Shatter the Earth (Cassandra Palmer 10)

I shook my head. And then I thought about it. Had I had a nightmare? Was that all this was—a bad dream that had lingered a bit too long?

God, wouldn’t that be wonderful?

“Cassie—”

“I don’t know,” I said, swallowing. “I’m not sure.”

Pritkin grabbed the old-fashioned lamp off the little table and squatted down in front of me. He was wearing boxers, despite the fact that he usually slept in the nude, because it had become a habit after we were interrupted several times at court. The pose showed off the thick muscles of his thighs, the taut stomach and the sculpted, naked chest above. Pritkin kept himself in tip top shape, both because it was expected from members of the Corps, and because he’d had to do without the magical boost from his incubus half, once he’d decided to limit its scope, leaving him feeling vulnerable.

He didn’t look vulnerable right now. He looked like he could take on an army all by himself, especially with the lamplight highlighting all those fascinating dips and bulges, and gilding the blond hair on his legs, chest and jaw. He also looked vaguely fey for once, with a slight tilt to the eyes and a faint elfin quality to the way the jaw blended into the ears.

How had I never noticed that before? I wondered. He was far too muscular for a fey, but there were hints, here and there, if you paid attention. Especially kneeling in a puddle of lamplight, as if casting one of their light shadows . . .

“Cassie,” Pritkin caught my hand.

I vaguely realized that I’d been using it to smooth over the thick shoulders and down the powerful arms, lost in admiration. I still sort of felt that way, watching the golden light dance in his hair, which was tousled from sleep. It felt almost like I’d been drugged. . .

“Shit,” I said, and looked into green eyes that were sharp, clear and aware—for the moment. “We have a problem.”

“What problem?” Pritkin’s eyes flicked around the room, and his weapons followed suit, guns and knives and fat potion bombs poking their nonexistent noses into closets, the bathroom and under the bed.

But, of course, they didn’t find anything.

The problem was right here.

I opened my mouth to explain, but nothing came out except for a small groan. And, once my hand smoothed down his chest, grasping hard pecs and soft hair, that changed into something very close to a whimper. I leaned in to kiss his neck, sliding my lips along the strong cords there, sucking on his Adam’s apple, until strong hands grabbed my shoulders and thrust me away.

“What’s wrong? What’s happening?”

I wish I knew, I thought. But it was hard to concentrate on the question with him right there. So strong, so warm, so—

“Cassie!” he said, and then he didn’t say anything, because I was kissing him.

No, I was kissing him, wrapping my arms around his neck, pressing my breasts against his chest, tonguing the inside of his mouth, which had been open to say something, but which was now otherwise occupied. Because whatever was wrong with me appeared to have passed to him. His arms had just gone around me and he was deepening the kiss better than I’d been able to do. Far better, I thought, groaning again, and leaning into it.

I vaguely heard his weapons fall to the floor, including one of the guns that went off and shot a chair leg or something. But it was distant, unimportant. Everything was, except for this.

Pritkin broke away and cursed again, but it was an urgent, desperate sound, like he was fighting a battle he already knew he’d lose. I didn’t know what to do, didn’t fully understand the struggle going on within him. So, I tried to do nothing, but that didn’t work too well with something powerful building between us.

And then we kissed again, tumbling back onto the bed, and it caught, as it hadn’t since that night in Wales. Not just sex, demon-assisted, but full on demon sex. And okay, no, I thought, panicking, even as the fire flashed from me and into Pritkin.

“No,” he echoed my sentiment aloud, seeming dazed, even as his hand skimmed down my thigh, pulling me into position. “No!”

I agreed. The feedback loop was extremely dangerous, as Pritkin’s wife had discovered to her cost. But it was even more so with me. She hadn’t had much power to feed into it.

I did.

Because the only other time this had happened, Pritkin’s incubus hadn’t drawn from my own paltry strength. It had gone straight for the Pythian power, magnifying it many times over before feeding it back to me. It was how we’d once generated enough energy to defeat a god. But there were no gods here, and that included the two of us.

We couldn’t hold on to that much raw power, and if we tried . . .

It would burn us al

ive.

Chapter Forty

My brain and body were having a serious disconnect. My brain was shouting warnings, but my body wasn’t listening. My body was busy grabbing the back of Pritkin’s neck, dragging him down, drawing him further inside. The new angle made him growl and I swear I could feel it all the way to my toes.