Traveler (14 page)

She would have been angry as well as frightened if she thought he was using his stronger magic on her in some casual seduction, but she knew it was something much more for Jack too. For better or worse, the attraction between them was not something to be dismissed as careless itch-scratching.

Io shied away from using the word “love.” To name a thing gave it power, and she did not want to empower this attraction lest it overwhelm her. It was way too soon to begin thinking this way. And way too dangerous.

“You’re thinking,” he growled.

“Not with this brain, I’m not.” She sighed, finally letting go of reason and fear. She leaned into Jack, allowing him to take her weight.

“What do you say that we move this party into the shower?” Io blinked, so Jack explained, “As much as I want you, I don’t want us stuck in nose breathers for the night because we reek too much of goblin to stand each other without them. I’m saying that I want to start things off right.”

“Let’s start clean and new,” she agreed in a murmur. “Good idea.”

“And let’s hope it’s the first of many beginnings.”

Rebirth begins with baptism.
Io didn’t know why this thought occurred to her at such a moment. Perhaps because she had quoted from the Bible earlier and some of its images had wedged in her mind.

The shower was not the River Jordan, but if the water was less than warm and holy, she never noticed. There was too much fascination in seeing Jack without clothing. She had
seen
him before, but that had been only with the eyes of a wary stranger. She had not looked with the vision of a lover. A lover’s eyes saw much, much more than just the surface skin that wrapped the true person.

His body was not flawless. It carried scars as reminders of past battles. But while marred, it was still beautiful. Those wise eyes, the heat of him, the clever hands! She watched in a sort of helpless fascination as they ran over her bemused flesh, undressing
her and then smoothing away the salty traces of old fear.

More astonishing still was seeing her own arms raise and feeling the pads of her fingers trace the outline of Jack’s body. The musculature looked like any man’s but it felt wildly different. Beneath the skin and hard, flat muscles, Jack was a different beast—a creature not simply possessed of magic, but made of it.

Desire reasoned faster than prudence. It was dangerous folly, a potentially fatal recklessness, but Io wanted most urgently to know who and what Jack really was. In that instant, she might even have sold her soul if it was the only way she could have him.

He understood this and kissed her.
Ah! Such a kiss
. She fell into it, twining arms about him and then legs, locking them about his waist as she had earlier. She pushed back with her own magic, willing the desire to compound.

Jack’s arm wrapped about her hips and another circled her back, protecting it from the cold of the tiles when he leaned against them. His hand fisted in her hair and he pinned her, stilling most of her maddened squirming. He lowered his head and nipped at her throat.

Io didn’t want to be stilled. If she could have reached the wall in front of her she would have pounded on it with her fists. But as it was there was nothing but Jack’s slick body within reach, and that was hardly a help in restoring calm. Pinned and
helpless, she felt the excitement in her body with no place to go and nothing to do but race ever faster as it ran through her, driven by the ever increasing tempo of her heart. She moaned in frustration and ran ungentle nails down Jack’s back.

“Temptation is good, but don’t drive me to insanity just yet,” he warned as he lifted his head from her throat. His eyes were deadly serious. “It isn’t wise to push too hard too soon, little fey. We are both carrying a lot of spells, a lot of wild magic.”

Shaken by his words, she stopped struggling and hung suspended and helpless. The magic rushed through her. As reason drove back the blindness of desire, she realized for the first time how very strong Jack was. She could unhook her legs and let go with her arms, but it would make no difference. She was pinned against the wall by a body and will far more powerful than her own.

And he could have made this happen at any time. She had never had any real control beyond what he had given her. Her eyes widened as she realized this, and met Jack’s with her astonished observation plain to see.

Yes, now you understand.

And she did. She was helpless. What would be, would be—because Jack willed it.

Seeing the wariness that filled her mind when she understood her vulnerability, he made his kisses lighter, his touch more tender, assuring her with his
body that his passions were strong but not violent.
Trust me now.

She heard a voice cry out, and knew it was probably her own, but her ears were not familiar with the sound. It was a noise that was neither all passion nor all pain, but some strange mix of both.

He slid into her—a physical shock, as he had not been kidding about his body’s dimensions—and then the real possession began.

Their hearts began to syncopate; she could feel it happening, her body adopting a rhythm that was not her own. It was all Jack’s! He slowly moved through her, controlling her heart, the flow of her blood, perhaps her thoughts and her very soul—and in the next few moments he would decide if she lived or died. He would decide whether she knew the little death, or the big one.

