Prince of Air and Darkness (8 page)

“Sorry, no,” he answered. “I didn’t think I’d be needing it for a ten-minute jaunt to the post office. Now are you going to let me work on those shoulders or not?”

Arguing would take more energy than she had, so she allowed him to maneuver her into a more advantageous position, her feet against the wall and her back angled toward the center of the elevator. In the darkness behind her, she heard him stirring, his coat making that distinctive leather sound as he removed it. Then, his hands descended on her shoulders, and she concentrated on how good they felt as they worked on the tight muscles.

After less than a minute, his hands stilled, and Kiera had to stifle a cry of protest.

“This would be a lot more effective if you took your coat off,” he said.

His voice was practically in her ear, and she shivered in the heat. Her hands plucked at the buttons of her coat, independent of her desires. When the last button popped free, Hunter dragged the coat from her shoulders. Underneath, she was wearing a simple white button-down shirt. When his hands descended on her once more, the pleasure was ten times more intense.

Kiera closed her eyes against the darkness, leaning into Hunter’s glorious hands, breathing his scent. Her head felt cloudy and strange, almost as though she were drunk, or hypnotized. He slid one hand up the center of her back until it rested on the bare skin at the nape of her neck. She shivered again, goose bumps rising all over her body. Those strong, agile fingers pressed more lightly now, the pressure something between a massage and a caress.

Kiera tried in vain to shake off the haze that had settled over her mind. Her pulse was speeding, her breaths coming shallow. Hunter’s fingers dipped lower, slipping under the collar of her blouse. She had to bite her lip to suppress a moan. Her breasts were aching, the nipples hardening. The movement of his fingers took on a steady rhythm that brought to her mind the rhythm of the bed. The ache sank lower, gathering between her legs. She squeezed her thighs tightly together, trying to deny the wildly inappropriate arousal.

She was aware of Hunter moving closer behind her, felt the heat radiating from his body. Then she felt the warmth of his breath against her cheek. He kept stroking her neck, the rhythm now unmistakably sexual. He touched his lips lightly to her shoulder, his kiss burning her skin through the cotton. A little gasp escaped her despite all her efforts to contain it. His hand finally withdrew from under her collar, moving down her back again, joined by his other hand.

When his hands moved to her shoulder blades, instinct told her they would continue moving until they cupped her breasts. Her nipples puckered tighter at the thought and the ache between her legs worsened. His hands began their slow assault, slipping around under her arms. She wanted his touch so badly she felt near to screaming for it.

Kiera’s eyes popped open in the darkness. Something wasn’t right. Her emotions were careening from one extreme to another, and none of it made sense under the circumstances, not the panic attack, and not the desire. Waves of heat still radiating from her core, she grabbed Hunter’s wrists just as his hands brushed the sides of her breasts.

“Don’t,” she croaked, though she wasn’t even sure her voice was audible.

Hunter froze, though she knew he could easily break her hold. He fairly radiated masculine strength. For a long moment, he remained still and wire-taut. There was a part of her that still screamed with desire, that wanted to shove her caution into the background and let her wild side—a side she wasn’t even sure she had—out to play.

Hunter let out a frustrated sigh and withdrew his hands, resting them lightly on her shoulders. “Sorry,” he whispered. “I’m afraid I got a little carried away.”

A shiver shook her entire body, and she took a step back from the edge. She was still wet, her nipples still hard, but the hazy, out-of-control feeling was fading. What was happening to her?

To her amazement, Kiera felt tears building in her eyes. She tried to fight them off, but she had no more success against the tears than she’d had against the lust. Her shoulders began to shake and she felt Hunter’s sudden tension in his hands.

“Are you crying?” he asked in a voice that sounded absolutely appalled.

She wanted to deny it, but her throat was too tight and clogged, and she sniffled loudly instead. Hunter’s arms swept around her in an embrace that held none of the smoldering sexuality of his previous touches.

“Oh, Kiera, please don’t cry,” he begged. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to frighten you.”

The anguish in his voice reminded her that she was overreacting. Badly. After all, he had stopped the moment she’d asked him to. It certainly wasn’t his fault that she lusted after him in ways she didn’t understand. And it wasn’t as if she were some blushing virgin. Really, what would have been the harm if he had felt her up? How ridiculous that she was in tears!

