Page 4 of The Death Dealer (Sentinels of Magic Book 2)

For three entire days and nights, Soleil berated herself, mentally cringing whenever she thought of the encounter with Trevor. How moronic could one woman be? Her retorts had been absolutely painful. Sometimes, she wished she had the best of her other sisters. That she was beautiful and bold like Taryn. Flirty and fun like Vivian. Cutting and confident like Josie. Trevor would be forced to take her seriously then.

She’d lain in bed, spending countless hours recalling their kiss, her body burning with remembered desire. When she wasn’t wide awake, recounting every stupid word she’d said, she was tossing and turning in a fitful sleep. Her dreams were filled with Trevor’s strikingly handsome face and mocking eyes.

Frustrated beyond belief, she tossed down the romance novel she was reading and rose to pace the greenhouse floor. Due to her irritation, her plants drew back, shying from contact. Never in her life had it happened, and she hated that it did now. Her plants were her babies, always to be treated with love and respect.

Working to calm her mind, if not her spirit, she inhaled and exhaled. She’d almost reached a semi Zen state when the atmosphere around her changed. She didn’t need to turn around to know who stood there. His energy washed over her, making her shiver—and not from cold.

“What has you in a state, earth witch?”

“None of your business, Death Dealer.” Hmm, perhaps she was channeling some of Josie’s attitude after all. She spun to face him. “What do you want?”

His raised brows lowered as a wicked smile curled his lips. “You seem a little salty. Something keeping you up at night?”

Blood rushed to her face.

“No!” She denied hotly, mortified he’d guessed the truth. Her lie was too little, too late. And definitely too emphatic.

Or so his laugh clearly said.

“I repeat, what do you want, Mr. Blane?”

“Trevor. And you looked bored.” He wandered to the cushioned bench and lifted the novel to peruse the back cover. “You seriously read this crap?”

She snatched it from his hand and hid it behind her back. “It’s not crap! Kate Bateman is one of the best historical authors today. Her humor, her?—”

Trevor shut Soleil up with his lips.

Her beloved book dropped to the ground with a muffled thud.

Sorry, Kate.

Soleil wound her arms around Trevor’s neck and shifted closer, hoping he’d do something daring, like take her on that padded bench. After all, that’s what Kate’s dashing hero would’ve done. Together, they could create enough steam to obscure the windows of her greenhouse.

She was so lost in the fantasy that she nearly fell forward when he pulled away.

His brows dipped together, and his face was a mask of confusion as he focused on something behind her. She followed his line of sight, only to see fog rising from the ground, thickening the air around them.

Oops! Her fantasy had become too real.

“What the hell?” he muttered.

“The plants need humidity,” she blurted. “It’s on a magical timer.”

Cringeworthy excuse, Soleil.

His confused expression disappeared, and he looked at her with something akin to regret.

She turned her back, not wanting to see his disgust for her take over. Never good at human interactions, she’d always lost herself in botany. And now, she wished she had a foliage-like ability to curl inward and protect herself from any outside threat.

Picking up a spray bottle, she considered using it to cool herself down, but it would be humiliating while he was watching. She misted the closest plants, moving along at a snail’s pace as she inspected the dirt, stalks, and leaves. With an added burst of vitality for each one, she continued to the next and the next. All the while, silently praying he’d leave.

“Hmm.”

Don’t turn! Don’t turn!

She turned.

He was lounging on the bench, with Kate Bateman’s book in hand, flipping pages as if fully engrossed.

“‘Hmm’? ‘Hmm,’ what? Why, ‘hmm’?” She didn’t bother hiding the suspicion in her voice. Surely his focus on the story was a ruse, right?

“Just that. Hmm.”

“One doesn’t ‘hmm’ for no reason, Mr. Blane. One?—”

“Trevor,” he said without looking up.

Flip.Another page. Another eyebrow lift. Another slight twitch of his lips.

Inside, she was squirming like an earthworm on steamy pavement after a soaking rain. “Mr. Bla?—”

“Trevor.”

