Embrace of the Damned (21 page)

Goddess help her, but the man was a sin to gaze upon.

Two cups of steaming coffee in her hands, she walked down the sloping driveway to him. He glanced at her with a look on his face that would lead her to believe—if worn
by any other man—that he was pissed off. On Broder, she accepted it as his natural expression. If the man ever smiled, she would faint. If he ever laughed, she would probably have a fatal heart attack.

He pointed at the edge of the gate he’d rehung. “Don’t step past the boundary.”

She halted and looked down at the faint line in the gravel. “Why? What will happen if I do?”

“The protections afforded you here will not shield you.” He hefted the other gate like it was made of tissue paper and slid it into the hinges on the stone archway.

Once the second gate was hung, she offered him the cup of coffee. “Want this?”

He nodded and slid the cup from her fingers. She tried to ignore the tingle that went through her when he grazed her fingers with his. He took a long drink as he examined the gate. He wasn’t in much of a talkative mood this morning, not that he ever was.

Setting the cup down, he moved to the electrical box. “The shaman did some damage to the gate, but not to the magick that protects this place. You’re still safe here.”

“I never doubted I was.”

“You should.”

She shivered, remembering the man trying to shove her into the back of the SUV. “Can the Blight break into this place?”

“No.” He paused. “But they have other tricks they can use.”

Her blood went cold. “What do you mean?”

Tinkering with the electrical box, he shrugged one broad shoulder. “They are supernatural creatures. The lower-level grunts are just that, grunts, but some of the upper-level demons, they have skills.”

“Skills?”

“Powers. Abilities. Not unlike the seidhr. Their abilities vary and can be unpredictable.”

“Fabu. And why am I only learning about this now?”

Another shrug, like it was no big deal. “No reason to
worry you. We can’t control all the variables. We need to stay vigilant.”

She snorted, studying him. The way he’d said that was so flippant. It heated her blood, but this time not with lust. “You say that as if you don’t care if they take me.”

He moved faster than she’d ever seen another person move. Suddenly she found herself pressed up against the stone wall behind her. The coffee she held sloshed over the side and onto the gravel. “Whoa.”

“I care. I
care
, Jessa, more than I’ve cared in a thousand years. The Blight will need to come through me to get to you. Understand?”

Her heart beat out a staccato rhythm. “I believe you.” There was no way she couldn’t with the look in his eyes, so intense and earnest. Her voice trembled a little. She swallowed hard. “And that’s why I feel safe here despite what happened with the shaman.”

He lingered for a moment, his gaze on her mouth, and she thought he might kiss her. Half of her wanted that kiss more than anything in the world, but the other half dreaded it, since every time he kissed her, a little more of her will to resist him shredded away to nothing. Then he would break her heart.

Finally he backed away from her and went back to tinkering with the electrical box.

Her hands shaking, she peered into her now half-empty cup. “I need more coffee.”

Broder said nothing.

She stared at the electrical box. “I could help with that, you know.”

He stepped back without looking at her. “Go ahead.”

Setting her coffee cup down on the gravel, she stepped up to the box and held her hands out. The magick inside her immediately responded to the electrical impulses inside the box and Jessa again made the connection between the electrical impulses in a person’s brain. She parsed through the tangled currents and put them in order, repairing the places where the connections were damaged.

When she was done, the green light on the front of the box popped on and she took a step back. “There you go.”

Broder nodded at her and went back to work on the gate, turning his back.

Well, then.
She collected her coffee cup and made her way back into the house. Apparently that was enough chatting for now.

She turned toward him before she went into the house. “I really want to make you laugh sometime, Broder.”

He paused in his work, but said nothing for a long moment. Then he turned his head partway toward her. “I haven’t laughed in a very long time. At least, not out of happiness.”

“I’m just saying, it’s a goal.”

He went back to work and she continued into the keep.

Halla was lingering in the foyer when she entered the tower. She had a little grin on her face.

“What?” snapped Jessa as she crossed the floor to the kitchen.

Halla leaned against the railing and shrugged a shoulder. “Nothing.”

Jessa shook her head and entered the kitchen, setting the cup down on the counter. Halla followed her in. “That man makes me crazy.”

“Not as crazy-making as you do him.”

She sorted out the bad grammar. “You think I make him crazy?”

“Like a top. He’s just good at not showing it.”

Crazy like a top—that was how she felt. Spinning and spinning … She leaned on the counter and closed her eyes. “He doesn’t show anything, ever, except maybe rage, or aggression. Maybe annoyance once in a while. Lust,” she added under her breath. “It’s like he’s … only half cooked.”

“It’s not all that surprising, is it? Many of the Brotherhood are this way. They’re tortured, Jessa, beyond anything you or I could imagine.”

Jessa studied Halla. She’d ducked her head and was studying the countertop fiercely. Clearly something weighed heavily on her mind.

“You sound like you speak from experience,” said Jessa softly.

“I do,” she answered with her head still lowered, “but I don’t want to talk about it.”

“I get that and totally respect it.” She took Halla’s hand and the Valkyrie looked up at her in surprise. “But please consider me a friend and know that I’m here anytime you might decide you want to talk about it.”

Halla smiled and Jessa noticed a sheen of tears in her eyes. “Thank you.”

Jessa slapped the counter. “I want to train today. I need to punch something—
hard
.”

“I can help with that,” Halla said, all perkiness and grins. “Let’s go.”

