The Arcana Chronicles 3: Dead of Winter

He groaned with pleasure—and relief?

I melted from the heat of his body against mine, trying to breathe him into me. We’d only been together once. We deserved another time like our first. He deserved to feel at peace afterward.

What was to stop us . . . ?

Death. What I’d done with Aric. To Aric.

Somehow I managed to draw back. “I have to talk to you.” I would explain, make him understand.

He leaned in, pressing kisses to my neck in his toe-curling way. “I missed you, Evangeline. So goddamned much. When you wanted nothing to do with me . . .” He gave a shuddering exhalation against my damp skin. “Thought I’d go mad, me.”

More kisses, more heat, more confusion.

This time with him felt momentous, as if I were about to step onto a path I could never leave.

Path?

“Ah, honeysuckle.” He loosened his grip from my hair. “You missed me too, peekôn.” He laid his hands on either side of my neck, tilting my head up with his thumbs so our gazes met. “I’d do it all over to have you back.”

He would allow himself to be tortured and branded just to be with me? “Jack . . .”

He took my lips again. Before I knew it, we’d gone tripping to his cot, and his body felt so right covering mine, his lean hips between my thighs.

Between kisses, he murmured, “Douce comme du miel.” Sweet like honey. His voice was smoldering.

“I . . . I . . .” Couldn’t grasp what I’d been about to say. Too busy helping him remove my shirt?

My glyphs shimmered wildly, lighting the tent more than the fire. His big rough hands covered my breasts, squeezing, heating my flesh through my silk bra. I cried out, bowing my back for more. When I rubbed against his palms, he gave a husky groan that sent shivers all over me.

He leaned down, kissing my neck to my chest, following the movements of my glyphs. Between my breasts. Across them. “You belong to me, Evangeline.” Kiss. “With me.” Flick of his tongue. “And I belong to you.” He took one of my hands, entwining his fingers with mine, gazing up at my face. “Think about you so damned much, about this. Je t’aime. I love you. Always will.”

I glanced away from his heartbreaking face. “But I have to tell you . . .” I trailed off.

A weird alertness spiked inside me. My heart had been racing before. Now it pounded because something was wrong. Something was coming.

Someone.

I pressed Jack away, rising to my feet.

“What is it?” he asked. “I was moving too fast? We can go slower.”

“It isn’t you.” I pulled my shirt back on. “I’ve got to see about something.”

“Where you goan? I’m coming with you.”

“No!” I whirled around with my hand up. “Will you just wait here? Please, for once.” I left him sitting with a confounded look on his face.

Outside, a dense fog bank had rolled in, the night like a chamber with all the air sucked out of it. As I walked from the tent, I felt out of body, floating toward an inevitable drop-off.

I peered through the fog. Matthew awaited near the gates. They were already open?

My stomach lurched. What had he done?

Through the murk, an outline of a rider emerged, dressed in black armor.

Death was here. He’d gotten past the minefield, inside the wall!

And I had no idea what he would do.

My glyphs shimmered for a completely different reason, reflecting off the mist. I clawed my palms and seeded protection, vines slowly rising up to flank me. Too slowly. With no sun, I hadn’t recharged from my last battle!

As he neared, the details of his appearance grew clearer. His close-fitting armor outlined his broad shoulders, his muscular legs and arms. He rode tall and proud—so noble astride his ghostly red-eyed stallion.

When my vines twined toward the sky, Death’s gaze landed on me.

His eyes began to glow. Like my glyphs, his glowing eyes indicated high emotion—or aggression.

Light was spilling through the grille of his menacing helmet.

Fog embraced us as that last night with him washed over me. . . .

When we reached the edge of his bed, I tried once more to talk him out of this. “Please, think about what you’re doing! You’re coercing me to sleep with you. How can you be right with that?”

He gripped my waist and lifted me with ease, laying me on his bed. Though his palms were sword-roughened, his fingers were elegant, reverent. “It’s more than merely bedding you. If you surrender to me, you will be mine alone. My wife in truth. I will do anything to have that. Anything to have you.”

When he followed me down, my hands pressed against his bare, tattooed chest. Those black slashing marks told our story, a constant reminder for him never to trust me. But I’d earned his trust.

Was I about to break it again? “Just let me go, Aric. Let me leave this place. I vow I’ll come back.”

“Never, little wife. I’ll never let you go.”

My lids grew heavy when his muscles moved beneath my palms. His scent—sandalwood, pine, masculine—weakened my will like a drug, quelling the heat of battle inside me. Still I managed to say: “This won’t work out as you plan.”

“Won’t it?” He smoothed my hair behind my ear. “I believe any outcome will be better than losing the sole woman on earth I can be with. The one that I now love. That’s a fairly steep downside.”

Love. “I won’t necessarily be lost. But if you do this, I will be.”

His lips curled. So sensual, so gorgeous. He knew how much he was affecting me. “With enough time, I can coax you from your anger. I did once before.”

His head inched closer, amber eyes intent.

Resist him, resist . . .

He took my mouth with his, muddling my thoughts, making me forget all the things I needed to remember. He deepened the contact until our tongues met. With each of his wicked flicks, my body arched to his, as if he were in control of it.

Though he didn’t speak, he was still communicating with me through his kiss. He was reminding me that he’d never free me. He was telling me to accept him.

To surrender.

I could so easily get lost in this man, in what he offered. When I moaned, he drew back, his lids hooded. “There. That’s better.” He began removing my clothes with his supernatural speed. “Just let me see you . . . touch you.”

Once he’d stripped me of everything but my panties, he stared at my body, eagerness stamped in every tense line of his. “Empress . . .” he groaned, leaning down to lavish kisses all over my breasts, those elegant fingers kneading me.