Flip.A chuckle and, this time, a small smile.

“Mr. B… uh, Trevor,” she corrected when he cast her a sharp look. “Will you please put my book down and go away?”

A sparkle lit those startlingly blue eyes, and his smile widened into an engaging grin. “No.”

Irritated to the fullest, she stormed over and ripped the book from his hand. Or tried to. His grip was too strong, and after three useless yanks, she stopped their ridiculous tug-of-war. Stuck there, with her damp, dirty fingers smearing the ink of her favorite romance novel, and Trevor’s stupid, smirky face only inches from her heaving bosom… er, breasts… Soleil felt foolish.

Like one would a burning ember, she let go of the book and gripped her hands behind her back, sucking in a deep breath. The movement expanded her rib cage, shoved her boobs out, and drew his undivided attention to her peasant top… and what lay underneath.

All teasing left his face, and his suddenly hot gaze remained locked on her chest.

Uh-oh.

“What do you want?” she croaked.

He snorted a laugh. “That’s not a question I can easily answer.”

“Try.”

“I want to do my job and go home.” His sigh sounded regretful as he raised his gaze to meet hers.

Careful to hide her disappointment, she shrugged one shoulder. “Then go. No one wants you hanging around like a damned spook anyway.”

“No?” The smallest of smiles curled Trevor’s lips, and Soleil couldn’t stand the arrogance of it.

“No,” she snapped. “This is my sanctuary, Mr. Blane?—”

“Trevor.”

“—and I never asked you to invade it with your… your… your confident grin and your mocking eyes.” She folded her arms over her chest, managing not to wince when she smeared her white top with soil. Faced with Trevor, who was always pristine, Soleil felt frumpy. Reminding herself she could remove the stain with magic later, she lifted her chin and glared.

“Mocking eyes?” He laughed outright. “Your Ms. Bateman has filled your head with nonsense. Modern men aren’t the stuff of heroes.”

Soleil had never wanted to strike someone more. Or prove him wrong. She knew she could.

“You looklike you just won the blue ribbon at your local 4-H club,” Trevor said with a chuckle.

“I know I appear to be a country bumpkin in your eyes, but without horticulture, the world would die off.”

She’d said it stiffly, as if she was deeply offended by his comment. And perhaps he’d intended to get a little dig in. To remind them both they weren’t compatible. The Soleil Stephenses of the world were all about a warm hearth with an army of brats. It wasn’t for him. Trev liked the city with its art museums, culture, and vast array of women and foods. He’d grow bored in five minutes if he had to live the country life on this lost fucking island in Massachusetts.

“And real men are the stuff of heroes. Damian is a prime example of that.”

He laughed. Of course she’d view Dethridge, with his courtly manners and proper speech, as the quintessential hero.

“Why are you laughing?”

Her indignation made him laugh harder. She was the epitome of an offended virgin.

“You’re a jerk, you know that?”

Trev wiped his moist eyes with the tips of his fingers, trying to control himself and failing. He fell back against the pillows and hugged his stomach as he struggled to catch his breath.

A clump of hard-packed soil hit him in the chest, sobering him instantly. He stared down at the dark smudge on his previously clean white shirt, then at her, in shocked wonder. “What the actual fuck, lady? Why do you keep doing that?”

Soleil lifted her chin, but hurt lingered in her soulful eyes. “I don’t like to be the brunt of someone else’s humor.”

“So you resort to throwing dirt like a two-year-old?”

Trev wouldn’t have believed it possible with her previous inability to hide her feelings, but all expression dropped from her face, leaving it a blank mask. Her once-shining eyes had lost all life and were dull as she stared back at him.

And he hated it.

Hated the practiced look she wore, as if she’d had to perfect it to protect herself from bullies.

Bullies named Trevor.

But he wasn’t a bully, and he didn’t pull the wings off colorful little butterflies like Soleil. When exactly he’d gone from thinking her drab to colorful, he couldn’t say.