After they’d spent a satisfying day of training, Jessa took a long, hot bath. Her body was becoming harder, getting toned, and she could tell her waist was cinching up. Apparently running for her life had managed to do what nothing else in her life had—convince her she needed to be in shape.

She stood, letting the warm water sluice down her body, and grabbed a nearby towel, wrapping it around her torso and then twisting her hair to the top of her head. Humming to herself, she grabbed a bottle of lotion and left the bathroom.

A shadow moved by the window and she gasped in surprise, but instantly went on alert, every muscle ready to defend herself—even if she had to do it in the nude.

The figure walked into the light. It was Broder and she relaxed.

She breezed past him with the lotion bottle in her hand. “The door is made of wood, you know. When you rap your knuckles against it, it makes this really cool knocking sound.”

He moved to the side and indicated a pile on the table by the window. “I brought you some information on the seidhr. I just stopped by to drop it off.”

Jessa forgot that she was wrapped in only a towel. Leaving the lotion lying on the bed, she went to stand over the sheaf of papers. It was thick. Lots of information in there. She touched it with her forefinger.

“I figured you’d want it,” Broder added. “Erik brought it with him.”

Erik had found himself sitting all alone on the side of the road not far from the airport after the shaman had tried to abduct her. He’d hitched his way out to the keep right after. How he’d found people willing to pick him up was a mystery to her.

“How’d he have these with him? Didn’t he lose all his baggage when the shaman stole his car?”

“He had an external drive tucked into his pocket. I printed the files that were on it.”

She nodded absently, deep in thought, still running her fingers over the papers. This was as close as she’d ever been to answers.

Broder moved past her, toward the door.

At the last moment, she caught him by the upper arm. His skin was hot and his upper arm was hard with muscle. The feel of him jolted her out of her distraction and centered her totally on him. “Thank you.”

He shrugged. “I hope you find what you’re looking for in there.”

“It’s as close as I’ll get to a real witch or shaman.” She paused. “Well, at least to one that doesn’t want to kidnap me.”

He grunted in agreement.

They stood in silence for a long moment, the semidarkness of the room wrapping around them and the fire crackling in the hearth.

She didn’t know why she did it; she only knew it was a bad idea. Still, she couldn’t stop herself. Rounding the side of his massive body, she came to a stop in front of him. Lifting one hand to cup his jaw, she ran her palm slowly around to the back of his head and then went up onto her tiptoes.

Her breath touched his lips for a moment. She savored those few heartbeats before she leaned in, the warmth of his body near hers and the scent of him filling her senses. Then her mouth touched his, soft at first, then harder.

Broder broke the kiss, staring down at her. She was about to back away when he cupped her cheek with his opposite hand. A part of her wanted to pull from his grip, but another part welcomed the heat of his skin on hers. She fought the urge, as she always did, to give in when Broder touched her. He was damned relentless, this man. Most men would’ve given up on her by now.

Rubbing his thumb down her cheek, he leaned in so near his breath stirred the fine hairs around her face. His mouth came close to hers and he nipped at her bottom lip, making her shiver. Moving in nearer, he kissed her, pulling her lower lip lazily through his teeth before slanting his mouth over hers and sliding his tongue into her mouth.

Her heart stuttered in her chest and her breath came quick and hard. Like everything about Broder, his kisses were a combination of fierceness and surprising tenderness. Lifting her hands, she touched his upper arms, feeling the tenseness and bulge of the muscles there as he moved. She slid her hands up his broad shoulders to his neck and felt the silky brush of his hair against her fingers.

Gently gripping her hair, he pulled her head to the side, displaying the vulnerable column of her throat, then dropped his mouth to the gentle curve, pressing his lips to her skin. He groaned against her neck and she stifled a small sound of need. With one hand at the small of her back, he dragged her up against his chest.

Broder trembled against her, and then slanted his mouth across hers once more, his tongue pushing aggressively between her lips. She shivered as his tongue stroked up against hers, her body blooming for him. The towel between them became suddenly like so much air. She might as well have been naked.

His hand cupped the nape of her neck as his tongue delved deeper in her mouth. Her knees went weak, but Broder caught her around the waist and held her up. His lips skated over hers, his mouth making love to hers.

Abruptly he broke the kiss and set her away from him. Her body burned as if on fire and Broder looked in the same
shape. Without looking at her, he brushed past her and left the room.

After the door had closed behind him, she stood motionless, trying to sort out what had just happened. It had been insane for her to kiss him, maybe even a little cruel, but there had been no way she could have stopped herself.

She stared at the closed door, her body yearning to go after him, but her heart telling her to resist.

Pressing her lips together, she turned to the sheaf of papers. She needed to distract herself from him. Those papers held such promise, but she was so afraid they’d disappoint her.

After she’d slipped into a warm sweater and a pair of soft jersey pants to sleep in, she took the pile of papers and curled up in a chair near the fire with a reading light turned on above her head.

Paging through them she quickly saw that these were mostly notes made by the Brotherhood on the seidhr, specifically about the enclave in the northernmost reaches of Scotland, how it functioned and who was in charge. She held up a grainy picture, printed off a computer file without colored ink, of the man in charge of the enclave. He was old, old even for a shaman, and he’d been in charge for a very, very long time. His name was Thorgest Egilson.

She squinted at the photo, at the merciless set of the man’s mouth and the cold glint in his eyes. Jessa was thinking that immortality—or what amounted to it—was not a good thing at all. This guy looked like someone not to be messed with. She wondered if this had been the man who’d ordered her kidnapping. Broder had said it had come from the top.