The Master (27 page)

Probably.

“You were partly wrong,” Nick said, turning to the fey.

“I was?”

“Yeah. There are still one or two things in the shian that are pretty damned weird.”

Thomas nodded, smiling a little. “You have a point. But I should call your attention to the fact that the shian didn't make the dragon. He's just a tourist and sometime guest.”

“I'm hurt,” the dragon interjected mournfully.

“And I'm a northern goblin,” Thomas retorted.

The dragon's long tongue snaked out suddenly and flicked Thomas behind the ear in what might have been a playful gesture. It snapped back into the dragon's mouth before Thomas swatted at it, and the dragon smirked.

“Liar,” it said. Then it added, “You aren't nearly sweet enough to be a northern goblin.”

Thomas looked back with narrowed eyes, but the unrepentant dragon gave a rumbling chuckle in reply.

“Maybe I want to leave,” Zee said, advancing on Nick. Her posture was stiff, her eyes filled with both anger and fear. She looked very unlike herself, and yet very exciting. “If I said I wanted to go, would you let me? Would the
magic
let me?”

“I . . .” Stunned by the question, Nick wanted to say
of course
, he would let her leave. He wanted to, but the words wouldn't come. His gut clenched at the very thought, his skin flushed with sudden fire and his heartbeat redoubled in an instant. His blood pressure had entered a dangerous realm, he realized absently.

Then he thought, I'm never going to get my nap. Half-frustrated and half something else, Nick dropped his shirt on his borrowed bed and turned to face Zee. He noted the way her eyes moved over him. There was anger, fear and something else— the same something he was feeling.

For one instant, Nick thought about the wisdom of seeking out a therapist for a little counseling, but then rejected the idea; he doubted there were any fey therapists in the area, and he somehow also doubted the local mental health clinic would offer the kind of couples therapy he and Zee needed to cope with the exciting new reality they were facing. Like it or not, he was flying solo on this one.

“Look,” he said, trying to be calm, “what I would do isn't the point. I've been talking with Jack and I don't think the . . . whatever it is that runs this place—I don't think it will let you go without a struggle. It won't let either of us go without a fight.”

“But you wouldn't stop me?” Zee asked again, emphasizing the
you
. “
You
would let me leave if I asked?”

Nick stared at her in frustration. Did she want him to let her go? Really? She had seemed to love it here when they first arrived. He supposed that this question could be a test of some sort; women had been known to do such things when they were in a relationship and feeling insecure. Or was she just feeling as overwhelmed as he, and was she beginning to panic as the reality set in? Had she been thinking about what would happen later, when they left here? About having kids? About living among humans?

A picture of his mother appeared in his mind. His family had always been there, salting the ground where his imagination tried to grow—though now he could see that his impulse toward magical games and fantasies had not been simple childishness. Such misery couldn't have been what his mother had wanted for her children, yet she had allowed it. She'd even perpetuated it. Why?

She had denied her nature, and had suffered all her life because of it. How frightened she must have been of all things fey—either those on the outside or perhaps the magic within herself—to have allowed this to happen to herself and her kin.

Had she had valid reason to fear? Had she known that, if she let it in, magic would rule her and her children? That her will would be hijacked, and that there could be no escape once the road was taken?

Then another thought occurred to Nick: Had his mother rejected magic only after she'd seen her proposed mate? Had it shown her something, some union too awful to imagine?

And had she ever loved her human husband, or was he solely a means to escape her fey destiny? If the latter, why had she needed him to escape? Damn it—who would have been her intended mate?

Nick sighed. He would probably never know.

He thought about trying to say something reassuring to Zee, but his mind was blank, logical thought drowned out by endless questions and exhaustion. His brain had been asked to deal with too much in too short a time; it had no answers for her, good or bad. In fact, he couldn't think of much except that he was tired and that Zee smelled fabulous. Her normal scent was a bewitching blend of candied orange and sweet chocolate, supported by a delicate musk. In the throes of passion that scent became heated and morphed into something darker. There was an odor of rich chocolate about her now, but also a strong, almost animal patchouli that enslaved him. Human pheromones had nothing on this perfume.

