apologies or make some flippant joke to turn thewoman’s wrath aside. Callista would be left to gather her damaged pride and her shattered nerves.
Instead, his hold on her tightened, his free hand cupping her cheek to tip her face up to his, the kiss spinning deeper.
Relax, Fey-blood.
Relax? She was trapped against his chest, the heat off his body singeing her insides as his lips moved warm and soft against hers. Yet her shoulders did seem to be inching down from around her ears with every second they remained locked together, and that strange influenza-like fluttering had begun again in her stomach. She didn’t seem able to help herself. It was as if her body had mutinied. It knew what it wanted, and what it wanted was more of this delicious heat worming its way through her until even her toes curled with delight.
She found herself answering the slow movement of his mouth, and her hand moved from his waist up his ribs to his shoulder and then to the stubbled strength of his jaw. She’d never felt a man’s face before. It was so different from a woman’s. All hard bony angles and jumping tension.
Through the roaring in her ears, she heard Lady Fowler’s snappish voice turn suddenly muted. In the dim recesses of her captive brain, she knew the curtain had dropped back in place, and the two of them were once more alone, the immediate danger passed. But the kiss didn’t stop. David cupped her face gently in both his hands as she melted into him, her knees now dangerously weak, her heart drumming. His tongue slid along the seam of her lips, and she felt herself unconsciously opening to him; letting his tongue dip within,slide against hers in a teasing, tasting dance she found herself answering. Her breasts tightened as the fluttering in her stomach sank between her legs, and she tilted her head back as his kiss deepened and grew more powerful, almost hungry. The hand that had caressed her cheek dropped to trace the length of her throat, glide along the collar of her gown, brush her painfully sensitive nipples through the serviceable fabric.
This was nothing like the rushed groping of the fair men she’d spent years dodging. Nor was it the crude ugly fury of Corey. This was a shimmering tingling buzz of anticipation. This was light and fire and joy and laughter. As natural as breathing.
“Beautiful Callista. Theosai nostimmeth ,” he murmured as his kissed moved to her cheeks, her eyelids, behind her ears.
“David . . .” Her voice barely more than a gasped breath.
Her grip on the bag unclenched. It slithered off her shoulder toward the floor, and before her mind even registered what her body was doing, her eyes flew open and she jerked loose of his embrace. The bag hit the floor with a startling clanking thud.
And the moment ended.
* * *
“I’m sorry. I don’t . . . that is . . . I never . . .” She inhaled a shuddery breath, confusion stammering her words.
David knew exactly how she felt because he felt the same. Off-balance. Bewildered. His mind topsy-turvy. He chalked up his reaction to the continued debilitating effect of the silver. Heart palpitations, shaky-kneed weakness. That had to be the reason. He’d kissed hundredsof women and never experienced these odd, yet not completely unpleasant, sensations before.
He opened his mouth to confess his confusion when she glanced up at him through the frame of her lashes. Her great dark eyes swam black as sin, an infinite emptiness without light or warmth. He tried to look away, but her gaze trapped and held him fast, visions flashing across his mind. He smelled the tang of pine, the crisp clean of new snow, and the sharp odor of rabbit as he hunted in the form of his aspect, his pack lifting their voices in unison with him as they ran the deep mountain trails. He tasted blood on his muzzle and the crunch of bones between his teeth, and later took his pleasure with a lithe young female, both as wolf and then again as man, beneath the
Instead, his hold on her tightened, his free hand cupping her cheek to tip her face up to his, the kiss spinning deeper.
Relax, Fey-blood.
Relax? She was trapped against his chest, the heat off his body singeing her insides as his lips moved warm and soft against hers. Yet her shoulders did seem to be inching down from around her ears with every second they remained locked together, and that strange influenza-like fluttering had begun again in her stomach. She didn’t seem able to help herself. It was as if her body had mutinied. It knew what it wanted, and what it wanted was more of this delicious heat worming its way through her until even her toes curled with delight.
She found herself answering the slow movement of his mouth, and her hand moved from his waist up his ribs to his shoulder and then to the stubbled strength of his jaw. She’d never felt a man’s face before. It was so different from a woman’s. All hard bony angles and jumping tension.
Through the roaring in her ears, she heard Lady Fowler’s snappish voice turn suddenly muted. In the dim recesses of her captive brain, she knew the curtain had dropped back in place, and the two of them were once more alone, the immediate danger passed. But the kiss didn’t stop. David cupped her face gently in both his hands as she melted into him, her knees now dangerously weak, her heart drumming. His tongue slid along the seam of her lips, and she felt herself unconsciously opening to him; letting his tongue dip within,slide against hers in a teasing, tasting dance she found herself answering. Her breasts tightened as the fluttering in her stomach sank between her legs, and she tilted her head back as his kiss deepened and grew more powerful, almost hungry. The hand that had caressed her cheek dropped to trace the length of her throat, glide along the collar of her gown, brush her painfully sensitive nipples through the serviceable fabric.
This was nothing like the rushed groping of the fair men she’d spent years dodging. Nor was it the crude ugly fury of Corey. This was a shimmering tingling buzz of anticipation. This was light and fire and joy and laughter. As natural as breathing.
“Beautiful Callista. Theosai nostimmeth ,” he murmured as his kissed moved to her cheeks, her eyelids, behind her ears.
“David . . .” Her voice barely more than a gasped breath.
Her grip on the bag unclenched. It slithered off her shoulder toward the floor, and before her mind even registered what her body was doing, her eyes flew open and she jerked loose of his embrace. The bag hit the floor with a startling clanking thud.
And the moment ended.
* * *
“I’m sorry. I don’t . . . that is . . . I never . . .” She inhaled a shuddery breath, confusion stammering her words.
David knew exactly how she felt because he felt the same. Off-balance. Bewildered. His mind topsy-turvy. He chalked up his reaction to the continued debilitating effect of the silver. Heart palpitations, shaky-kneed weakness. That had to be the reason. He’d kissed hundredsof women and never experienced these odd, yet not completely unpleasant, sensations before.
He opened his mouth to confess his confusion when she glanced up at him through the frame of her lashes. Her great dark eyes swam black as sin, an infinite emptiness without light or warmth. He tried to look away, but her gaze trapped and held him fast, visions flashing across his mind. He smelled the tang of pine, the crisp clean of new snow, and the sharp odor of rabbit as he hunted in the form of his aspect, his pack lifting their voices in unison with him as they ran the deep mountain trails. He tasted blood on his muzzle and the crunch of bones between his teeth, and later took his pleasure with a lithe young female, both as wolf and then again as man, beneath the
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