The Beast Within (18 page)

He kept staring at her. “After that kiss, you’d be hard to forget. I won’t leave you here. Lay against me. I can generate enough heat to keep you warm.”

She looked at his chest, seeing his intricate triskellion and mantling. Now she knew what the markings meant—that he was an incredibly powerful wizard who had lived a very long time.

“Keep staring at me like that, and I’m going to find a whole other way to keep you warm,” he said in a low voice filled with promise.

She hated the idea that she was reacting to him like every other female. Jerking her gaze up, she said, “You’re not in bad shape for an old guy.” Two hundred and nineteen. She couldn’t even imagine. “What’s it like to live so long?”

With his hand on the back of her head, he pulled her against his chest, and the heat of Gage began to quickly seep into her. Just when she thought he wouldn’t answer her question, he said, “It starts off feeling pretty damned good. Then people you care about start dying, and you begin to…disconnect. To learn to live separate from those around you.” He took a deep breath. “It’s one of the reasons we train out emotion as much as possible while apprentices. Not only do emotions impair judgment and cause mistakes, but they make you too fucking vulnerable.”

Shock seared her deep in her blood. The unvarnished truth of his words hit her. Flattening her hand over his chest, covering as much of his skin as she could reach, she said, “I didn’t think about that. So you lost all your family? Parents? Siblings?”

“No siblings. Once my magic-sensitive parents realized I was magic-born, they poured everything into me.”

His voice had gone flat, unemotional. Magic-borns were rare. Magic actually originated within them. So they showed early, doing little things like moving the toy they wanted.

“They must have been proud of you. Loved you,” she said, thinking that if she’d been magic-born, her parents wouldn’t have been killed by a demon.

Nothing. Gage was silent.

“Gage?”

He shifted his gaze to her face. “They died angry and bitter. Always wanting more, sure that more houses, boats, servants, jewels would fill the hole inside them. But it never did.” His gaze was barren, empty. “If that’s love, I’ll stick to sex.”

Sex was how he connected. It made her chest hurt to realize it. “Rumor says that before you became a recluse, you used to have your pick of women.”

“True.”

“Tell me you lied to them, led them on. That you used them and threw them away.” She needed to think of him the way she always had—cold, uncaring, too powerful and too arrogant.

“Why would I have done that? I didn’t have to lie to get women to sleep with me, Mira. Still don’t. They’ll come to the house and give me what I want. I give them whatever they want, except a relationship.”

She closed her eyes and knew it was the truth. His voice was just too baffled for it to be a lie. Her own raw honesty slipped out: “It’s easier to hate you.”

He stroked her frizzy hair and said softly, “But you don’t hate me, do you?”

She wanted to. All these years, she’d eased her own guilt about her parents by fixating on the wizard and blaming him. “Not as much as yesterday.”

M
ira woke with a jolt. Snapping open her eyes, she found herself looking at a massive bicep covered in flowing lines.

Gage. She’d fallen asleep in his lap. But now the sun was up, and though they were tucked back in the shadows, she could see his mantling clearly. She reached out and touched one henna-colored swirling line, tracing it over the hard bulge of muscle, down to the bend of his elbow.

Heat and velvet.

Intriguing.

Reversing her direction, she traced up, traveling over the rise of his shoulder, down the outside of his pectoral and back in to his flat nipple.

That little bud tightened. She ran the tip of her finger over it and every muscle in his body contracted beneath her.

She froze with her finger pressed just above his nipple. Was he awake? He didn’t say a word and his breathing was steady. He had one arm wrapped around her back, his hand resting just below her breast. His other hand was on her thigh.

She was pretty sure he had a morning hard-on pressing against her left butt cheek.

Was she going to play with fire? Before she answered her own question, she traced the line that moved through his nipple down over the outside of his ribs. Where she touched skin with no mantling, it was hot and smooth. Then she moved her finger over the mantling and it was velvety with a slight vibration or hum. She followed the line to the edge of his pants.

Then it disappeared.

She stared at that spot, thinking of him in the shower. The way the lines rolled down over his hips, his butt…

His cock.

She moved her finger to a separate line just above the waist of his jeans on his stomach. She traced it up, over the harshly defined ridges of his stomach and through the triskellion…back to swirl around his nipple. Mira let herself touch and pet the hennaed nub, feeling it tighten even more.

Gage sucked in a breath.

Playing possum, was he? A streak of wickedness, or maybe it was the new knowledge that sex was how Gage connected, urged her to lift her cheek off his chest. He didn’t move. She turned her head to gaze at his chest, not looking up to his face. The top of the triskellion had more lines bursting outward. One wrapped around his right nipple. Mira stroked the left nipple with a finger, leaned forward and traced another line with her tongue right to that nipple. Then she grazed her teeth over the puckered bud.

Gage hissed and shuddered, his hips pressed up against her bottom.

Mira released the nipple and looked up. He had his head tilted back against the rock. “You’re awake.”

A slow smile revealed his white teeth. “And very ready.” Lifting his head, he looked down at her, his light-blue eyes ringed with a deep gray.

