was astonishingly tactile, always touching, and even as I thought it his fingers moved to my wrist, tracing my pulse. “I want to protect you. I want that with everything in me. The idea of sending you into danger without me…it terrifies me. You know that, right?”
    My heart began to pound. I wanted to forget all of this. The wreckage outside of the infirmary door, the dead Wardens, the destroyed agreement with the Djinn, the upcoming end of the world. The future of bones.
    I wanted him to keep on touching me, always.
    â€œJonathan always thought it was a kind of insanity, Djinn loving humans,” David murmured. “Maybe he was right. We have to face losing what we love so often, and the urge to keep you out of danger is…overpowering, sometimes. But now I’m the danger. And the truth is, you can’t really trust me, from this point on. Promise me you’ll be careful of me.”
    â€œDavid—”
    â€œI mean it, Jo. Promise me. I love you, I adore you, and you really can’t trust me right now.”
    His hand tightened on mine. Our fingers twined, and he leaned closer and fitted his lips to mine.
    Hot and sweet and damp, anguished and wonderful. I let go of his hand and wrapped my arms around his neck, buried my fingers in the warm living fire of his hair, and deepened the kiss. Willing him to be with me, to make this world be something it wasn’t.
    He made a sound in his throat, torture and despair and arousal all at once, and his hands fitted themselves around my waist and slid me off the bed and onto his lap. My chest pressed to his, every point of contact a bonfire. Our bodies, beyond our control, moved against each other, sliding, pressing, sweet wonderful friction that reminded us what we wanted, what we needed . For the first time in months, we were both healthy, both whole, both…
    â€¦both too aware of what this might cost us in the end.
    I don’t know which of us broke the kiss, but it ended, and we pressed our foreheads together and breathed each other’s air without speaking for a long time, our bodies tensed and trembling, on the edge of burning.
    â€œYou’re right,” I finally whispered. My lips tasted of him. “I can’t trust you. I damn sure can’t trust myself when I’m with you.”
    He smoothed my hair back with both hands. “Good girl.” He kissed me again, softly. “Smart girl. Remember that.”
    And then he lifted me, effortlessly, and set me on my feet. I got the impression he