Authors: Angela Knight
Master of Smoke (8 page)
Coming.
She writhed beneath him, her legs twining around his, tightening until his bones creaked. His teeth became fangs.
He raced along a forest trail on four big paws, alien trees all around. And she ran beside him, a streak of black wolf fur and flashing fire eyes, tongue lolling between white, white teeth.
Not human. Either of them.
Together. Finally. After so many uncounted centuries of longing.
Together.
FOUR
Eva lay on
the floor with David collapsed on top of her, sweating, panting, listening to their heartbeats slow.
the floor with David collapsed on top of her, sweating, panting, listening to their heartbeats slow.
For a moment as they’d come, she’d seen them running together in some kind of rain forest straight out of
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, surrounded by plants in colors she’d never even imagined. He was a huge cat, a streak of black with silver stripes along his haunches and massive forelegs, his eyes pale as sapphires. And she was in wolf form—a real wolf, not a were, running full out. And she’d felt him in her mind, intelligent and powerful and somehow incredibly
old
. Had it been real? Gathering her courage, she asked, “Did you feel that?”
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, surrounded by plants in colors she’d never even imagined. He was a huge cat, a streak of black with silver stripes along his haunches and massive forelegs, his eyes pale as sapphires. And she was in wolf form—a real wolf, not a were, running full out. And she’d felt him in her mind, intelligent and powerful and somehow incredibly
old
. Had it been real? Gathering her courage, she asked, “Did you feel that?”
Bracing himself on his elbows, David looked down at her with a sound midway between a laugh and a snort. “I felt a great many things.” He grinned and kissed her on the tip of her nose. “All delightful.”
Eva blinked, oddly flustered. Though why she’d find a kiss on the nose more intimate than everything else they’d done, she had no idea.
Maybe it was because the gesture was so sweet and silly—something shared between true lovers, not a pair of strangers scratching a seductive itch. Eva found she liked that about him—that he’d do something that gently goofy. The gesture gave her courage.
Taking a deep breath, she told him about the—vision? dream?—whatever it was. Running through that hyper-real forest together, linked mind to mind. “For a minute there, it felt like we touched.” Her courage almost deserted her, but she managed to get the rest out anyway. “Mentally, I mean. Like in some kind of psychic connection.”
God, that sounded lame.
But David nodded. “Yes, I experienced the same thing.” Absently, he smoothed a lock of hair back from her face, his gaze thoughtful. “We were running in a jungle together, and we were ... happy. You were a wolf, while I was some kind of huge cat. What do you think it means?”
She stared at him. “You’re asking
me
?”
me
?”
“You’re the one with a memory longer than three hours ago.”
“Ah. Good point. I have no idea what it means. I don’t even know if I can really turn into a wolf—the four-legged kind, anyway. Maybe it was just a dream.”
“We could experiment. See if we really can transform into animals.” David yawned hugely and gave her a lazy grin. “Tomorrow. I’m afraid I won’t be good for much more tonight. You’ve exhausted me.” His smile took on a wicked quirk. “Fabulous sex does that.”
Eva’s cheeks flamed. “How do you know it was fabulous if your memory only goes back three hours?”
“Trust me, darling. A man knows.” David leaned down and kissed her, but this was no affectionate peck on the nose. He took his time with it, conducting a deliciously lazy exploration, with tongue and teeth and male sensuality so intense her head spun.
Amnesia victim or not, the man knew how to use his mouth. And his tongue. And his hands.
And his truly incredible dick,
added Fluffy, sounding sated and smug.
added Fluffy, sounding sated and smug.
For once, Eva agreed with her.
Tristan trailed Belle
to her house on the outskirts of Avalon, bitching all the way. It was a modest place by the standards of the magical city: three stories of gray fieldstone with a slate roof, arched windows and doorways, and a courtyard planted with orchids.
to her house on the outskirts of Avalon, bitching all the way. It was a modest place by the standards of the magical city: three stories of gray fieldstone with a slate roof, arched windows and doorways, and a courtyard planted with orchids.