Eat my heart, drink my soul, love me to death.

“How about a pretty big one?” he murmured, obviously hearing her thoughts and doing his best to see her past the fear. “Trust me, Io. We will live and enjoy this moment. You just have to trust.”

He needn’t have asked for permission. She gave it anyway, and the tightness in her chest suddenly eased.

“Love me, Jack.”

And he did. Bodies pounded, hearts pounded, the rush of tangled magic and emotions scalding them with something immeasurably sweet yet dangerous. Io watched, eyes wide, as the passionate finale
rushed at them. Jack’s eyes were open, too, and shone with a sort of exaltation.

Magic lit the dawn in a blinding flash, and for a moment Jack and Io’s hearts stopped beating as their released souls decided whether to flee with the departing ecstasy or return to their earthly bodies.

Chained by Jack’s will and Io’s dreams and ambitions, their spirits finally returned to their fleshly houses. Reason returned too. Jack and Io’s entwined bodies slowly sorted out whose heart was whose and where the magic belonged.

Finally, Jack reached over and turned off the tap, the noise loud in the silent aftermath.

Feeling drained and weaker than at any time in her life, Io slumped against Jack, her face buried in the curve of his neck, again content to let his arm take her weight, for him to carry her to their bed.

“So,” he asked quietly. “Was that big enough?”

Io didn’t answer, but she knew he felt her lips curve as she smiled.

“We’ll get to the ‘eat me, drink me’ part later. It doesn’t do to rush these things.”

“Be still my heart,” she murmured in response. And this time she meant it.

They lay cuddled under the hammock’s blanket, Jack content to watch Io sleep while he thought about what had occurred.

Io had been right to be wary of what was happening between them. Sex with magic was a dangerous
thing—wonderful beyond anything of this world, but not to be taken lightly. He had somehow—stupidly—forgotten this since meeting Io.

Grainne, one of his first lovers, was gone now, as was so much of the world he had known as a child. But until today, her lessons had lingered strongly in his mind and kept him from committing most acts of supreme folly.

Jack didn’t usually spend a lot of time looking back at his past mistakes, but decided that maybe this was the moment for a bit of sober review.

Much of his early life had been lonesome after he turned six. Before that, he had lived very much as any fey child in the United States. He’d gone to school with the other neighborhood children and then come home to the real schooling, where his parents taught him what he needed to know to control the potential magic that grew in him with each passing year, and that would one day—though they could not guess when—blossom into full power. Only when he passed through this
Oicheanta Si
—a faerie’s magic night—would he know if he was of the Twyleth Teg like his half-fey mother, Ciaran, or whether he was his father’s son and an Ankou death fey.

The matter had never worried him, though he knew his mother was concerned about which magic line he inherited. He had loved both parents, and with a child’s faith in the rightness of the universe, he saw nothing to fear in either of their powers.

Then one particular sunny day, when he was outside playing goblins and dragons, his universe was abruptly overturned.

He had been creeping about with a burlap sack stuffed with a sling and rocks, and using extra stealth as he stalked through the bushes because he was planning to beat the evil imaginary goblins to the dragon’s golden hoard and keep the prize for himself. While he stole through the shrubbery, searching for the hidden entrance to the magical lair, he was suddenly disturbed by a faint, painful mewling that he heard with more than his ears.

Diverted from his game by the pained voice, at the edge of the property he pushed through the thick hedge that he was never supposed to cross because of the dangerous road beyond. He emerged from the shrubs at the side of the busy avenue where he found his pet cat, Soot, lying in a bloodied ruin.

Horrified, he had dropped his sack and rushed to her on hands and knees, not feeling the gravel and glass that cut him as he crawled. The moment he touched her bloodied body, he realized that she was going to die, that she was passing out of life even as he held her.

Unable to accept this, he had unconsciously reached inside and found his true magic and tore it out where he could use it. Because he could not accept the loss of his beloved friend, he had kept
her heart beating while he petted her and wept over her mangled body.

His father had appeared soon after. Though not usually demonstrative, the man had put his arms around his son and comforted him, even as he told Jack the hard thing he would have to do.

“She hurts, Jack. She wants to die. You have a great power—a gift that is almost godlike. But the problem is that though it seems divine, it is not. Ours is not the gift of healing. We can decide—quick death or slow, easy or hard—but we can’t stop death when it comes. You only hurt her with this delay. If you love her, son, you must let go. You must stop her heart and let her soul free.”