“Don’t be sorry,” she said. Her voice was hoarse, but she was reining in the tears. “I don’t know what’s gotten into me these days. You didn’t do anything wrong.”

He sighed again. “Yes, I did.”

Hunter didn’t elaborate on that mysterious comment, and moments later the lights came back on. He helped her to her feet and held her coat for her. She was so humiliated by her overreaction she could barely look at him. The elevator groaned back to life, starting its slow ascent once more.

Hunter cupped her chin in one hand and raised her head. His brows were drawn together in concern, and there was something haunted-looking in his deep blue eyes as he used his other hand to brush the remaining tears off her cheeks. His jaw set firmly, and he looked grim.

“I’ll never do that again,” he promised her. “I’m very sorry.” She tried to speak, to tell him he had no reason to be sorry, but his fingers moved from her cheek to her lips to silence her. “It was unconscionable of me to take advantage of you under the circumstances.”

Kiera gently freed herself from his grip. “You didn’t do anything, Hunter. Don’t worry: I won’t be traumatized for life by what you
almost
did.” She forced a smile as the elevator came to a stop on the ninth floor. She didn’t think it was very convincing.

Hunter gathered his coat from the floor, draping it over his arm. He paused for a moment in the doorway, staring at her with an intensity that made her nervous. The elevator tried to close on him, whining when the door hit him in the back and was forced to retreat. With a faint shake of his head, he stepped into the hall.

Kiera told herself not to read too much into the strange blend of relief and regret that flooded her when the doors closed behind him.

****

Hunter sat heavily on the plush couch in his living room, staring at the intricate pattern of the Persian rug at his feet. His heart felt like a lump of lead in his chest. In his mind’s eye, he kept seeing the shimmer of tears in Kiera’s eyes. His hands remembered the feel of her under them, remembered the terrible shudder that had seized her when she’d yet again shrugged off the glamour.

He had had her, her mind so fogged by desire that she would happily have let him screw her right there on the floor of the elevator. His cock instantly swelled and hardened at the thought. Even when she’d stopped him, she’d still been heavily in the grip of desire. All he’d had to do was pour on a little more glamour, and she would have let him do whatever he wanted.

But in that moment when his glamour had lost its hold, her distress had shone through like a beacon. She had
cried
for God’s sake! All because some instinct within her had told her that something wasn’t right. How could he keep pressing her with glamour once he knew what it was doing to her? The answer was simple: he couldn’t.

All he had needed, all he had wanted out of that encounter had been a single kiss to appease his mother. Even after she had shaken the glamour, he suspected he could have taken that kiss. She’d been in enough distress that a gentle, conciliatory kiss would have slipped in past her guard. What kind of fool would let her escape after all that?

But when he’d seen the confusion in her eyes, when he’d seen the damage he’d done to her psyche with his glamour, he just couldn’t go through with it. Damn it, he
liked
her. He didn’t want to hurt her.

And thanks to that inconvenient attack of conscience, he had doomed himself. The Queen’s deadline for winning his first kiss would pass in a number of hours, and he would pay a heavy price for his weakness.

Hunter sucked in a deep breath, trying not to speculate on just how the Queen would punish him. But he couldn’t help remembering that Bane would be the instrument of her wrath. The goblin’s hatred and creativity were legendary, but the fact was the Queen needed Hunter whole to accomplish his mission. He tried to take comfort from that.

Hunter told himself that there was only so much pain Bane could inflict without maiming or marking him. He told himself he had endured worse. He told himself that he could bear it.

He was lying, and he knew it.

Chapter 4

Kiera felt uncommonly stupid trying to explain to Jackson the bizarre reaction she’d had to being trapped in the elevator with Hunter. She was sitting cross-legged on his couch, sipping from a bottle of one of his home-brewed beers. He lounged on the sofa beside her, his elbow propped on the back of the sofa as his head rested on his hand. He seemed to be taking her seriously, for there was no hint of a smile on his lips or in his eyes.

“I presume this is the first time you’d ever been trapped in an elevator?” he asked.

“Yeah, but what does that have to do with anything?”