That gaze packed a punch of pure heat. “Ready?” Why was she goading him? Playing this sexual game? But she knew why. The way he reacted to her made her feel a kind of power all her own. He made her feel attractive and sexy.

He caught the edge of the too-big shirt. “Ready for a little payback.” He began tugging the shirt up. “Lift your arms, Mira,” he said in a gravelly demand.

A shudder surprised her. She knew no one could see them, they were perched on a rock on the side of a cliff. Slowly, she raised her arms.

Gage pulled the shirt off. Immediately the cool air slipped around her back, stomach and breasts. Her nipples tightened, and she lowered her arms. What would he think? Mira wasn’t model thin. She wasn’t super pretty, or special in any way. She was just plain, magic-blind Mira.

“Exquisite,” he said and dropped the shirt.

She sat sideways on his thighs, feeling his erection pressing against her left hip, and his hot gaze on her breasts. He wrapped his right arm around her shoulders and pulled her back, tugging her until she lay back over his legs, her head resting against his massive bicep.

“Let me, Mira. I have to touch you.”

She looked up at his face, seeing the raw need in the starkness of his cheekbones, the way he pressed his lips together until they were severe. He lifted his hand and used his index finger to trace imaginary lines from her collar bone over the slope of her breast to her nipple.

“Close your eyes, I want you to feel what I felt.”

She lifted her gaze to his. The lightest blue surrounded by a dark gray that told her that true pain lived inside him.

“I’ve got you,” he said simply.

She believed him and closed her eyes. She felt him slide his finger over her nipple. The pad of his finger had work-roughened ridges and teased her nerve endings. She sucked in her breath and arched into his touch.

Gage trailed down underneath her breast, then cupped her. “Big enough to fill my hand.”

Sensations shot to her belly and then straight to her groin. It was like he was getting beneath her skin, touching more of her. Baring more than her breasts. Seeing more than skin and nipples. The connection was too much, too soon. “Gage…”

He used his arm beneath her to lift her into a kiss. His full, firm lips sliding over hers. “Felt it too. It’s like you’re a witch, casting a spell on me.”

She opened her eyes. “I’m no witch.”

Lifting an eyebrow, he used his thumb to torture her nipple. “No. You’re Mira. Mira Tate.”

She knew then that he saw her. As she was. And liked it. It tore through her, made her body soften, open.

Trust.

She sat up, turned and straddled him. Putting her hands on his shoulders, she felt the lines of his power practically burrow into her palms and fingers.

He closed his large hands around her rib cage and ran his thumbs under her breasts. She saw his nostrils flare as she leaned closer.

And closer.

“Don’t stop. Please.” He urged her forward until the tip of her breast just touched the heat of his mouth. He cupped the weight in one hand, squeezing slightly and drew the nipple in, then suckled.

A shudder ran down her back. She dug her fingers into his shoulders as pleasure burst in hot little rivers.

He pulled and suckled, then turned her to capture her other nipple.

She rubbed her hands over his hot skin, then sank her fingers into his thick hair, holding him to her. Hot need roared through her, making her skin burn, her thighs clench and that deep ache yearned to be filled. She couldn’t hold still, and she cradled his head to pull him from her breast. Then she laid her mouth over his.

She licked his lips, then swirled her tongue deep into his mouth as she lowered her body until she felt the hard ridge of the erection trapped in his jeans press between her legs. Her swollen folds were so sensitized, she shuddered.

Gage groaned into her mouth, caught hold of her hips and thrust against her.

“Gage…” Whatever she’d been going to say, whatever raw words were trying to escape were lost when she was thrown into a whirling vortex. The rock beneath them vanished, and suddenly there was nothing. She was spinning through nothingness. Terror exploded in her mind as she squeezed her eyes shut.

Then she felt strong arms lock her to a powerful body. Mira held on to the one safe thing: Gage.

Gage landed on a large, soft bed with Mira sprawled on top of him. He had a hand on her ass covered by his sweatpants. Her big, warm breasts were crushed into his chest.

His first thought was that it was a damned inconvenient time to have flash-jumped again.

But they had landed in a soft bed. He liked that. Oh yeah, it was perfect.

“My head is trying to explode.” She lifted her head—which forced her hips down right onto his cock.

He groaned at the feel of her hot core pressed against his jeans. He knew she didn’t have panties on beneath that well-washed cotton. She was so hot, so incredible, he was desperate to get her completely naked.

He had seen her naked once and it hadn’t been enough. It wouldn’t be enough until he’d touched all of her. Tasted all of her. And until he’d been so deep inside her, she’d come apart, screaming his name while he filled her again and again.

He looked up at her shocked eyes, frizzed hair and that full mouth slightly open. She looked like a woman ready for hot sex, except that there was a tightness at the edges of her eyes and she’d paled a bit from the jump. He reached up and ran his hand over the wild frizz. “Breathe. The throb in your head will fade in a second. Flash-jumping puts tremendous force on your body.”

He saw the confusion completely clear and the remaining desire drain off. Her brows snapped together. “We flash-jumped again! What if Gram is here?”