And because Jack did love Soot, and felt her suffering, he did what was kindest.

That was the last time he had wept, crying out a lifetime of tears as he followed his father’s instructions and stopped the cat’s laboring heart, feeling her tiny soul depart from her battered body.

That was also the last time he had ever loved unreservedly, deciding with his six-year-old heart and mind that he would never let himself be hurt that way again. Never, ever, was he going to be put in a position where he had to hold someone he loved and make the decision that it was the greater kindness to stop their heart.

His mother had offered other pets, but he had refused them. Soon his magic grew stronger than either of his parents had ever expected, and by his
early teens he developed a frightening charisma that attracted the opposite sex. Soon, other half-feys were offering him their hearts and bodies. Though he took the latter, he never touched the former. Never. The subduing of his natural magic during relationships left him isolated, especially in the most intimate of moments, but he didn’t care. He would not be responsible for taking another loved one’s life.

Grainne, older than the others, had understood—but many others had not. Their willingness to love him in spite of his nature was a constant, unknowing trap. And since his desires had a habit of outwitting prudence, instead of settling into a normal existence, he had taken up a career that guaranteed that he would never have the option of wife and family. He kept his affairs with lovers short and superficial, and he stayed on the move so there was no chance of setting down any more roots.

Once his parents were gone, he ruthlessly cut off all ties to the people and places he had known before. And he’d never looked back—not until today.

So what had happened this time? Against all reason and better judgment, he had hooked up with a stubborn half-fey who was bent on personally seeing through a possibly suicidal mission where there truly were things to face that she would believe were worse than death.

His most terrible fear could take place again. He
could end up holding Io in his arms and, out of kindness, stopping her heart.

Jack looked down at Io and the soft pulse fluttering in her delicate throat. She was so soft, so breakable!

And so stubborn.

He shook his head.

“Damn.
Damn, damn, damn.
”

This wasn’t supposed to happen.

Io awoke, noticed the slow rhythm of her lover’s breathing, and curled happily into the warmth of Jack’s body. For years she had lacked this basic pleasure: cuddling with someone in the morning—
or afternoon,
she amended, looking with one eye at the sun’s high position.

Time was short for them, and there were a lot of practical things that needed doing before Halloween. But there were other things just as important, though less sensible, that should be seen to as well. And right now she had the energy to do all that she hadn’t managed earlier, beginning with a leisurely hands-on inspection of Jack’s body.

There were scars on the skin that sheathed those lean muscles. She had seen them with her eyes, but now she let her fingertips examine them one by one—the puckered indentation of a bullet’s graze, a close call with an iron knife, some sort of a magical
burn that left the skin smooth and hairless and snowy white, and of course Jeerith’s ill-fated bit of embroidery. In time Jack’s body would heal these marks completely, but for now they were sobering reminders of the dangerous life he led.

“You have a soft touch for some rough terrain,” he said softly. “I don’t know about your choice of real estate to invest in though. Surely there is something more attractive that would interest you.”

“I was being nosy about your scars,” she confessed, burying her face in his neck. He smelled like Jack and it made her smile.

“I’ve always believed that curiosity is a good thing. Please, don’t let me stifle you.” He sank his fingers into her hair and tugged gently.

Io looked up. Jack’s face was as close as it could be without kissing, but she could still read nothing in his eyes. It was frustrating that he could remain so blankly enigmatic when she was certain that everything she felt was written plainly on her face. She wondered if this emptiness of expression was some trick of the lighting, or if he was deliberately shielding his thoughts from her. And if so, why? What could he be thinking that required such reserve?

She looked him over carefully, assessing his other features. He had a square chin and a jawline that could only be described as firm. His lips were thin, but sensual. And stubborn. His body was at ease but not boneless with relaxation. Jack was still on guard.
He looked hard and reckless and ruthless, ready to take on the world or any part of it that got in his way.

He
didn’t
look like a man on the verge of falling in love, or experiencing any other soft emotions. It was fairly safe to say that he didn’t have flowers and valentines on his mind.

She wanted him anyway. Without promises or softer passions, she wanted to curl up against the warmth of the fire that burned in him and lose herself in the ardor that lived there. And she had a bad feeling that this new want would be with her forevermore.

The thought caused a moment of despair. Was she lost after only one night? Could a fall from grace happen that fast?