He shrugged. “Maybe nothing. I’m just saying that just because you’re not claustrophobic doesn’t mean you wouldn’t get freaked out by being trapped in an elevator, even if you’d been alone. Or with me.”

Kiera took another sip of beer, trying to convince herself that Jackson was right. It didn’t work. “I can’t shake the feeling that it was more than that. Jackson, I didn’t feel freaked out by the dark or the enclosed space—I felt freaked out by knowing
he
was in there with me.”

“So, you think he’s an ax murderer or something?”

“Don’t make fun! I don’t know what I think. I only know that this is all very strange.”

He gave her a gentle smile. “I wasn’t making fun. I’m just trying to figure out exactly what kind of vibes this guy is putting out.”

She couldn’t help rolling her eyes. “You sound like my mom, talking about auras and crap. The guy isn’t putting out ‘vibes.’ I’m just acting like a basket-case.” She was even more annoyed with herself than she let on. She had firmly forbidden herself from talking about this with anyone, fearing that talking about it would make it seem more real. Now here she was spilling her guts.

He dismissed that with a wave of his hand. “I respect your instincts more than you do. If he’s creeping you out this bad, I bet there’s a reason for it. You’ve just got to figure out what that reason is.”

“If I have such good instincts, why have I dated so many losers?”

“Wishful thinking trumps instinct.”

She winced. “Ouch.”

“Hey, I tell it like I see it. And as I’m sure you’ve noticed, I don’t do much better.” He gave her knee an encouraging squeeze. As if taking a cue from his master, Nuriev, one of Jackson’s five cats, butted his head against Kiera’s shin.

Kiera’s nose itched with an impending sneeze, but she stifled it by sheer willpower. She’d taken an antihistamine before coming over, so she figured the sneeze was just power of suggestion. To prove the point to herself, she reached down and scratched behind Nuriev’s ears. The throbbing purr brought a smile to her lips.

“Have you told your mom about the mysterious Mr. Teague?” Jackson asked.

She blinked. “My mom? Why would I tell
her
?”

The grin was back. “Well, she’s kind of an expert on things weird, isn’t she?”

She gave him a narrow-eyed glare. “Very funny. You’re a real comedian.”

“I wasn’t kidding. Look, I know you think she’s a goof, but she does know a lot about the supernatural.”

Her glare deepened. “I never said there was anything supernatural about this. What a ridiculous idea.”

He raised an eyebrow. “You said yourself you can’t explain your reaction to him. I’ve never known you to be intimidated or unnerved by a man before. Something about him has set you off, and if you can’t find a logical reason, is it so ridiculous to consider other more unlikely ones?”

“Yes, it is.” Jackson had never seemed to find her mother as outrageous as she did, but she never imagined he’d take it this far or she wouldn’t have said a word. She shuddered to think what her mother might say.

“Maybe you should try keeping your mind ajar, even if you can’t quite manage open.”

“Thank you very much for the advice, Jackson, but I am
not
talking to my mother about this. Knowing her, she’d decide this means Hunter is my Mr. Right and start making wedding plans.”

Jackson gave her a speculative look. “If I call him to make that massage appointment like we talked about, and he turns me down, would you allow at least the possibility that your instincts might be right?”

“I suppose,” she agreed grudgingly.

“And if your instincts might be right, do you think you could bite the bullet and ask your mom what she thinks might be going on?”

Kiera gave him her most stubborn look. “I still don’t see what my mom has to do with this.”

“Hey, it’s probably going to turn out there’s nothing fishy about him at all. I’ll probably call for an appointment, get a massage, and be out eighty bucks. The least you can do is humor me if he acts suspicious.”

“I have a bad feeling about this,” she muttered.

Jackson parodied her stubborn expression. “That’s the deal, take it or leave it.”

Telling herself that Jackson was undoubtedly right and nothing strange would happen, Kiera allowed herself to be talked into what might turn out to be a devil’s bargain.

****

Hunter had spent a very long and sleepless night, waiting for Bane to show up for his “progress report.” He’d thought about spending the night at a hotel, making Bane work to track him down, but that would only delay the inevitable—and would smack of cowardice, to boot. Hunter wasn’t about to give Bane the satisfaction of seeing him scared.