So, why not get closer? Have another whiff—a taste, even. You know you want to. She wants you to, too,
an

outside voice urged, a voice that was not his ghost. The small hairs on Nick's arms erected themselves, but he barely noticed.

It sounded like a wonderful idea. But did Zee really want that? That she-devil Lust clearly had her honeyed-tongue in his ear—and he was half-listening. Against his will, he still got her message loud and clear. But was this the right thing to feel?

Yes . . . take her. You want to
.

For the first time, Nick realized that the desire inside him was a living thing, possibly sentient. And just as Jack had said, it would take possession of him if he let it. The thought was a bit frightening. It made him angry, too. His ghost was bad enough; he didn't need anything else haunting him, trying to force its own agenda.

“Try to leave if you want. Let's see what happens,” he said impulsively to Zee, though he could barely get the words out, his chest was so tight. He was suddenly aware that there was magic in the room with them, and it was hovering like an angel—a dark archangel—and like those of the Old Testament, it was on a mission. Not wanting to provoke its wrath, Nick opened his mouth to take his suggestion back, but it was too late.

“Fine.”

Zee spun around and took two steps toward the door, but she staggered. She managed a third and then a fourth step, but she could go no farther. She swayed back from the door as though buffeted by wind, though there was no evidence of an actual breeze.

“Goddess damn it!” she gasped, falling slowly to her knees.

Around them, the blue light grew deeper and lightning began to crackle at the edges of Nick's vision. He didn't need an explanation of Zee's words. He felt it, too—the power—but it was not the usual fear; not dread, not holy terror. This angel came bearing lust. Nick also understood what Zee was feeling. There was a sense of betrayal—not by him, but by the shian itself; she had asked it for help and shelter and it had offered those things, but at a price it was exacting now.

That knowledge should have ended his feelings of desire, but it didn't. Heat was pouring off his skin. Desire unlike anything Nick had ever felt was roaring through him, dilating some blood vessels and constricting others. Though his temperature had to be abnormally high, he could feel every muscle in his body contracting, everything in his lower body pulling tight. Parasympathetic neurons were firing, and the arteries dilating that delivered blood to his sex. Only, there was nothing erotic about this moment—except perhaps the sight of Zee on all fours, where she had fallen. But that should not arouse him, for this was clearly an inappropriate time to be brutishly animal.

Enraged, and saying what were probably bad words in what must be lutin, Zee tried crawling for the door. Nick's arousal immediately got worse—or better. Certainly, it was more intense. Nick also dropped to his knees and began to crawl after her, and not to administer first aid. He couldn't see his body, but he had a feeling that he looked more stalking wolf than human. He realized that something—probably the magic about which Jack had talked—had hijacked his body and was trying to blot out his mind. He realized, but he couldn't stop it. This was a naked display of power by the ancient magic that lived in the shian, and he realized in an instant that it would not let them win.

The only thing that might end his agony was to stop fighting the impulse. To surrender and wait for terms. Surely they would be benign; the shian couldn't want them hurt.

“Zee,” he called out, his voice rough. “Stop fighting. Stop or . . .” Or what? Would he really attack her? Could any amount of desire turn him into a rapist? Would the magic really push him that far? He feared it might. “Stop, Zee, or it will make you lose consciousness.”

Half-gasping and half-crying, she collapsed on the floor.

“It won't let me go—it's as bad as the goblins,” she sobbed, and then whipped around like a cobra to glare at Nick. He'd never seen such an expression of animal desire. Perspiration had beaded on her skin; her cheeks and lips were flushed a dark rose. He could see her nipples clearly through her sweat-dampened blouse. But there was anger, too— and now fear. “Stay back! I . . . I might hurt you. I want you, and I'm very strong. Sometimes lutins bite. Hard. They—we—like blood.”

Then her scent hit him—dark, passionate, the smell of Zee's arousal. It was heady, made his exhaustion forgotten.