“I always know when you’re thinking, but I’m damned if I know
what
. What do I see in your eyes? Desire? Despair? What emotion is riding you now?” he asked, voicing the very questions she wished to ask him.

“Desire,” she answered. “Not really despair, but…”

“But?”

She sighed. “Just make love to me.”

Jack’s mouth crooked up at one corner. “My pleasure. Which shall it be—‘eat me,’ or ‘drink me?’ ”

Once again, his outrageousness saved her from gloom. Io rose onto her knees and carefully shifted herself over Jack’s body. The hammock began to
sway, but not alarmingly. She curled her fingers into the cotton knots of their bedding and lowered herself until their chests met and Jack’s face was going out of focus. Their noses all but touched, their breath mingling.

“Thank you for reminding me. I really do think that this time it should be ‘drink me.’ ”

Jack’s eyebrow rose and she could see that he was getting ready with another smart remark.

“Be a good boy and say it nicely,” she urged with a wicked smile before he could speak. “ ‘Drink me, Io.’ ”

Jack paused, perhaps to think, but didn’t hesitate for long.

“Go ahead. ‘Eat me, drink me, love me to death’—or any other way.”

Io leaned down and touched their lips together, a light graze, no more. Magic would distract her if she lingered, and she wanted this to be a moment purely of the flesh. She began a careful retreat down his body, peeling back covers as she went, rubbing cheek, chin, hair and lips down his torso, the indentation of his navel, all the way to his—

“Jack, is this real, or a spell?”

He laughed even as he stiffened. “I’m hurt that you have to ask.”

“Hurt! Ha! The strongman in the circus couldn’t bend this.”

“That’s fine because I don’t want the strongman to bend it,” he pointed out. His eyes began to gleam.
“You, on the other hand, are welcome to do anything you like.”

“Naughty, naughty,” she chided. But pleased at his light response and willingness to let her take charge when he was so clearly designed to be on top of every situation, she smiled at him before turning her head away.

Jack was abundant, ready, and not resisting.
And for what we are about to receive, let us be truly thankful.

He tasted of salt, of the sea. His flavor mingled with the ever-present magic, which refused to stay politely buried and calm. Io knew that he burned as she suckled, a rare sweat sheening his skin and his breath going immediately ragged.

She burned, too, down to the deepest root on every nerve in her body. But she didn’t hurry. She let her hands and mouth explore, gentle at first and then with longer, slower, firmer touches reaching with fingers where her mouth could not. She was descended from siren feys; she had her own magic to call and knew exactly what she was doing. It wasn’t decent, wasn’t decorous, but it was oh-so-effective when one wanted to tease.

Io watched through slitted eyes as Jack bent his knees and tried to find purchase on the slippery cotton ropes of the hammock, knowing he wanted to quicken the leisurely pace. It was a useless effort and almost made her chuckle. He was helpless and she refused to be rushed.

“Io!”

She hummed an answer.

Jack muttered something under his breath. Io flattened her tongue and pushed him against the roof of her mouth, pressing her lips tight.

“Okay, that is probably enough!” He gasped and his tone grew a little wild. “I don’t think the ‘drink me’ thing is a good idea. Great in theory, but this isn’t enough—Io! Damn it!”

Io finally took pity on him and slid her left hand below, cupping and then stroking upward the root of him. Hammock, or no hammock, Jack managed a splendid back arch that lifted his body and Io’s as the delayed climax rushed up through his body and to an escape.

After a long moment wracked in an incredible posture, he collapsed back into the swaying bed.

Io touched her slightly swollen lips and turned to look at Jack’s face. She climbed back up him.

“You forgot to say thank you,” she teased.

“Tricky little siren fey.” He rolled her beneath his body, shaking his head in mock admonishment. His eyes weren’t blank now; they made her heart roll over. She wasn’t afraid, but Jack looked just a tiny bit dangerous, looming over her. And, of course, he was. That was part of the attraction.

“What a bad girl.” He touched a finger to her inflamed lower lip.

“And I thought I was being good,” she murmured. “I was certain I did that right.”

“You were being a tease.”

“I don’t think, technically speaking, that can be called teasing,” she defended, trying to shift, but being defeated by the weight of Jack’s body and the infirm nature of their bed. “Now, if I’d stopped…But I didn’t.”

