Ким Харрисон - Every Witch Way But Dead

"Thank you," I said as I handed him the long leather coat that he had let me borrow.

His teeth were a glimmer in the dark foyer. "My pleasure."

"For the night out, not the coat," I said, feeling my nylons go wet from the snowmelt. "Well, thanks for letting me use your coat, too," I stammered.

He leaned closer. "Again, my pleasure," he said, the faint light a glimmer in his eyes. I stared, trying to tell if his eyes were black from desire or shadow. "I am going to kiss you," he said, his voice dusky, and my muscles tensed. "No shirking."

"No biting," I said, deadly serious. Anticipation bubbled up inside me. But it was from me, not my demon scar, and accepting that was both a relief and a fear—I couldn't pretend it was the scar. Not his time.

His hands enfolded my lower jaw, both rough and warm. I inhaled as he drew closer, his eyes closing. The scent of leather and silk was strong, the hint of something deeper, primal, tugging at my instincts making me not know what to feel. Eyes open, I watched him lean in, my heart pounding with the anticipation of his lips on mine.

His thumbs shifted, following the curve of my jaw. My lips parted. But the angle was wrong for a full kiss, and my shoulders eased when I realized he was going to kiss the corner of my mouth.

Relaxing, I leaned forward to meet him, flashing into a near panic when his fingertips moved farther back, burying themselves in my hair. Adrenaline pounded through me in a cold wash as I realized he wasn't headed for my mouth at all.

He was going to kiss my neck! I thought, freezing.

But he stopped just shy, exhaling when his lips found the soft hollow between my ear and jaw. Relief mixed with fear, making me incapable of anything. The remnants of the adrenaline scouring through me made my pulse thunder. His lips were gentle, but his hands about my face were firm with restrained need.

A cool warmth took the place of his lips when he pulled away, yet he held himself poised for a moment, then another. My heart beat wildly, and I knew he could feel it almost as if it were his own. His breath came in a slow exhalation that I mirrored.

In the sound of rustling wool, Kisten stepped back. His eyes found mine, and I realized my hands had risen and were about his waist. They fell from him reluctantly, and I swallowed hard, shocked. Though he hadn't touched my lips or neck, it had been one of the most exhilarating kisses I'd ever experienced. The thrill of not knowing what he was going to do had put me in a tizzy that a full-mouthed kiss never could have.

"That's the damnedest thing," he said softly, a puzzled arch to his eyebrow.

"What?" I questioned breathily, still not having shaken off the feeling.

He shook his head. "I can't smell you at all. It's kind of a turn-on."

I blinked, unable to say a word.

" 'Night, Rachel." A new smile hovered about him as he shifted another step back.

"Good night," I whispered.

He turned and opened the door. The chill air shocked me out of my daze. My demon scar hadn't made a single twinge, dormant. That, I thought, was frightening. That he could do this to me without even playing upon my scar. What in hell was wrong with me?

Kisten gave me a final smile from the landing, the snowy night a beautiful backdrop. Turning, he walked down the icy steps, his footsteps crunching on the salt.

Bewildered, I shut the door behind him, wondering what had happened. Still feeling unreal, I dropped the locking bar, then reopened it upon remembering Ivy was out.

Arms clasped about myself, I headed for my bedroom. My thoughts were full of what Kisten had told me about how people dictated their own fate when letting a vampire bind them. That people paid for the ecstasy of vampire passion with different levels of dependency ranging from food to equal. What if he was lying? I thought. Lying to trick me into letting him bind me to him? But then a more frightening thought pulled my feet to a halt and made my face go cold.

What if he was telling the truth?

Boots thumping in the hallway, I followed Ivy to the front door. Her tall frame moved with a preoccupied grace, predatorial as always in her tasteful leather pants. She might get away solstice shopping in leather, but I had opted for jeans and a red sweater. Even so, we both looked good. Shopping with Ivy was fun. She always treated for cookies, and dodging the offers for dates took on a delicious sense of danger, as she attracted all sorts of people.

"I've got to be back by eleven," she said as we entered the sanctuary and she swung her long hair back. "I've got a run tonight. Someone's underage daughter was lured into a bloodhouse, and I'm going in to get her out."

"You want some help?" I asked, buttoning my coat and hitching my bag higher up my shoulder while I walked.

Pixies were clustered at the stained-glass windows, hovering at the lighter colors and squealing at something outside. A harsh smile came over Ivy. "No. It won't take much."

The hard anticipation on her pale oval face worried me. She had come back from visiting Piscary in a very bad mood. Clearly it hadn't gone well, and I had a feeling she was going to take her frustration out on whoever had abducted that girl. Ivy was rough with vampires who preyed on the underage. Someone was going to spend their holiday in traction.

The phone rang, and Ivy and I froze, looking at each other. "I'll get it," I said. "But if it's not a run, I'll let the machine pick it up."

She nodded, heading out the door with her purse. "I'll warm up the car."

Taking a quick breath, I jogged to the back of the church. On the third ring the machine engaged. The outgoing message spewed its spiel, and my face tightened. Nick had recorded it for me—I thought it posh for it to appear that we employed a male secretary. Though now, seeing as we were listed with professionals of another sort, it probably only added to the confusion.

My frown deepened when the outgoing message cut off and Nick's voice continued. "Hey, Rachel?" he said hesitantly. "Are you there? Pick up if you are. I…I was hoping you'd be home. It's what, about six there?"

I forced my hand to pick up the phone. He was in a different time zone? "Hi, Nick."

"Rachel." The relief was thick in his voice, in stark contrast to my flat tone. "Good. I'm glad I caught you."

Caught me. Yeah. "How are you doing?" I asked, trying to keep the sarcasm from my voice. I was still stinging, hurt and confused.

He took a slow breath. I could hear water in the background and a hiss of something cooking. The soft clink of glasses and the murmur of conversation intruded. "I'm doing okay," he said. "I'm doing good. I slept really well last night."

"That's great." Why in hell didn't you tell my ley line practice I was waking you up? You could have been sleeping well here, too.

"How are you doing?" he asked.

My jaw hurt, and I forced my teeth apart. I'm confused. I'm hurt. I don't know what you want. I don't know what I want. "Fine," I said, thinking of Kisten. At least I knew what he wanted. "I'm fine." My throat hurt. "Want me to get your mail, or will you be home soon?"

"I've got a neighbor picking it up. But thanks."

You didn't answer my question. "Okay. Do you know if you'll be back by the solstice, or should I give your ticket to…someone else?" I hadn't meant to hesitate. It just happened. It was obvious Nick had heard it, too, given his silence. A seagull cried in the background. He was on a beach? He was at a bar on a beach and I was dodging black charms in cold slush?

"Why don't you do that," he said finally, and I felt as if someone punched me in the gut. "I don't know how long I'm going to be here."

"Sure," I whispered.

"I miss you, Rachel," he said, and I closed my eyes.