Please do hurt me, Nick thought. Draw blood— do anything you like. He felt wild and giddy but didn't laugh aloud. She meant what she was saying. Left and right, her hands gripped the floor, but her fingers were curled like talons and her eyes glittered. This wasn't a Zee he knew. His gentle lover was gone.

He crawled toward her anyway; she was irresistible.

“Tell me you really don't want this,” he whispered.

“Of course I want this—I just don't want to want it,” she snapped. He was close enough now that her breath stirred his hair. He could smell the scent of her roughly awakened desire that soaked her body.

“No word games, Zee. Tell me now if you want me to stop this. I have drugs in my bag. I can knock myself out.” Nick didn't actually know if he could crawl all the way across the room, and his bag was in the opposite direction. In that moment, it sounded impossible.

“You would do that?” she asked, eyes widening. Some of her fear and anger abated.

“I don't want to hurt you either, and I'm afraid I might if you keep fighting,” he told her truthfully. He could speak more easily; the feeling of desperate arousal was fading back—not entirely, but enough that he could formulate sentences. “I don't know what my own powers are, how strong I might be.”

“Nick. I still . . . I still care about you.” She ran her tongue over her lips, and he followed it with his eyes. “I just don't want this because
it
wants it. Our feelings should be real—not something some fey power invented. It's doing this for a reason—I don't know why exactly, but I don't think it's because it's best for
us.
”

Nick did laugh, then. He glanced down at his body. His erection had all but torn through his clothing.

“This looks pretty much like the best damned thing for me.”

“But what if it isn't?” Zee asked urgently. “What if you don't really want me? What if this is all a magical trick and you regret it later?”

“We'll have enjoyed ourselves anyway?” he suggested, trying for a bit of humor.

“Don't you understand? I don't want this unless you care! I won't let it do this to me! I'm tired of being used by those who don't care about me!” Zee whipped about suddenly, and she threw her body at the threshold.

The insane lust was back in an instant; before Nick could countermand the instruction, his body leapt upon her, using his greater weight to carry her to the floor and pin her there.

The polished stone was hard but not rough or cold, and stunned by her own desire Zee lay panting upon it. She found it difficult to breathe with Nick's weight upon her. His scent surrounded her in a muffling cloud that infiltrated her lungs, and the heat radiating from his body seemed to sear the flesh of her back—which she enjoyed.

She was captive. He could do anything he wanted to her, and she would probably let him. A part of her was enraged at the thought. But it was a small part, and one overwhelmed by the desire coursing through her bloodstream, a lust so strong that it made her want to scream and tear something apart.

For a long moment, Nick didn't speak. Zee could feel him struggle to control his breathing. He eventually managed to calm his breath, but his erection against her buttocks never flagged.

It was wrong, not what she thought that she wanted, but this still thrilled her. Because he wanted her to the point of insanity; this she could sense. And because she remembered vividly the feel of his lips on her skin and the taste of his open mouth when he kissed her.

She had known many emotions in her life—grief, terror, rage and finally love—and only the last came close to the emotional power of what she was feeling at that moment.

Love? Was that what she was feeling right now? A kind of love?

She thought it was.

The idea wedged itself in her head, like a pry bar jammed into the gears of a clock.
Love.
Though her thoughts tried to progress, they could not because they were stopped by this thought, could not move beyond the point of impact.

Zee gulped in a couple of deep breaths, trying to clear her head.

She loved Nick. And just as her father had predicted, their magics had met and mated. That had happened before they'd come to the shian. The desire—the crazy lust she felt now—was something being pulled out of her, amplified and distorted, but it couldn't be summoned if the feeling had not already been there.

Then Zee realized that somehow the two things— her love and this insane desire—had joined forces. Together, they'd crashed through her anger and resistance at being used by the magic for its own purpose. Lust alone wouldn't have done it. If she hadn't loved, she still would have been able to walk—or crawl—away. No magic, however strong, could stop her if she truly wanted to flee. Self-control was her shield and armor—her holy grail. With it, all things were possible.