Page 9 of The Death Dealer (Sentinels of Magic Book 2)

After he finished his meal, Trevor placed a call to Fintan.

“And why would ya be bringin’ me into your cracked plans, ya scut?” his friend asked with his standard surly growl.

“I’m not, other than to ask you what the future holds for the girl, and for us, if we’re caught.”

“Sure, and the Fates could be listenin’ right now. Did ya even think to cloak us before ya dialed me number?”

“I’m not an idiot, Fin.”

“Pfft. That’s debatable, it is. You’re a feckin’ eejit if you’re thinkin’ this won’t have consequences, yeah?”

“That’s why I need you. And Draven.”

“And the Aether.”

Trevor grimaced. “I’d rather not involve him if I can help it.”

“Well, seein’ as I’m sitting here in his study, you’ll not have a choice.”

Fuck.

Damian’s smooth, albeit amused, voice came across the line. “Hello, Blane. Care to tell me why you haven’t brought Soleil home yet?”

“She wants some orchid or another from Stockton.”

“That takes all night to accomplish?”

“We’re kind of stuck here. Blockers,” Trev confessed. He winced as he heard Fintan’s savage swear and Damian’s cool apology to the man for letting his emotions get the better of him. “We aren’t in danger,” Trev hurried to say. “Stockton’s private and prefers not to let people bounce in and out.”

“Let me get this straight. You’re telling me you intend to help the man who has trapped you, along with my wife’s sister, on some godforsaken island?”

“Well, when you put it like that…”

“How exactly would you put it, Blane?”

“Probably like that. But Lily’s a kid, Dethridge. I don’t know why this one matters; she just does.”

A long pause greeted his statement, and Trev held his breath, awaiting a response.

“All right. If Fintan can see no danger and Soleil is returned safely by tomorrow evening, I’ll not interfere.”

Exhaling his relief, he nodded, although the two men couldn’t see him. “Good. So, you’ll release Fintan and Draven to teleport here in”—he checked his watch—“seven hours?”

“If they’re willing to get involved and thwart the Authority. The choice is theirs.”

“Thank you, Damian.”

“Don’t thank me yet. When you return, we’re going to discuss why you would allow Soleil to traipse halfway around the world after a bloody plant.”

The situation would’ve been funny had it not been serious. “I’ve got no say in anything Soleil Stephens does, man. That’s one female who does whatever the hell she wants. I’m just along for the ride.”

“See that she doesn’t come to any harm.”

As soon as Trev signed off and sent word to Draven to call him, he padded to the connecting door to check on Soleil. Inching it open, he peered through the crack. She was snuggled into her comforter, with the lamp still casting a soft glow over her pretty peaches-and-cream skin. A book was crushed to her chest, and it appeared she’d fallen asleep while reading another steamy historical romance by Bateman. Soleil certainly loved her romance novels.

A grin curled his mouth. As he shifted to close the door, her voice drifted to him.

“Good night, Mr. Blane.”

The husky murmur shot straight to his groin. The shock was so great he jerked the door wider to stare. Oddly luminous yet heavy-lidded from sleep, her eyes were focused on him, and her soft smile caused his heart to beat faster. If she were any other woman, Trevor would believe she was purposely tempting him. Not her, though. Soleil didn’t know the power she possessed. The power she gained with every minute he spent in her company.

With a fleeting frown, she blinked and eased upright. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” he replied. The single syllable was brisk and gave away the lie.

After carefully marking the page, she set aside her book and pushed back the covers to stand. The lamplight illuminated her shapely figure through her nightgown, and Trev experienced another jolt.

He wanted to order her to get back in bed and pull the covers up to her chin, like some Regency gentleman from her silly novel, but all he could do was stare as she glided toward him. His mouth watered with the need to touch her, but he wouldn’t. Couldn’t. Because Soleil Stephens wasn’t the type of woman a man dallied with.

Dallied?

Oh, for fuck’s sake! He might as well use that ridiculous book of hers as a how-to guide to being a dastardly dull duke or overeager earl if he was going to use words like dallied.

She scowled, and his stomach dropped. He’d forgotten to screen his thoughts, and she’d likely received a direct line to his distaste for romance novels, in general. Although Trevor didn’t know Soleil well enough to predict her pique or dismissal of trivial things like tastes, he didn’t want to hurt her feelings.

But she dumbfounded him when she asked, “What makes you think I’m not okay with a dalliance?”

Her question froze him in place, and his pulse pounded harder.

“Are you?” His raspy voice revealed his desperate hope that she was.

“Perhaps.” Her eyes were lighter, flirtier, and yet penetrating as she studied him. It occurred to Trevor that Soleil was a watcher of people. If asked prior to that moment, he’d have said she was a bit self-absorbed considering her plant obsession. Hell, he’d watched her for a week before he was discovered. All her attention had been focused on checking soil, misting foliage, reading books, and eating bonbons.

He grinned. He couldn’t help himself. Her hair was deliciously tussled, and those previously luminous bedroom eyes of hers were narrowed, sizing him up for whatever sexual fantasies she had in mind. His hope was they were plentiful and he met the mark.

Of its own volition, his hand rose to touch her. He used his thumb to stroke her plump lower lip. “When you make up your mind, let me know, babe. Until then, you should probably get some sleep.” Leaning in, he followed the gentle caress with the briefest of kisses. “Good night.”