“I’m sorry,” he said meaningfully. “You surprised me, but I wasn’t trying to be hurtful, Ms. Stephens.”

“Soleil,” she replied softly, licking her lips but not meeting his eyes.

Deep down, Trev understood he was forgiven for whatever slight he’d offered up.

“I wasn’t trying to be hurtful, Soleil.” She backed away as he rose to his feet, and he took a step toward her, then another and another until he was staring down at her bent head. “I was merely teasing you. Not trying to upset you.”

“And I was just trying to tell you that you’re wrong. Heroes exist in the world.”

“I’ll have to take your word for it. In my line of work, I’ve seen the worst of the worst. Nice people are hard to come by.”

“You have a brother. Is he not nice?”

“Simon?” Irritation curled his lip. “How do you know my brother?”

And why the hell did she look so guilty?

“I d-don’t. Not r-really.” She took a step back. “I asked Damian.”

Not liking the way she said the man’s name, like she really did have a case of hero worship, Trev scowled.

She gulped.

“Why are you scared of me, earth witch?”

“You’re a D-death Dealer, and you look p-pissed as hell.”

Well, yeah, that might intimidate someone. “You don’t have to worry about any of that… yet.”

Eyes wide and fearful, she backed up a step.

“Oh, for the love of the Goddess! I’m not going to hurt you, Soleil.” He couldn’t prevent the sneer as he said, “Your hero, Damian, would wear my guts for garters if I did.”

“You’re jealous!” she blurted.

They both winced.

“I am not!”

For a moment, she looked crushed, then she crossed her arms over her ample chest and glared. “You can forget it, mister! My sister loves her husband, and he’d give you an aneurysm in a second if he even suspected you had the hots for her.”

“What? Why in the world would you think I have the hots for your sister? I mean, she’s sexy as hell, but?—”

“Because everyone has the hots for my sisters. Vivian, Josie, Taryn…” She shrugged and turned away. “You just seem like the type to go after classy women.”

He was, but he wouldn’t confirm it and give her the win. Also, who knew when the Aether would be listening in? The last thing Trev needed was for Dethridge to think he was after the man’s wife. Because his train of thought had jumped the track, it took Trev an extra heartbeat or two to register Soleil’s slumped shoulders.

In his mind, he replayed the conversation. She actually felt inferior to her siblings! Upon first seeing her, he might’ve believed she couldn’t hold a candle to the other women, but now… Well, now he doubted he’d not notice her first should the group walk into a room together.

Approaching her, he observed the graceful line of her neck and the way the dark hairs curled into little ringlets on either side, like little sentinels guarding the silky skin there. Trev had the overwhelming urge to place his lips on the V created by her shoulder and neck, currently exposed by her peasant top.

“I’m not interested in Vivian,” he said gruffly. “I can imagine a lot of people find your sisters attractive, Soleil. But you’re a beautiful woman, in your own earthy way.”

She spun so fast she crashed into him, and he instinctively caught her around the waist, preventing them both from falling.

Her chest rose and fell with her rapid breaths, and Trevor was damned if he could keep his eyes locked on anything but the exposed curve of her breasts not covered by material.

Christ alive!

He wanted nothing more than to bury his face in the shadowy valley created by their fullness. To cup her tits and suck her hardened nipples until she cried out and begged him to fuck her.

His gaze flew to her flushed face, locking on her pillowy cherry-red lips.

“Yeah, I’d say you’re pretty fucking hot yourself, sweetheart.” His voice had come out deep and growly, surprising them both. Closing his eyes, he shook his head. What the hell was this woman doing to him? He’d teased her earlier about losing sleep, but his nights had been haunted by their kiss, too. And after their second…

He needed to leave this island and go back to the city to get laid. Soon. If not, he was likely to do something totally out of character and asinine like promise Soleil the moon and stars or give her a shiny diamond ring. Trevor didn’t do commitments. Things along those lines gave him hives.

“I’ve got to go.”