The master bedroom sprawled across most of the second floor. The furniture was dark cherry, intricately carved in a whimsical tangle of ivy and honeysuckle. Fairies, dragons, and unicorns lurked among the leaves—here a sinuous tail, there a tiny face framed by gossamer wings, over there a proudly lifted horned head. She’d spent more raw magic on the canopied bed alone than most social-climbing witches blew on entire mansions.
Tristan stopped complaining for ten whole minutes while he contemplated the furniture. His brows flew up. “Creating all this must have knocked you on your ass for a week.”
“Pretty much,” she admitted cheerfully.
“You magic these, too?” He toed one of the colorful rag rugs scattered on the gleaming pine floor.
“Nope. Made ’em by hand.” Unable to resist displaying her handiwork, Belle pointed at the thickly embroidered bedspread with its dragons and fairies in countless shades of silken thread. “The quilt, too. Took me four months.” And she’d relished every stitch.
Some tasks are too important to the soul for shortcuts.
Tristan grunted as Belle started for her dresser to begin packing.
“It’s not going to work.” With narrow green eyes he watched her pull out a drawer. His seductive mouth drew into a tight frown. “You don’t like me.”
“I’m a professional. I don’t have to like you.” She found the huge .45 pistol, pulled it out of its holster, and checked to make sure it was unloaded. Satisfied, she slid it back into the holster and tucked it into her Louis Vuitton pilot case. Then under Tristan’s glower she added a box of bullets and a couple of spare clips.
“You’re a witch. What do you need a gun for?” He braced his hands on his hips. His shoulders looked ridiculously wide beneath the blue knit shirt he wore.
She gave him the look that comment deserved. “Magic doesn’t work on Dire Wolves. As you damned well know.”
“Which is why
I’ll
have a gun.”
I’ll
have a gun.”
Belle stopped in the act of picking out a selection of shirts to take. “So, what? I’m supposed to stand there with my thumb up my butt while you fight giant vampire-eating werewolves?”
“Why not? You spend most of your time with something stuffed in some part of your anatomy. I’m told you do your best work that way.”
Belle imagined how he’d look after she hit him with a fireball: singed and blinking. It was such a satisfying fantasy she mentally added a curl of smoke from his nose. “You’re deliberately being a jackass.”
“I do that. It’s why nobody wants to work with me.” He glowered and folded his arms. His biceps appeared as round and firm as cantaloupes beneath his tanned skin. If he would only shut up, he’d make good scenery.
She considered conjuring a ball gag and stuffing it into that tempting mouth. “You do realize that if I bow out, no witch will work with you. Which will seriously crimp your werewolf hunt.”
“I’ll manage.”
She smiled at him sweetly. “Then go to Morgana and ask her to rescind my assignment.”
A muscle flexed in his angular jaw. “Morgana doesn’t change her mind. She’s worse than Arthur.”
“Then it would appear you’re stuck with me.” Belle strolled into the walk-in closet and considered the selection of pants. She didn’t find anything that looked suitable, so she conjured a few pairs in various shades and walked back into the bedroom with them.
“Leather?” Tristan looked like a man sucking on a lemon. “You’re packing
leather pants
?”
leather pants
?”
“They hold up better in a fight.” She bared her teeth at him. “And they make my ass look fabulous.” Just to piss him off, she conjured a pair of black boots with stiletto heels. No way could she fight in them, but he didn’t need to know that.
When his nostrils flared, she added tight leather tops to match, each with a neckline plunging halfway to the navel. Then she threw in a corset, just to watch him turn purple.
“Look, I’m going to be going up against
Dire Wolves
.” He stalked over to her, the better to loom. “We’re talking at least seven feet tall, with fangs, claws, and a tendency to disembowel people. And they shrug off magical lightning bolts like snowballs. You won’t stand a chance.”