Soleil stood motionless,paralyzed with want. Her stomach filled with a thousand swirling butterflies, and their activity was so great, she felt queasy. How could one man be so certain of himself and his skills?

Yet Trevor was. His easy confidence screamed Bed God.

For once in her life, Soleil contemplated doing something daring. Considered stripping off her nightgown and inviting him to her bed with no expectations other than one night of bliss. Sure, he’d accurately guessed one-night stands weren’t her jam, but for him, she’d make an exception.

And likely wind up with a broken heart.

But oh, it might be worth it.

“I’m okay with a dalliance,” she blurted.

Trevor stopped halfway to his en suite bathroom, his spine stiffening as if touched with a hot poker. He remained that way for the longest minute, and Soleil held her breath the entire time.

Would he take her up on it?

“Not tonight,” his voice echoed through her mind.

Her disappointment was keen.

His finely shaped shoulders dropped, and he faced her direction. “I want to. Never doubt it. But I don’t believe you’re as ready for a fling as you’d like to think you are, Soleil. You should know, I can never offer more.”

“Why?”

Brows drawn together in a deep frown, he closed the distance between them. If she inhaled deeply, her breast would brush his chest. But he made no move to touch her.

“I’m not relationship material,” he said, and the statement was as flat as his suddenly world-weary eyes.

“Why?” she asked again. The need to understand him was driving her to push boundaries she never would with anyone else.

“My prolonged touch is a death sentence.” He sighed and ran a hand through his hair.

For a brief instant, their bodies touched from his movement, and he stepped back as if burned. “My brother’s first wife died of terminal cancer. Did you know that?”

She shook her head.

“Yeah, because his touch, even with his magic bound, was toxic. Like mine. Like my father before him. Like our grandfather before that.”

“But your father was married, right? And Simon has remarried Evelyn Thorne, if I’m not mistaken. He can’t be too worried about her.”

“True, but there’s extenuating circumstances for that last one.” Trevor’s head cocked, and a mocking smile curled his lips. “You’re discussing marriage. So not a dalliance girl, after all?”

“No!” Her skin burned, and she was sure the flush was not attractive. “I mean… I didn’t say I wasn’t a dalli… uh, well, you know.” With a wave of her hand, she tried for worldly, but her stuttering gave her away.

His smile widened, and his hypnotic blue eyes gleamed with unholy amusement.

Soleil lifted her chin and met his bold gaze. “I’m merely pointing out that others before you have had relationships. Successful marriages. Your argument isn’t valid.”

“Wrong, my dear Dalli. My grandmother passed away within ten years of giving birth to my father. Her only child, by the by.” His expression sobered. “My mother was a powerful witch in her own right, but she was the victim of my father’s reckless decisions. As for Simon’s wife, she was mortal, yes, which made her disease ten times worse. It ravaged her body until she was unrecognizable.” He grimaced. “If you don’t believe me, feel free to research my family tree. Whether by accident, design, or disease, a Death Dealer’s bride is marked from the moment she says ‘I do’ and is destined to die within ten years.”

Trevor crowded closer and ran the tips of his fingers down her cheek. “You deserve more than to wait for sand to trickle from an hourglass, counting down the minutes of your life.”

“What about your past girlfriends and lovers? The ones you gave a time limit or sent away?” she asked him, watching the play of emotions cross his sad face. “Are they cursed?”

“Doubtful. There was only one I even considered staying with, and she left me high and dry. Maybe she was the one who got scared.”

“I wouldn’t get scared,” she said softly. “Not if the reward was a great love.”

A curtain fell over Trevor and his thoughts, blocking her from seeing behind the cool mask he now presented. “Even if I did fall in love with you, Dalli, which I won’t, I don’t believe in happily ever afters. I’ll leave that to you and Ms. Bateman.”

Stepping back, he purposely closed the connecting door in her face.

Soleil wanted to beat on it with her fists. To chew him out for assuming she was nothing but a romantic fool. But wasn’t she?

One minute she was assuring him she was sophisticated enough for a dalliance, and the next, she was pleading a case for love and marriage. A sex-savvy woman seeking short-term pleasure from him wouldn’t have argued the possibility of more.

“Way to make yourself look like a ninny, Lei,” she muttered to herself.

As she settled under the covers, she sighed her regret. A man of Trevor Blane’s experience would’ve definitely rocked her world.

“You can believe it, Dalli.”

“Get out of my head!”

“It’s free entertainment until you learn to cloak your thoughts better.”

“Dick.”

“Can’t stop thinking about sex with me, huh?”

“I think I hate you.”

But she was smiling as she turned off the light. Pausing, she frowned and glanced at the closed door.

“Mr. Blane?”

Silence greeted her.

“Mr. Blane?”

Nothing.

Then it clicked. He always refused to answer if she didn’t call him by his given name.

“Trevor?”

“Yeah?”

“I thought you wanted the connecting door open to watch over me. What changed?”

“Two things.”

She waited for him to continue, and his mental sigh was so forceful it was felt.

“I don’t think Stockton is a threat to you,”he finally said through their connection.

“And the other reason?”

“If I hear you rustling around under those sheets, I’m likely to take you up on your offer, Dalli. Then, we have a whole other problem on our hands.”

She desperately wanted to ask what the problem was, but managed to refrain. Barely.