Hearts Cursed, page 8
But what the Hells was she supposed to do about this glow? She couldn’t work like this!
She stood there, sucking in deep breaths, trying to calm herself, to push the glow back inside. It took longer than it ever had before, but finally it faded and disappeared.
She blew out a breath. Hells, she needed a coffee now more than ever.
Trembling, she headed to the library’s kitchenette and flipped the kettle on. There was no lovely coffee machine down here, but they did have instant coffee, which was nowhere as good but would do in a pinch if it was strong and sweet enough.
Then she’d turn her attention to trying to find where in the Hells Korinna’s long-lost father was. Not only did she want to help Korinna, finding him was the only way she was going to be able to move on. And she seriously needed to do that – sooner rather than later.
She flicked the kettle on, got out a mug and added four heaped teaspoons of instant. And even though she would never usually sully a good coffee with sugar, she put in an equal number of teaspoons of sugar to balance out the bitterness.
As she put the sugar back on the shelf, there was a thump from the stacks just behind her.
She spun around, hands out, magic sparking on her fingertips, ready to fight off the ghosts. “Stupid, Ilia. You need to get your shields up.”
But no ghosts appeared and the only sound she heard was a rustling coming from the Black Magic and Dangerous Books section.
She let out a trembling breath and lowered her hands. As she did, she noticed a book lying on the ground in front of the nearest stacks.
“Well, hello. You weren’t there before.”
She walked closer. There wasn’t a gap in the shelves where it might have fallen from. So where had it come from? Had one of the ghosts dropped it there as an apology? But then, why not stick around so she knew?
Or was this another of the mysterious texts that just suddenly appeared here? Was this another piece of ‘help’ from Demeter?
Glancing up at the ceiling she said, “It better be helpful this time.” Then slowly, carefully, she picked it up and turned it over.
The cover was dark green, the lettering on the front so faded she couldn’t make it out. Magic buzzed in her fingertips; more magic than she’d previously felt in any of the books here, except for ones that were locked up.
“Shit.” This wasn’t something Demeter had found and brought to them. She knew well the feeling attached to this book. It was from the Black Magic and Dangerous Books section.
But how had it got out and landed here? The ghosts couldn’t have brought it to her as they couldn’t go inside that room. And it wasn’t likely that Demeter would bring her a book of dark magic. So what had dropped it here for her to see?
Biting her lip, she wondered what she should do. Something was urging her to open it up, but that was a stupid thing to do without anyone else here to help if something went wrong. The last time a book had opened of its own accord from the lock up, it had taken both Korinna and Tamuel to capture the entity inside it and push it back in the book and lock it away. With her magic still being so unfamiliar, she was no match for whatever lay inside.
Gingerly, she placed it on the table. She had to go back upstairs and get Korinna and Tamuel at least. Hopefully she wouldn’t walk in on more lovey-doviness, although there was nothing she could do to avoid the Christmas joy.
She rolled her eyes. She really wasn’t in the mood, but did she have a choice?
She’d taken two steps when a wind whipped around her, pushing her back towards the table. She stumbled, turning to catch herself on the table’s edge before she fell. “What the Hells?”
She tried to push upright but the wind didn’t let up, curving around her like arms to keep her there no matter how much she struggled against it.
Before her, the cover of the book flipped open, the pages fluttering up and over. Then just as suddenly as it came, the wind was gone and the book stilled.
On the open page was a picture.
Of a face she recognised.
Underneath, the confirmation she needed. A name. Triptolemus.
Without meaning to, she reached out to touch the edge of his strong chin.
And fell into a vision.
Chapter
Nine
The world swung around Ilia as she fell. Bile rose in her throat. Her heart beat fast and hard in her chest; her breath was a tight pain that couldn’t seem to get out, not even in a scream.
She closed her eyes. Then, as quickly as it had started, the falling, spinning stopped.
There was no jolt as she steadied, although she appeared to be standing upright. On a firm surface.
She opened her eyes.
And there he was – the man she now knew to be Triptolemus.
He stood before her, much as he’d been when she’d first seen him in the vision.
Except this time, he wasn’t injured and he was standing.
To full attention.
In every sense of the word.
A fact she immediately noticed because he was stark naked. Every single inch of his tanned and muscled body on full and delicious display.
If that wasn’t hot enough, he smiled, a sexy smile that touched her in all the right places. A smile that was more wicked and enticing than anything she’d ever seen.
In fact, she felt that smile in every nerve and sinew in a way she’d never experienced before, even with Mars. And it was overwhelming.
Heat flared over her, through her and there was a sudden flood of wetness right in that most sex-starved part of her.
Gods, he was sex on a stick. Just plain lickable.
She wanted to fan herself but didn’t seem to have control over her limbs. In fact, all she seemed capable of right now was to stare at him, every part of her unbearably itchy and hot and needy.
So needy.
His smile widened as his gaze roved over her, hunger flaring in his eyes. And amusement. “You’re dressed differently this time.”
“This time?”
