Read Online Games Demons Play (Mystic Isle, Book 3) by Selena Blake - Free Book Online Page B

Why is there no Mrs.
Shade?”
    “Why is there no Mr. Izzy?”
    She huffed out a breath. “You evade the
question. Okay. How did you meet Pierre?”
    Shade wrapped his arm around her shoulders,
pulling her against his side. She felt small, feminine and
protected, which was a far cry from how she’d felt with her last —
well, Shade wasn’t her boyfriend.
    “I saved his life, a long time ago. He’s been
with me since. He thinks he owes me.”
    “We both do.”
    “No you don’t,” he said quickly. “I didn’t
save him because I expected anything from him. I did it because it
was the right thing to do.”
    “You like him.” She could hear it in his
voice. There was a trace of befuddlement and friendship.
    “He’s fun to have around. Someone to talk to,
and I like to keep him on his toes.”
    She frowned. “What do you mean?”
    He stretched out, pulling her down with him.
She pressed a palm against his chest and rested her cheek against
his shoulder. He covered her hand with his, warming her. “It’s the
demon in me. I love a good joke.”
    “Knock-knock jokes?”
    “I hid all the salt and pepper shakers in the
back of my closet. He spent a week tracking those down. That wasn’t
one of my more brilliant ideas. My food was horrid that week.” He
made a face. “One time, I turned every painting upside down. Took
him half a day to fix them.” He chuckled and the sound rumbled in
his chest.
    She swatted his stomach but he only laughed
harder. “You are mean to an old man.”
    “Like I said, it keeps him on his toes. How
boring would life be if there was not spice, eh?”
    Spice. Was that what made her do silly,
unplanned things? Was she looking for spice?
    “Do you not play games on your friends?
Family?” he asked.
    “No. My family was not the game type.”
Perhaps if they had been, she would not have gotten into trouble or
been so susceptible to other’s idea of fun. “My father was a
wealthy man. Important. We took family vacations once per year. But
we did not play.”
    “Where did you go?”
    “To the beach. Skiing. Wherever he could fit
in a meeting.”
    “Working vacations.”
    She nodded. “My favorite trip was to Italy.
My father’s meeting canceled and mother talked him into a boat
ride. With the big—wing.” She drew the shape in the air with her
finger.
    “Sailboat?”
    “Yes. I still remember the big, floppy hat
she wore. She chased me around the whole week, squirting sun-lotion
on me. I burned easily. I still do.”
    “Sounds like a good vacation.”
    “It was.” She nestled against him. “I miss
that feeling.”
    She wanted to bite the words back, trying to
sit up but he held her to him. Such strong arms, to escape she’d
need to use force. But—
    “What feeling?”
    She pursed her lips. But he eyed her
solemnly. She caved.
    “Being cared for.”
    “What about your coven mates? I’m sure they
take care of you.”
    “Yes,” she said; her gaze far off. “But not
the way you do.”
    “I like taking care of you.”
    “And I like being cared for.”
    Craning her neck, she met his gaze. Back and
forth, they stared at each other. Silent. Immobile. Slowly, she
dropped her gaze to his lips, parted the slightest bit. Her chest
rose and fell with the steady rhythm of her breathing but she was
aware of each life-giving breath. Acutely aware of how close they
were, of the fact that they were sharing the same air. The same
space.
    The intimacy kicked up another notch when he
whispered her name again. The delicious sound unraveled her
reserve.
    She rolled toward him; lay half sprawled
across his torso. Just a kiss. A quick brush of the lips. Just to
know what it felt like. Awake this time. Completely awake with all
her senses firing.
    He cocked his head to the side as if gauging
the situation. But then he lifted his head, obviously feeling the
same incredible pull, and paused, a hair’s width away.
    “Tell me to stop,” he whispered.
     
     

Chapter Eight
     
    Stop?
    Izzy