“Hm. I’ll let you slide on the technicality, but we both know that you were enjoying tormenting me. I should probably tickle you until you admit what you were doing. I know the backs of your knees are vulnerable. I was paying attention last night in the shower.”

“Well…maybe I enjoyed teasing you to a modest degree. But only a little, and not for so awfully long,” she admitted, flattening her legs as much as she could, but knowing such precautions were useless if Jack did decide to tickle her.

“
Uh-huh.
Even if I give you a pass on this, we are still left with one other bit of unfinished business.” Jack’s right hand slid down her leg, pausing halfway.

“Yes?”

Eat me.

“Jack!”

Io knew that she colored, and the sight made Jack smile. It wasn’t the kindest thing she’d ever seen, and it made her heart beat wildly.

“Um…is this wise in a hammock?” she asked. “I’m pretty sure a chiropractor would advise against it unless both parties are double-jointed.”

“I’m not sure it is even possible, but we’ll see.” Jack’s hand reversed itself.

“Do I have any say in this?” she asked.

“Of course. Say anything you like, but it’s this or the knees.”

She pretended to think for a moment.

“I really hate the knees,” Io confessed.

“I know. I was counting on that.”

Jack smiled as he slid down her body. He didn’t bother trying to keep the magic contained.

“That’s cheating,” Io gasped as her abdominal muscles contracted. “I was merciful and didn’t use magic on you.”

“How foolish of you. Next time you’ll know better,” Jack murmured the words shifting her up the hammock without causing it to sway.

Io could feel his breath on her belly and marveled that he was so close. It didn’t seem possible, but Jack Frost was her lover. He had kissed her, been in her, was planning on—

“Jack!”

“Beg if you want,” he murmured against her thigh. “But I have to warn you that mercy isn’t one of my primary character traits.”

Sparks flew, caught hold of her body and imagination both, and started a fire.

“I’m very ticklish,” she said breathlessly, reaching up behind herself and grabbing the large eyebolt that held the hammock in place. “Be a little rough.”

Jack laughed silently and then pulled her legs over his shoulders.

The hammock never moved, but the world certainly swayed. Io was glad that she had been doing yoga and was flexible. She stared for a moment into Jack’s beautiful eyes and then closed her own against the sight. It was too embarrassing—or would be, when she was back in her right mind—and too intimate.
Was that possible? Being too intimate?

His hands were hot, his breath, too, the instant before he laid his mouth against her. Clever Jack! He found new nerves even as he started her to burn. The fire would have her—yes! Let it burn…

Sweat poured off her body and dampened the cotton, making the knots prickly beneath her. Io’s super-sensitized skin made note of the new stimulation, unsure if it liked it or not.

Jack’s head lifted as he slipped a finger inside her.

“You will tell me when I’m doing this right, won’t you?” he asked, his voice a teasing growl.

It took Io a moment to find the breath to answer him. Passion clogged her throat and stilled her tongue. “You’ll probably be able to tell when—
yes!
” she hissed as he slid a second finger inside. “That’s definitely right.”

She felt him laugh, his amusement another sort of thrilling vibration that sent magic running over her. After that, she had trouble sorting out what was Jack and what was sorcery. Io dropped her arms and clapped hands over her eyes, giving herself to the
fire, no longer caring which was which and what would happen.

Arousal twisted tighter, tighter, tighter—
Jack please!
—until it could wind no more. She would break, die, be torn asunder if she did not escape the rack!

And then finally she broke free. The coil unwound, throwing her into the living, glorious fire. She shuddered against him—beyond her normal emotions, embarrassment, pride, concern, or even fear.

“So, do you need a doctor?” Jack asked, as the last spasms left her body. He carefully slid her boneless limbs off of his shoulders and onto his thighs. He rolled back, facing her from the opposite end of the hammock, his legs dangling on either side. “I know this orthopedist…”

Io pried an eye open and took in his self-satisfied expression. She considered making a bid for a more modest posture, but abandoned the idea immediately. Movement simply wasn’t a possibility yet. Her brain would have to reconnect the dissevered synapses and remember how to make her limbs function.

“I don’t know,” she finally answered. “Ask me again in an hour.”

“You don’t need a nap, do you? That is usually a guy trick—and we get scolded for it.”

“I know it is a postcoital bit of rudeness, but yes.”
Io closed her eyes. “And you can’t blame me. It’s all your fault.”

“Yeah, I know.”

Io made a note to deal with Jack’s smugness later.