Shit. He could cheerfully electrocute anyone that got between him and this hot, sexy woman. But she pushed off him to stand up. He reluctantly let her go and sat up to look around. “Hotel room of some kind.”

“Gage, I don’t have a shirt.”

He forgot the room and looked back at her. She had breasts big enough to fill his hands. His cock went rock hard again. But what struck him right through his solar plexus were the henna-colored ribbons marking her skin around her breasts. It was the sexiest thing he’d ever seen.

His mark on her. Where his mouth had been, his fingers.

He looked down, taking in her slightly rounded stomach and hips a man could hold while burying himself deep inside her. Dressed only in his too-big sweats, with her ridiculously wild hair and his mantling caressing her full breasts, he wanted her more.

Without looking down, she wrapped her arms around herself and shivered. “I can’t let my grandmother see me like this! Or that wizard! If they are here…”

The lines faded away as she spoke. His brain finally snapped into action. Sitting up, he picked up the shirt that he’d pulled off her. He’d dropped it down on his lap, and it had been scrunched between them. Standing up, he handed it to her. “I don’t think they are here.” He’d have felt the wizard’s energy instantly.

Mira yanked on the wrinkled shirt. “I’ll look around.” She moved past him to walk between the bed and the dresser with the large flat screen mounted over it and disappeared through a door. She came back out, her mouth flat, her brown eyes wide. “Gram’s not here, but I found this.”

He crossed the room and looked down at her outstretched palm. She had two gemstones now, the moss agate from last night and a bloodred ruby. He looked up to her eyes. “From her bracelet?”

She nodded and frowned in concentration. “Ruby is the most powerful of the gemstones. Gram said the ruby is my stone.” She lifted her stare from her palm to him. “I don’t know what she’s telling me. I get the first stone. That told me a wizard took her. But this?”

Gage got it. Her Gram was smart. “A powerful wizard, as powerful as the ruby.” And that was a big problem. Now that he had his mind off Mira’s body, it was clear to him that he was dealing with another master wizard. Only a master wizard had the ability to flash-jump, and this wizard had to be flash-jumping. How else would he have gotten Mira’s grandmother to that ledge they’d spent the night on?

“Oh.” Mira’s shoulders lowered. “Will he hurt her?”

Her question hovered, and her deep worry punched him in the gut. Gage clenched his fists to keep from reaching out to her and drawing her to him. He actually wanted to comfort her.

Unproductive and useless. He had to get his priorities straight. Find the wizard, save Calia and re-establish his authority in town. Then fix his powers so he could seal the portal on his property forever.

Mira’s shoulders shot back up to her ears and her chin rose as she announced, “I won’t let him hurt her! We have to find her!”

He refused to get caught up in her emotional swings. She’d distracted him last night when he’d been more concerned about her comfort and safety than anything else. He’d only made one attempt to summon his BlackBerry to check in with Rhys. That had ended badly, with his hand frying and glowing like a flashlight, and frizzing out Mira’s hair. He told her, “The potion is working, breaking through the cloak the wizard is using. The wizard who has Calia isn’t going to hurt her. He wants something from her.”

She closed her fist around the two stones. “So we’ll jump again?”

He suspected they would. They seemed to be following the wizard. Which meant his power must be healing to do even that much, but it wasn’t completely healed or the potion would have taken Gage right to the wizard. But he needed Mira to believe he knew what he was doing. “Yes, but we should have some time.”

She turned and went to the telephone on the bedside table where she picked up the directory and read it. “We’re at Raven Mist Resort.” She looked up. “If you flash-jump without me, call me here and tell me where you are.”

He wondered at the look in her eyes—so hard assed and bossy—until he remembered what she’d said last night. Her family forgot her places, just left her behind.

Her parents had left her too. It hadn’t been their fault, but she’d just been a little girl. The core of his magic sizzled in his triskellion, the spirals turning out of sync and emitting a couple sparks.

Mira’s gaze dropped to his chest. Color washed into her face. “What…?”

Like he knew? And shit, he saw her gaze warming with desire, causing a strange zinging reaction in his mantling. He’d been desired thousands of times, and it had always been his cock that reacted, not his magic. Abruptly, he said, “I’m going to take a shower.” He went into the large bathroom with the separate shower and Jacuzzi tub. After shutting and locking the door, he held out his hand and concentrated on his BlackBerry, just as he’d done the night before.

Sparks shot off his palm like a Fourth of July sparkler, followed by the stench of burnt plastic. Then a hard black lump appeared in his hand. “Damn it,” he hissed at what used to be his BlackBerry. His powers half worked, summoning the BlackBerry but frying it along the way. Furious, he dumped it in the waste can, then turned on the shower. Stripping, he got under the hot spray and washed faster than any mortal. Then leaving the shower running to cover his sounds, he got out. Grabbing a towel, he quickly dried off and knotted it around his waist. He went to the steamed-up mirror and placed his right hand over his triskellion. Because Rhys trained him, then branded him, they had a strong connection. It was how Gage had raised his spirit from the death-sleep. Gage concentrated and called out, “Rhys, find me.”