Dire Wolves
.” He stalked over to her, the better to loom. “We’re talking at least seven feet tall, with fangs, claws, and a tendency to disembowel people. And they shrug off magical lightning bolts like snowballs. You won’t stand a chance.”
“I’m touched by your concern for my well-being.” She gave him a smile sweet enough to give cavities to an entire dentists’ convention. “I had no idea you cared.”
“I don’t. I just don’t want to get killed trying to keep your hapless ass alive.”
The hapless thing stung. “You won’t. I can take care of myself.”
“With what? That ridiculous cap gun?” He pointed a contemptuous finger at her pilot case and its pistol. “All bullets do to werewolves is piss them off.”
Belle marched over to the corner, picked up the long bag lying there, and tossed it on the bed with a leaden thump. Unzipping it, she drew out a five-foot great sword, admiring the way the massive weapon gleamed in the firelight with lethal grace. If it hadn’t been enchanted, she wouldn’t have been able to lift it. “Actually, I figured this would do a pretty good job of discouraging anybody the gun didn’t.”
Narrow-eyed, he considered the weapon. “Do you even know how to use that thing?”
That qualified as “asking for it.” She swung the sword in a flat, hard arc, stopping it a fraction of an inch from his throat.
Tristan raised an eyebrow over the gleaming length of the blade. “I repeat, do you know how to use that thing?”
“I’ve used it rather effectively before.” She glared at him. “And I’m strongly considering using it now.”
“I’ve got a better idea. Why don’t you go find some pretty Latent boy and fuck him into the Gift? It would be so much more pleasant for all concerned.”
“Tristan, I’m not really interested in making
anything
pleasant for you.”
anything
pleasant for you.”
“Yes,” he gritted, “I noticed.”
Eva had no
idea how long she lay on the floor with David, a heap of dazed, exhausted flesh. At last she managed speech. “We really need to get up.”
idea how long she lay on the floor with David, a heap of dazed, exhausted flesh. At last she managed speech. “We really need to get up.”
“Yes.” He blinked at the ceiling. “The floor is very hard.”
“And I’ve got this bed. It’d be a hell of a lot more comfortable.”
“It would have to be.” He sighed and rolled to his feet, lithe as the cat she’d dreamed about. Reaching down to take her hand, he helped her to her feet.
For about two seconds, she considered showing him to the guest room, but that would be like closing the barn door after the horse won the Kentucky Derby. Instead, she led the way to her own bedroom, flipped back the covers, and crawled between them as he joined her.
He pulled her into his arms and curled his big body around her like a boy with a teddy bear.
Lying on her side, her head pillowed on his brawny biceps, Eva felt surrounded by him—not just the muscular power of his body, but the in-and-out puff of his breath on her cheek. A thick lock of his long hair lay across her face, mixing with her own chocolate strands. It felt ... good. She hadn’t slept with a man since she’d broken up with Joel. Being what she was, her nightmares could have ugly consequences for the man in her bed. Luckily, tonight had proved that David could take care of himself. It was safe to cuddle into him and drift off to sleep.
Dreams would do no harm tonight.
He ran with her through the rain forest, his big paws thudding over the ground as she raced at his side. He’d never felt such pure joy.
Shooting through a tangle of brush, David plunged into a tendril of mist on the other side. The mist instantly thickened, going as impenetrably dark as a burning house. He skidded to a stop, afraid of colliding head-on with a tree.
He listened to his breathing rasp in the blackness until it suddenly melted away. He was human again.
Carnage surrounded him.
Corpses lay sprawled among blazing huts, bodies twisted, horribly burned. Men, women, children, orbited by clouds of flies. Crows hopped among the bodies, pecking at flesh, cawing and squabbling and plucking out eyes.
He turned in a slow, horrified circle. Grief tore at him, sharp as a vulture’s beak. He knew these people. They weren’t random victims of a horrible disaster. They were friends, relatives, brothers, sisters, nieces, and nephews.
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