He gestured at her, his cock flexing. “No Roman gown with clips.” He touched his shoulder and suddenly all she wanted to do was run her hand over that firm breadth of skin and feel the warm silk of it, the strength of muscle beneath. And lick it.
See. Definitely lickable.
She roped her wandering thoughts back in, forcing herself to concentrate on this strange conversation, so unlike any she’d had in previous dreams. “I’m all out of Roman gowns with clips.”
“Pity. I did like how they … draped.”
Yea Gods! That pause.
It did things to her insides that shouldn’t be possible. But that pause brought to mind all the dreams she’d had lately of her undoing clips on a gown she barely took notice of as she reached for him, baring herself to him as he was bared to her now. “They did … drape nicely.”
“Hmm. I think I almost prefer this though.” His smile widened even further and he waggled his brows at her. “Do they flop when you walk?”
What? Then she noticed his gaze had dropped to her feet. Hers followed and she almost groaned.
Bunny slippers!
Why was she wearing bunny slippers in this vision? Sure, she had slipped them on this morning after tugging on her shorts and t-shirt before dragging herself downstairs and enduring that disastrous conversation in the kitchen. But never before had she worn her actual clothes in a vision. She’d always been draped in something distinctly closer to what she’d worn when she’d been alive the first time.
But this time, it was green shorts, a bright pink t-shirt and her purple bunny slippers.
Sexy … not!
She shifted. The ears flopped around.
Triptolemus chuckled.
Her knees wobbled at the husky wisp of sound. It wrapped around her, vibrated through her, caressed every erogenous zone on the way, leaving her tingling and even more needy.
“I never knew how sexy bunnies could be,” Triptolemus said, voice still a low, aching rasp that made her nerves tremble and her nipples peak so hard she was certain they were very visible now through bra and t-shirt.
“Sexy?”
“Oh Gods yes. And who knew I was a leg man?”
She stared down – thank everything holy she’d shaved her legs that morning in the shower. “You are?” This was the strangest vision.
“Oh yes. Prior to this, I would have said I was all about your breasts, but looking at your legs in those short little shorts, capped off with those bunny slippers …” He licked his lips. “Oh Hells yes. I’m a leg man.”
Her gaze went to his legs – thick, muscled thighs and defined calves dusted with dark hair over sun-kissed skin, narrow ankles, large shapely feet. “I find I’m rather partial to legs too.” Her gaze roved back up, arrowing in on his thick erection. “I’m also rather partial to other things.”
His erection flexed, brushing against the six-pack he sported. “All hail other things! I have to admit, this ‘other thing’ is rather partial to ‘other things’ as well.”
Her gaze flew up to find his roving over her once again, finally coming to meet her eyes.
The impact stole her breath.
“You have the most extraordinary eyes. They’re like the velvet dark of night kissed by the dawn.”
Oh! What a thing to say. Her heart squeezed and warmed in a way that felt like she was melting. In a good way. In the best way.
“And your hair? It’s been dawn-touched too. Like the rays of sun whispering over the hills, lighting the sky with gold and lilac and peach. And so silky-looking, I just want to wrap my hands in it and find out if it feels as soft as it looks. If it’s cool or warm.”
Her heart did that thing again, squeezing and warming in a way that would have worried her if not for the fact that other things were squeezing and warming. She never knew words could be so sexually powerful. She swallowed hard, touched her hair, fingers sliding through the lock falling over her shoulder. “I was going to cut it short.”
“Oh no. Never do that. It’s perfect the way it is. Glorious. In fact, it shines like a halo in the sun. You’re like an angel. My Christmas angel.”
“Pfft.” She waved away the idea. “I’m simply a woman.”
He let out an unsteady breath. “Nothing simple about you.” He took in another breath, his muscled chest expanding, his tanned skin glowing in the strange light of this place. “Did you know you glow?”
Her lips twitched. “You’re a poet and you don’t know it?”
He laughed, the sound a brilliant burst around her, doing much the same as his chuckle had done earlier. She wanted to wrap herself in that laugh, in the warmth and joy of it.
In her long, long life, that kind of joy and warmth had been non-existent.
His laughter died when she didn’t join him, didn’t even smile. His gaze met hers again, the hunger intensifying in the depths of his brilliant, spring-green eyes. “I’m serious. You actually glow.”
“It’s the light of this place.” She gestured around them at the garden they were in. The garden he’d created with his blood. “It’s different here. You’re glowing too.”
He looked down at himself, raising his arms, turning them over. “No. My skin is simply reflecting the light. The glow in you comes from within. I noticed it the first time I saw you. And every time since.”
Every time since?
Was he talking about the dreams? But that wasn’t possible. They’d been her dreams. Not visions. Not astral travel or whatever this was. Just hot, wet, sexy dreams – more fantasy than dream – that she couldn’t seem to shake no matter how much she tried.
So, how had he seen them too?
She wanted to ask, but he got in first by asking, “So, my Christmas angel, do you have a name?”
“Ilia.”
His brow quirked. “Ilia.” He said her name like he was breathing it in, tasting it, and the sensation pleased him. “So, Ilia. How is it you glow if you’re not an angel?”
