Read Online The Queen of Swords: A Paranormal Tale of Undying Love by Nina Mason - Free Book Online
Authors: Nina Mason
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window. To his eyes, she was no more than a pale shadow now, but her presence filled the room. And his senses.
“How do we know each other?” she asked softly.
Lightning cut the sky outside. In the sudden flash, he saw her dressing gown was very like one he’d given Catharine. The sight of it brought up more buried pain. Thunder boomed, rattling the window. Rain pelted the glass. A loon cried somewhere in the distance , the lonesome sound of it wrenching his heart.
“ You have some power over me,” she said, watching the storm, “and I want to know why.”
He didn’t answer; he was too busy kicking himself. Why hadn’t he fled beyond the reach of her spells the minute she reappeared? He should never have let her see him, or spoken to her, or gone to the bloody pub. What had he been thinking? At some level, of course, he knew why he’d been so reckless. She had power over him too. Power having nothing to do with witchcraft.
“At the library, you said we’d met before,” she went on. “A couple of times. Did you mean…in another life?”
The answer rose in his throat unbidden. He swallowed to thwart its escape. If he told her anything, he’d have to tell her everything , which he was unprepared to do. He started to say something evasive, but could give no voice to the words. Damn her and her witch’s snare. She’d enjoined him from speaking falsehoods.
“ You’re playing with fire by bringing me here. Do you ken that?”
She just stood there for the longest time, looking out and saying nothing. Then, in a low, even voice, she asked, “Did you kill Catharine and Caitriona?”
The question jolted him. How could she know? His mind groped for explanations and words, but found none.
“I saw you with them,” she continued. “In a vision. Or, rather, us. I was they , wasn’t I? In past lives.”
“Aye,” he blurted, unable to stop the answer from spilling forth.
“But you were still...who you are now. Isn’t that right?”
“Aye .” Damn her spell. “More or less.”
She came to him then and knelt before him. He waited for her to speak, but she didn’t. She just stared into his eyes. The rain had stopped. In the silence, he could hear her breathing. He could smell her too. Oh, God, could he smell her. Breath, blood, and female arousal—a cruel bouquet. His gaze slid down her body. Even in the low light, he could see she was lovely. So bloody lovely. Trembling with dark need, he closed his eyes, fisting his hands to keep from reaching for her.
“Let’s not talk, eh? At least not until you’ve restored my free will.”
Her gaze met his, jolting him again . “If I were to release you...would you promise not to run away?”
He let out a caustic laugh. “What part of free will did you not understand?”
Hurt darkened her eyes just before she looked away. “Don’t you like me? Don’t you want me?”
“Of course I do.” She brought her eyes back to his. “I’ve never stopped.”
“I won’t hurt you, if that’s your worry.”
That, he knew very well, was a promise she couldn’t keep. She’d be off to heaven, or wherever it was her soul went when it left him behind, and he’d stay stuck in everlasting purgatory with a sucking chest wound where his heart used to be.
“I thought I said no talking.”
She laughed, a sweet echo from the past affording both delight and pain. “And I thought I was calling the shots.”
When her fingers touched his face, a quiver went through him. Soft as a whisper, they moved down his cheek, along his jawbone, across his mouth. Rose-petal lips touched his with a tenderness he hadn’t known in a hundred years. She kissed his neck, his chin, his cheekbone, his temple, his eyelid. The moisture of her mouth clung like dew. Her nectar filled his senses and seeped into his pores.
“How’d you become a vampire?”
He flinched as once again the truth leapt into his throat. Desperate to mute himself and seeing no other way, he grabbed her
“How do we know each other?” she asked softly.
Lightning cut the sky outside. In the sudden flash, he saw her dressing gown was very like one he’d given Catharine. The sight of it brought up more buried pain. Thunder boomed, rattling the window. Rain pelted the glass. A loon cried somewhere in the distance , the lonesome sound of it wrenching his heart.
“ You have some power over me,” she said, watching the storm, “and I want to know why.”
He didn’t answer; he was too busy kicking himself. Why hadn’t he fled beyond the reach of her spells the minute she reappeared? He should never have let her see him, or spoken to her, or gone to the bloody pub. What had he been thinking? At some level, of course, he knew why he’d been so reckless. She had power over him too. Power having nothing to do with witchcraft.
“At the library, you said we’d met before,” she went on. “A couple of times. Did you mean…in another life?”
The answer rose in his throat unbidden. He swallowed to thwart its escape. If he told her anything, he’d have to tell her everything , which he was unprepared to do. He started to say something evasive, but could give no voice to the words. Damn her and her witch’s snare. She’d enjoined him from speaking falsehoods.
“ You’re playing with fire by bringing me here. Do you ken that?”
She just stood there for the longest time, looking out and saying nothing. Then, in a low, even voice, she asked, “Did you kill Catharine and Caitriona?”
The question jolted him. How could she know? His mind groped for explanations and words, but found none.
“I saw you with them,” she continued. “In a vision. Or, rather, us. I was they , wasn’t I? In past lives.”
“Aye,” he blurted, unable to stop the answer from spilling forth.
“But you were still...who you are now. Isn’t that right?”
“Aye .” Damn her spell. “More or less.”
She came to him then and knelt before him. He waited for her to speak, but she didn’t. She just stared into his eyes. The rain had stopped. In the silence, he could hear her breathing. He could smell her too. Oh, God, could he smell her. Breath, blood, and female arousal—a cruel bouquet. His gaze slid down her body. Even in the low light, he could see she was lovely. So bloody lovely. Trembling with dark need, he closed his eyes, fisting his hands to keep from reaching for her.
“Let’s not talk, eh? At least not until you’ve restored my free will.”
Her gaze met his, jolting him again . “If I were to release you...would you promise not to run away?”
He let out a caustic laugh. “What part of free will did you not understand?”
Hurt darkened her eyes just before she looked away. “Don’t you like me? Don’t you want me?”
“Of course I do.” She brought her eyes back to his. “I’ve never stopped.”
“I won’t hurt you, if that’s your worry.”
That, he knew very well, was a promise she couldn’t keep. She’d be off to heaven, or wherever it was her soul went when it left him behind, and he’d stay stuck in everlasting purgatory with a sucking chest wound where his heart used to be.
“I thought I said no talking.”
She laughed, a sweet echo from the past affording both delight and pain. “And I thought I was calling the shots.”
When her fingers touched his face, a quiver went through him. Soft as a whisper, they moved down his cheek, along his jawbone, across his mouth. Rose-petal lips touched his with a tenderness he hadn’t known in a hundred years. She kissed his neck, his chin, his cheekbone, his temple, his eyelid. The moisture of her mouth clung like dew. Her nectar filled his senses and seeped into his pores.
“How’d you become a vampire?”
He flinched as once again the truth leapt into his throat. Desperate to mute himself and seeing no other way, he grabbed her
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