Kay Hooper - The Wizard Of Seattle

Merlin slowly closed the distance between them and pulled her into his arms. He didn't think about what he was doing even to realize he'd never done it before; all he knew was that her aching plea almost broke his heart. It reached inside him, past all the stubborn boundaries, deeper than instinct, and touched a part of him intended by all the beliefs and laws of his kind to lie forever dormant.

In all his life no one had ever looked at him as Serena did, expecting only the best from him and believing he was capable of near perfection. Her confidence in him had often disconcerted him and more than once had given him a sleepless night; and when he had fallen from the pedestal on which she had placed him, the landing had been brutal. Yet, even after he had disillusioned her by behaving as an all too human male, and even after she'd been frightened by the knowledge that he could destroy her, she still possessed an innocent and touching faith in his ability to repair whatever was broken in her life.

And, Christ, he didn't want to destroy that…

He held her close, his head bent and his cheek pressed to her silky hair. "I wish it was that easy," he told her reluctantly in a low, husky voice. "But a wizard's power can't heal his own wounds, correct his own flaws; you know that. What's wrong with me can't be fixed by me with a simple spell or a wave of my staff, no matter how much I want it to happen."

"Then let me try to heal you." Her arms crept around his waist as her tense body relaxed against him, and her cheek rubbed gently just above his heart. "Give me a chance to try, please. Let me be close to you. Let me in, Richard."

It occurred to him as he held her that their only chance might well be Serena's virtually untried ability to heal. Though his intellect would allow him to consider the possibility of their being involved as a man and woman, the taboo stamped in his very genes set up a potent emotional conflict he had little chance of winning-not without years of struggle. In any case the end would likely be meaningless because he was sure Serena would have left him by then.

If he could overcome his mistrust now to the point of allowing her close to him, then perhaps she could correct the flaws and wounds his ancestors had inflicted on him and in so doing make him whole. Perhaps…

But could he allow her close? She was close to him now, warm against him, soft and yet strong, the scent of her hair and skin going to his head like fine wine. Had they been this close before? No. Not this close. And the urge to comfort was changing into something far more elemental.

The banked desire he had felt for years flared up inside him, and the instant he admitted to himself that he wanted her, he could feel something in him trying to draw back, to pull away from her almost in horror, attempting to dose itself off in safety. The instinctive withdrawal was overwhelming, but he struggled against it, trying to master the clamorings of a taboo he wanted no part of.

She was Serena, for nine years a central part of his life, and there was nothing wrong with how he felt about her, he told that wary part of himself fiercely. Nothing. She was no danger to him, no threat. She took nothing away from him, didn't make him less than he was; she added to his life, to himself. He had risked everything to come back in time because he couldn't bear to hurt her, to lose her, and surely the seeds of trust could be found in that…

"Richard." She raised her head to look up at him with shadowed green eyes. "Just tell me you're willing to try. Tell me I'm not alone in believing we're more than Master and Apprentice. Tell me that what I feel isn't wrong."

He lifted one hand to cup her cheek, his thumb stroking satiny skin and slightly brushing the curve of her lower lip. Had he always known her eyes were bottomless? He thought he could lose himself in them, a terrifying, seductive notion. "What do you feel, Serena?" he asked, his voice hushed.

Her long lashes quivered a bit, not veiling her brilliant eyes but betraying a pang of vulnerability, and her mouth twisted a little in painful self-mockery. "I… oh, hell, you have to know exactly what I feel. It's not like I can hide it from you even if you can't read my mind-"

Merlin bent his head and touched her lips with his. It was a careful, tentative kiss, very gentle and so fleeting that when it ended, Serena looked as if she wasn't certain it had happened at all. "Tell me," he murmured.

It took a tremendous effort for Serena to stop staring at his mouth, but when she met the liquid blackness of his eyes, it was like being kissed again-this time with all the heat and intensity she could see burning in him. Beyond any ability to lie or evade the subject, she whispered, "I love you. I've always loved you. And I've always been afraid you'd send me away if you knew…"

"I would have. Once I would have." He was bending his head again as he spoke, covering her mouth this time with more certainty and a sudden hunger.

Serena was instantly caught up in the almost shocking whirl of sensations. His mouth, smooth and cool against hers, then warming, hardening as hers opened to him eagerly. His body, unyielding and powerful, muscles solid under her touch, his heart like a drum against her. The aching of her breasts longing for his touch, and the hollow feeling of wanting deep inside her. The tremors rippling through her and the faint shudders with which his body answered. The burning she could feel, a surging heat in him and in her that was a stunningly powerful need.

For the first time in her life, Serena felt the sharp, mindless compulsion of her body's urgent passion. She had thought herself rather cool, uninterested in and unmoved by the desire of men who had wanted her, but Merlin's desire ignited her own as a torch lit dry timber. She wanted him so wildly, so desperately, that to think of anything except satisfying her desire required incredible effort.

She made the effort because she had to. Even as she responded eagerly to his passion, Serena fought the compulsion to melt against him, to give herself up completely to the astonishing need spiraling inside her; a new voice of wisdom in her head warned that this was only a first step for them. The conflict inside Merlin was far from over; even now, in this moment of closeness, she could feel something in him trying to pull away or push her away. The fact that he could hold her and kiss her with passion was definite evidence of his struggle, but not of his triumph over it.

We have to be careful. God, we have to be so careful. If we move too fast…

Every instinct Serena could lay claim to insisted that if they gave in to this suddenly unleashed, intense desire for each other and became lovers before the conflict inside him had been resolved, the price they would pay would be incalculable pain. She would have to bear the devastating knowledge that he could offer her nothing of himself wholeheartedly, and he would find himself bound forever by the heavy, anguished links of a chain his ancestors had forged out of fear.

She didn't think about how he had responded to her admission of love, simply because she had expected nothing else from him. He was literally incapable of loving her in return, at least for now, and she knew it. Only time would tell if it would ever be possible.

Though it took every ounce of willpower and resolve she could command, she managed to control her desire for him, and she knew he could feel her restraint. When he raised his head at last, she struggled to listen to the wise voice in her head rather than the clamoring demands of her body, and smiled up at him a little wryly. "I really didn't hide it very well, did I?" she asked him huskily.

"I didn't know." His voice was a little hoarse, and his liquid eyes were burning like black fire.