Page 25 of Possess Me at Midnight (Doomsday Brethren #4)
It should be absurd—this massive warrior, naked and wounded, trying to intimidate me with nothing but the force of his will.
He can barely lift his head, his magical signature is gossamer-thin, and yet…
when he looks at me with those blazing green eyes, I feel the full weight of his dominance.
Even broken, even bleeding, Ice commands the space around him.
Commands me. My pulse quickens, and I have the sudden, shameful urge to bare my throat in submission.
My face flames. “You’ll do no such thing.”
He rolls his eyes. “There you go, ruining all my fun.”
A joke? He nearly died ten minutes ago, and now he’s telling a joke? Clearly, he’s doing his best to hide the extent of his injuries.
“Amusing,” I drawl.
“Infuriating,” he corrects. “No more chances with your safety. On this point, Bram and I would agree, if he was conscious. You’re far too deep into magickind’s troubles.”
“I’ll tell you what I told my brother: I won’t sit about like some helpless princess while the rest of magickind fights. It’s my cause, too.”
“Your funeral as well, if you’re not careful.”
“It could be anyone’s. Everyone’s. That’s Mathias’s doing, not mine. Now, stop arguing and tell me how you feel. Has the internal damage stopped?”
“Finally. Between distance and your touch, I’ve improved.”
“Anything else?”
He hesitates. “My head. When the mine hit me, the force of it propelled my head into the wall. I feel as if my skull is threatening to split open.”
Fighting to keep my gaze above the waist of his very naked body, I grip his large, calloused hand in mine. Closing my eyes, I gather up my power and summon the siren in me. To Ice, I send waves of healing, peace, and sleep.
He growls and throws a solid wall between us, blocking my well-meaning sentiments. I scowl. Ice has the energy to block me? Or is the mine still working its dark magic?
Suddenly, the barricade crumbles, and I feel Ice again. But this time, he sends me a blast of something else in return—desire that’s thick, molten hot, and oozing the most exquisite, breath-stealing lust.
With a gasp, I jerk free.
A tired smile creases his face. Despite his exhaustion, his arrogance shines through. “Felt that, did you? I told you; I’ve no need for your happy sunshine and rainbows.”
“I merely sent you peaceful healing,” I argue. “You need it.”
“Rubbish. I let you feel what I truly need.”
That overwhelming battering ram of desire and yearning?
Gaping, I force myself to breathe. Knowing he wants me that badly…
I’m staggered. I focus on Ice, on those green eyes of his that glow with unquestionable hunger.
Exhaustion still etches his face, and I know that blasting me with his desires cost precious energy he doesn’t have.
“No one has ever bombarded me with their emotions like that. Why did you?—”
“Really? So…you tell others what to feel and they abide?”
I frown. “I try to be helpful and soothe the troubles or worries others have, not force unwanted feelings upon them.”
“I don’t want to sleep, princess.”
When I remember the blast-furnace of his desire, I feel my face flush again. “So I gather.”
“Glad we’re clear.”
“Ice, you hardly have the energy to be wasting on such things. My touch has given you some, I suppose. But the sleep was to help you. I meant no insult. You must concede. Your energy is dangerously low. Your magical signature is nearly transparent.”
He presses his lips together and says nothing.
Then another realization occurs to me. “Is-is that why you sent me the sexual vibrations? You need…energy?”
He stares, heavy, glowing, jaw clenched. “Sabelle…”
“You do.” I swallow, studying his increasingly sheer magical signature.
Normally, a bold green laced with a fiery red.
It’s loud and unapologetic. But the black that rims it…
I’ve always worried that was a commentary on his sanity or his soul.
But now, I can see straight through it all.
Without recharging, he’ll be unable to run, flee, or help me evade Mathias.
Yes, my touch, because he Called to me, will provide a bit of energy.
But without a full dose of power, eventually he’ll die.
The knowledge that I’m his only salvation—and that he’s too proud to simply take what I’m offering—ignites something fierce in my chest. Fine. If he wants honesty, I’ll give it to him.
I ease off the bed and rise to my feet. With trembling hands, I pull off my stolen blue sweater.
My heart hammers as cool air hits my skin.
Instantly, I feel his gaze on the slopes of my shoulders, the curve of my neck, the lacy cups of my bra.
Our stares meet. Our gazes fuse. His icy-hot eyes make me shiver.
This is madness—offering myself to the wizard my brother would disown me for wanting. But the alternative is watching Ice die, and that’s unthinkable.
I reach for the button of my jeans. He clamps one beefy hand around my wrist. “Don’t.”
“But you need energy. And you Called to me, so you can’t touch a surrogate or…any other woman. I have no anger in me now to try to boost you that way. You want me and?—”
“I do, and well you know it,” he growls, grip tightening.
“But I’ll be damned if I’ll let you turn me into your next Lucan: a patient, a duty, a burden.
What passes between us will never be an act you endure merely to heal me.
I would rather die than have you spread your legs for me out of pity.
” He jerks me closer. “When you take me inside you, it will be because you burn for me the way I burn for you. Nothing less.”
“Your pride is misplaced. My opinion is neither here nor there. Your life?—”
“Will mean little if I have to swallow the bitter pill of being nothing to you. I hardly expect you to Bind to me, but I won’t have your pity.”
His passionate speech is using energy he can ill afford to lose.
Stubborn man! My frustration builds, a crescendo that trumpets into fury.
Ice could die, and he wants to debate the meaning of an act intended to save his life?
He’s trying to force me to admit the truth—that his touch fills me with a forbidden ache—before he allows me into his bed.
Exchanging energy in the magical world is common, and ours would be simple…
if he would merely accept my help. Does he not understand that crowding it with confessions and wishes will only make everything more difficult?
I tear away from his grip and strip off my pants and knickers.
My bra quickly follows. Ice’s eyes clamp onto me, hot.
Hungry. His nostrils flare. His entire body tenses, and though I tell myself not to look down, my gaze drifts across the harsh rise and fall of his chest, the undulation of his abdomen…
and fixes on the hard stalk of his cock rising between his well-muscled thighs.
A riot of sensations assails me. A sudden gust of dampness slicks me.
My ache turns sharper, demanding. I swallow against the need that’s unlike anything I’ve ever felt.
If I admit that to Ice, I fear he’ll use my desire against me mercilessly.
I want to believe that Ice is motivated strictly by his need for energy and his desire to possess the witch he perceives as his mate. But niggling doubt makes me wonder if what truly fuels him is revenge.
“I’m here to help you. I’m volunteering to give you energy.” My voice trembles as I sit on the edge of the bed next to him. “You need no more than that.”
Ice raises a dark brow as his stare devours every bare inch of my skin. “You have no idea what I need.”
Before I can argue, he grabs me around the waist and throws me under him, until my back hugs the sheets steeped in his warmth and earthy scent. He looms over me, his shoulders blocking out most of the room’s soft light. I feel surrounded, enveloped. Overwhelmed.
His stare drills into my soul. “Did you come for him?”
Ice’s big, hot hands grip my hips and slide up my torso until his palms cradle my breasts. His touch burns me. I can’t hold back my gasp as the aftershocks of his touch reverberate, crashing desire through my body. I soften. My nipples peak. I feel myself getting wetter.
He stops. Sniffs. Then he smiles, something dark and predatory. “You want me.”
“My body is prepared to help you generate energy.”
Smile slipping, he grunts. “Bloody answer me.”
“I’ve no idea what you’re talking about.”
“Lucan,” he growls. “Did you want him?”