Circle of Fire (Damask Circle 1)

Eyes still closed, he reached down and clasped her hand. Cold metal met his touch, and he realized she was still wearing his ring. He smiled and gently squeezed her fingers. “The leg’s just fine.” But as he’d suspected, the heart was an entirely different matter.

She turned toward him. He shifted his arm, pulling her in close. Her sigh whispered across his chest and stirred an ache deep inside him.

He kissed the top of her hair and stared into the darkness, listening to her breathing grow quieter. He was a fool—a fool who now had a huge problem on his hands.

Could he really let her walk out of his life in the morning?

A PERSISTENT NOISE WOKE MADDIE SOMETIME LATER. Heart pounding in fright, she lay in the warm security of Jon’s arms and listened. After a minute she realized it was simply a loose piece of roofing banging in the wind.

How often had she lain in her own bed listening to that same awful noise? And how often had she hoped it was an intruder, simply because it would have provided a brief respite from the intense loneliness of her life? Far too often, she thought grimly. It was odd how the isolation she’d so desperately needed after Brian’s death had quickly turned into a prison from which she feared to break free.

In many ways, that fear still held her. But at least Jon had shown her it was possible to control her gifts and put them to good use. It was up to her now to find the courage to break free from her self-imposed exile.

She sighed softly and ran her hand across the warm plane of his muscular stomach. Meeting him had also shown her just how deeply she missed having someone to share the highs and lows of life with. And yet she’d been something less than honest in her admission earlier. She didn’t want just anyone to love her. She wanted him.

But that was likely a hopeless dream.

She bit her lip against the sudden sting of tears. Part of her wanted to fight his decision, to try to make him stay. His touch and his eyes told her he loved her, even if he would never admit it. But she might as well try to restrain the wind. As much as he might love her, he loved his work more. He didn’t want to give it up, and he didn’t want her to be a part of it.

If she stayed, or tried to make him stay, she would end up hating herself as much as he’d end up hating her. Better to walk away now.

He stirred slightly, his fingers running across hers and squeezing them gently. “You okay?”

&n

bsp; His voice was blurred with sleep, yet she could hear the concern in it. “Fine,” she whispered. “Just got to go to the bathroom.”

She moved away from his touch, her feet brushing against the clothes she’d stripped off earlier. She bent down to collect them, then swiftly padded to the bathroom.

Once she’d shut the door, she turned on the light and quickly donned her T-shirt and panties. The night was icy, yet the bathroom seemed abnormally hot. She glanced across to the window. It was locked, as Jon had said, yet a fine haze of rain seemed to be misting in through the small gap between the frame and the window, and it weirdly made the heat in the room more intense. Frowning, she grabbed a towel and moved closer to the window. It might not help dissipate the heat, but it would stop the mist from seeping in …

“I wouldn’t bother, my dear,” a harsh voice whispered behind her. “A towel isn’t going to provide much of an impediment to my departure.”

Heart leaping in fright, Maddie jerked around. Ebony smoke curled lazily from the shower and formed the shape of a woman. Eleanor.

Impossible! Maddie wanted to scream, only her voice seemed frozen to the back of her throat. She licked her lips and slowly backed away, fingers trembling as she reached for the door. Jon was half awake—if she flung it open hard enough, he’d surely come running …

Eleanor made a quick motion with her hand, and the ice encasing Maddie’s throat settled across her limbs. She couldn’t move; she couldn’t scream. She could only watch as Eleanor glided toward her with unnatural grace.

“Don’t we just smell like a bitch in heat.” Though Eleanor’s soft voice held a hint of amusement, malice twisted her face—a face that suddenly looked sharp and old. “I do hope you enjoyed yourself, my dear. It’s probably the last time that you ever will.”

She reached up and ran a needlelike fingernail down Maddie’s cheek. It might as well have been a knife. It cut deep and tears stung Maddie’s eyes, but she could do little more than flinch and blink them away. Yet deep in her soul, the fires flickered to life.

“He should never have killed Hank,” Eleanor went on, almost conversationally. “It took me a long time to find a man like him, someone trainable but with half a brain. Now I’ll have to start all over again.”

Maddie stared at her. The woman had to be mad—or very, very sure of her own abilities. Despite Jon’s presence in the next room, Eleanor was making no attempt to speak quietly. Surely he would hear and come running …

As if reading her thoughts, Eleanor laughed. It was a high, insane sound that lashed at Maddie’s ears and made every nerve ending quiver in fright.

“He can’t hear a thing. My little fog is swallowing any sound we make.”

Maddie blinked, suddenly realizing the fine mist of rain she’d noticed earlier had thickened to become a barrier near the door. Jon wouldn’t hear her, couldn’t save her. Fear spurted through her body. She closed her eyes, trying to calm the panic. She wasn’t entirely helpless, as Brian had found out.

And she didn’t have to move to unleash her fire.

Watching Eleanor carefully, she reached deep down into that dark place in her soul where the flames lurked.

Eleanor’s gaze narrowed, as if she sensed something was happening. “But enough talk. There is much I have yet to do, traps I must arrange.”