“I was brought into this life with an ancient spell at dawn with magic that was Goddess-given by Ostara.” She had no idea why she’d told him that, but the words just tumbled out.
He nodded. “Makes sense. The first time I saw you it was like I saw the sun’s rays at dawn after being stuck in the dark all my life.”
Again with the words. He was good with the words.
Damn him.
It was doing something to her that she didn’t think she liked, but was powerless to stop. Especially given he wasn’t using his looks and magnetism to pull her in like most males – God or man – would. Okay, he was standing there completely starkers, but he’d done nothing to take advantage of that fact. He’d just used humour and bantering and the loveliest compliments she’d ever been given.
And boy, it was working. Not that it needed to work. She’d been ready to jump his bones the moment she’d seen him; she didn’t need anything else.
Yet … instead of moving towards him, she asked, “What’s going on here?”
He glanced down at himself then looked up at her through his eyelashes. “A baring of souls?”
She snort-laughed, slapping her hand to her lips, mortified. She’d never made that sound in her long existence.
He laughed too, plush lips splitting wide, white teeth flashing, head tipping back, the laugh vibrating in his chest and throat. Such a laugh, it made her laugh with him. At him. At her. At this strange situation they were in.
Slowly, their laughter petered out. He took a slow step towards her, head tipped to the side. “What brought you here?”
Chapter
Ten
Ilia blinked. What had brought her here?
Ah, yes. “A book. There was an image of you. I touched it and then here I was.” She tipped her head to the side. “You?”
“I think maybe you brought me here.”
“What do you mean?”
“I was about to get on with my day after …” He stopped, cheeks flushing and waved his hand. “Never mind. It’s a long story. Needless to say, I was finally determined to stop getting sucked into the wet-daydreams when bam! I was sucked into this. I assume it was you who brought me here.”
“I didn’t mean to.” She frowned. “Although, if it was me, why would I bring you here with no clothes on? I mean, I’m wearing the clothes I had on before coming here. Unless you weren’t dressed when dragged here?”
“No, I was dressed.” He raised a brow. “Maybe this is how you want to see me.”
Heat rushed up her chest and into her face. He was right. She’d been imagining what he looked like after every non-fulfilling dream ended with her disrobing and him staying clothed, then disappearing before they’d even got to touch. She should lie about that, but … “Maybe. Or maybe it’s about time that you’re the one who’s naked.”
“All’s fair,” he said. “In love and war?”
Love? Why did panic rise in her chest at that word? To cover, she snorted and said, “Love. That’s hardly applicable to these dreams of ours. That’s just lust.”
“Is it? Is it only that? When you appear and look at me like that, it feels deeper than lust. It feels—”
“Whoa! Hold that thought right there, Mister. We don’t know each other.”
He looked down at himself then back at her. One brow cocked. “Really.”
Heat rushed over her again. Almost against her will, she took a stumbling step towards him before managing to stop herself from rushing to him, giving more away than she was willing to. He had to meet her part way.
But he didn’t move. Every part of him was tensed, as if waiting for something. She wasn’t certain what, given the look in his eyes.
She licked her lips. He raised his brow, his erection twitching against his stomach.
“So?”
“So.”
She might have wanted the words before, but now, she wanted more. Needed more. “Are you going to continue to talk, or are you going to come over here?” She had no idea where those words came from either – her one and only time spent with any male in this way had been nothing like this. She’d not been this bold, this forward. She’d completely followed Mars’ lead. He’d taken. She’d given. And thought that was love.
So stupid.
But she wasn’t stupid now. She knew this wasn’t love, despite Triptolemus’ inference that more was going on between them. For her, it was lust. Pure and simple. Not that lust was either pure or simple. But whatever.
Looking at him filled her with lust.
And by the evidence before her, looking at her filled him with the same. But still, he didn’t move. “Please,” she managed to say.
“Please what?” he asked, that smile widening a little more.
“Please. I need you. Now.”
“Now?”
“Yes, now!”
“So demanding. Why are you always so demanding?”
“Because you like it that way.”
“Do I?”
“Oh yes, you do.”
She was shocked at herself but also delighted. It was freeing, this open, teasing talk. And so damned hot, especially with that look flaring in his eyes that mirrored the sensations firing through her.
And yet, he held back, sucking in an unsteady breath. “Oh, Ilia. I would like nothing more than to come over there and explore this. But given we seem more in control of things this time, shall we try to figure out why we keep being drawn back to each other? Or even why this is happening in the first place?”
Sexual heat fizzled inside her. She’d never been more disappointed in all her life, but Hells. He was right. Given this chance, she couldn’t let the others down. “I know why. We’ve been looking for you.”
“We?”
She nodded. “And then I found you when I astrally projected to you. I think the quality in your blood that allowed you to grow those plants brought me to you, allowed us to talk briefly. But there wasn’t enough information.”
“Information? About me?”
“That. And where you are.”
He glanced around him. “On my farm.”
“Yes, but where?”
“Why do you need to find me?”
