Lightning Game (GhostWalkers 17)

“It would be such a shame to lose all this to logging or mining,” she said. “I’ve been going off trail to sketch some of the plants, and you’ve got some very rare species here, ones I’m certain have healing properties.”

He nodded. “I’m sure you’re right. My mother used to go out into the woods when the neighbors were ill and she’d find certain plants. She’d use the flowers or the roots. Sometimes she’d make tea or some other concoction. I remember my father laughing and saying she was making a witch’s brew in her cauldron. That was sacrilegious. You were never supposed to make comments like that, but she laughed. When he was alive, she laughed all the time.”

Jonquille glanced at him sharply. He sounded sad. She wished she could ask if he would allow her to draw him. She’d be embarrassed, but it would be worth it. She wanted to take a little bit of him with her when she had to go—and she had to go. She had a little time. There wasn’t much, but some. She could take time and be with him before she went hunting, and she intended to hunt his enemies. Just because he showed up early didn’t mean her plan wasn’t solid. Now, after meeting him, she knew she was going to go through with it. Rubin Campo was too good of a man to let die. He would fight until his last breath, and she wasn’t going to take any chances with his life.

“I didn’t bring as many sketch pads as I should have,” Jonquille admitted. “I only brought a few because I didn’t think I’d be here that long and I don’t like to carry extra weight.”

He glanced at her as they walked a few feet in silence. Light was beginning to streak through the leaves of the canopy overhead, creating a theatrical effect. The early morning sun sent bizarre patterns spilling onto the forest floor. Rubin’s eyes were so dark they looked like twin chips of black obsidian, weighing her truths against the lies she mixed in. That velvet gaze drifted over her face like the touch of fingers, bringing up the inevitable goose bumps.

Jonquille had no idea how he did that. He wasn’t physically touching her, yet she felt as if he might be. It was just as well they weren’t going to be partners, because if they had arguments, all he would have to do was look at her like that and she’d blurt out everything he’d want to know immediately.

“Jonquille.” Even her name was a caress.

“I thought you said you didn’t have relationships with women.” She glared at him, narrowing her eyes belligerently. Maybe the only thing to do when she was alone with him was pick a fight. Push him away.

He stopped walking and turned, towering over her. She’d forgotten about their height difference. The uneven ground and his gentle demeanor had given her a false sense of security. Now he smoothly cut off her retreat. He looked down at her, his head tilted to one side, that dark gaze of his like a black velvet cloth moving over her skin in a slow perusal. He reached out and tucked a wild strand of her blond hair behind her ear. The pads of his fingertips shaping the tops of her ears sent tingles down her spine.

“I don’t have relationships with women. You’re my first one. Am I already making mistakes? What am I doing to upset you?” His gaze dropped to her mouth.

The moment he looked at her mouth, her mind went straight to the kiss. She couldn’t help it. The sun was lighting up the forest floor. She was afraid if she kept looking at his mouth—and she couldn’t pull her gaze away—she would be lighting up the entire forest because she was going to wrap her body around his and kiss him like there was no tomorrow. For her there wasn’t one. So the hell with it.

Jonquille made the first move, stepping into him, close, going up onto her toes, wrapping her arms around his neck, one leg wrapping around his leg. She pulled his head down to hers. She didn’t know what to expect. Rejection maybe. Anything but what she got. His lips were gentle, even tender, as they brushed across hers. There was no hesitation on his part. None. He tempted her further with little kisses along her lips.

Her stomach did a slow somersault, and she swore a million fireflies took wing all at once, sparking and dancing against her insides. His tongue teased the seam of her lips, and then his teeth bit down very gently on her lower lip. She opened to him and her entire world shifted. Tears burned behind her eyes. Her heart ached. This man. This one man. There truly was no one like him in the world. He treated her with such respect and gentleness. With tenderness. He gave her things no one in her life had ever given her.