The Empath

She didn’t want to end the evening. Neither did he.

“Been my pleasure, Dr. Maggie.” He sketched a courtly bow. Straightening, he winked. She laughed again, stopped, searching his face.

“It’s odd but I feel like we’ve met before tonight.”

“Perhaps we’re destined to be together,” he said softly, watching her.

Nicolas placed a hand on the trunk, above her head. Leaned just a little closer. Close enough to drink in her delicious aroma. Spice. Something fresh, floral like wildflowers. And the gut-clenching scent of female arousal.

That adorable frown line dented her brow. “You said you came here to visit a friend, and that she’d be more than a friend before the night ends.”

“I did,” he said softly. Nicolas brushed away a lock of silky hair from her cheek. “It’s you, Maggie. I came here to seduce you.”

She drew in a deep breath, blue eyes darkening. “You’re very charming. Are you like this with all woman?”

“Just you. Only you, Maggie.” He cupped her chin, tilted her head up to meet his penetrating gaze. “You’re the only one for me.”

Her lush mouth parted. “It’s odd. I truly do feel like we know each other. As if it’s meant to be. Do you believe in destiny? One person, your missing half, destined to be with you? But what are the chances of it happening?”

“I do. You know what they say. You have to kiss a lot of wolves to find Mr. Right,” he murmured.

“I thought it was kiss a lot of frogs?”

He shot her a cocky grin. “Would you rather kiss a frog?”

“No,” she said, a little breathlessly. Nicolas watched the pulse beat at the base of her throat. Fast. Faster. “I’d rather … kiss you.”

Against the coconut tree’s rough bark, he braced his hands on either side of her, pressing her against the tree. “What do you want, Maggie? This?”

He lowered his head, and his mouth claimed hers.

It felt electric, hot, as if all his nerve endings centered on the contact between their lips. He savored the tangy taste of wine and her innocence. Her mouth was pliant, soft and silky beneath his. Nicolas cupped the back of her head, deepened the kiss. His tongue plunged into her parted mouth, thrust, imitating the sex act. She hesitated, reached out in turn, flicking her tongue over his.

He drank in her essence, her spice, tasting her life, all her hopes, dreams.

Passions.

Nicolas felt himself flowing into her, his internal essence trickling like water into her spirit. First contact … prelude to mating, when they’d exchange magick powers, and become fully one. Each lost half joined as in Old Times, before the Draicon split themselves in half to willingly lessen their powers before they became too powerful. Too dark. Too … evil.

Nicolas groaned as she writhed against him, pressing her hips against his. Maggie. His Maggie. His free hand stroked her body, teased, explored.

Sweetness. Spice. His hand delved between her thighs, cupped her in hard possessiveness. Nicolas rubbed, wanting to give her hot pleasure. She whimpered, twisted, ground her hips against him. Maggie pressed closer to him. As if she couldn’t wait to get inside him.

He withdrew his hand, his groin growing hard and heavy. Nicolas brought his fingers up, inhaled her delicious female scent. Bringing his index finger to his mouth, he gave it a long, slow lick. As if licking her.

Her wide gaze held his. Maggie moistened her kiss-swollen lips.

He gazed at her, dark, fierce. Wanting.

In minutes he’d have her, shorts stripped off, panties shredded, her slender legs spread open. Tasting her, bringing her to one shattering climax after another. Then, when she was wet and ready for him, he would sink his hard cock into her, sealing their bond of the flesh.

Every male instinct screamed yes. Nicolas reached for her again.

And caught a scent that rocked him back on his heels. Not delicious, aroused female spice.

Something dark, evil. Like a rotting corpse.

A Morph.

Trembling, Maggie fell back against the palm. One kiss. One soul-stopping press of his warm, wet mouth against hers. Feeling that hard, muscled body mold against her. In that moment, she went from guarded, slightly drunk but distant Maggie to Super Hormonal Woman. Able to leap his male body in a single bound.

She’d never been this sexual. Men interested her, but thought her too intelligent, too unapproachable. Too prudish when she refused to go to bed with them.

Now, dealing with a man she’d met barely an hour ago, her hormones were hopping like water drops on a hot skillet. The guy radiated sexuality like a beacon.

Practical to the bone, Maggie knew it was only nature dousing her with a flood of arousal to make up for the long months she’d avoided men while focusing on her work. Nature versus Overworked Single Businesswoman. Hormones on nature’s side. Score … tonight.

Maggie blinked as Nicolas lifted his head. He appeared to sniff the air. The dim yellow glow from her porch light revealed his expression shifting from fierce desire to wary speculation.

He moved so quickly she had no time to react. Strong fingers laced about her upper arm in an unyielding grip. “Get inside,” he urged, and steered her toward the front entrance.

Whoa. A bit fast. But wasn’t this what she wanted? Maggie, the practical, weighed the consequences of sleeping with Nicolas, a total stranger. Okay, a cute total stranger. Condoms?

She had none. Maybe he had some in his wallet. Right. New ones. She swiped a glance at his bulging crotch.

Her internal traffic light flashed yellow. Caution. Yet everything inside yearned to join with him. She felt caught in the helpless grip of sexual arousal. Why not sleep with him? She was a virgin, not out of moral principle, but sheer disinterest. No man had ever made her feel interested enough. Until now.

What was she waiting for? She’d been a virgin for twenty-seven years. If she waited any longer, they might as well bronze her and slap her on the shelf.

Green light. Go. Go. Go, her body urged.

Maggie gave up, and decided to cave in to her body’s insistent demands. They reached the front door. She fumbled for the key in her shorts pocket.

“Hurry, Maggie,” he ordered.

When the door was unlocked, Nicolas nearly ran inside, dragging her with him. Gently, but firmly, he put her behind him as he shut the door and clicked the dead bolt home.

Maggie flicked on the wall switch. Light splashed over his face, showing ruthless features hard as granite. He studied the living room. Suddenly shy, she fumbled with the buttons of her blouse. This seemed so effortless in movies and romance novels.

Nicolas turned back to her. Surprise flared as he watched her slowly part the halves of her blouse, revealing the lacy cups of her bra.

Surprise was not the emotion she’d hoped for. Maggie clapped the blouse shut.

“Ah, Maggie.” His unshaven jaw worked, as if he struggled for control. “Later. When there’s time,” he said softly.

Grim-faced, Nicolas strode over to the sliding glass doors and drew the blinds shut. Maggie followed, totally flummoxed.

Whump! Something launched itself with lightning speed against the slider. A low screech hurt her ears, raking against her nerves like fingernails against slate. Maggie winced, but Nicolas only splayed his hands against the wooden blinds.

“You’ll not get her, evil one,” he mused, nearly to himself. “You’ll have to kill me to get to her now. And Kane will not allow me to die.”

He glanced at her. “Stay away from the windows. They can eventually find a way in, but don’t make yourself a visible target. I’m going outside.” He started for the front door.

They? “Who are they? Nicolas, what’s going on? Nicolas!”

He halted, slowly turned.

“What’s wrong? What was that that hit my sliders?”

“You don’t want to know. Not now.”

Slowly, she understood. He’d dragged her inside to escape … something. But there couldn’t be anything outside. This was too weird. Logic said Nicolas was flaky. Surely he looked a bit dangerous, with that wild, searching look in his dark eyes, the grim set of his mouth.

An old college course in behavioral science surfaced. Maggie studied her would-be lover. “Is there something out there that can hurt me, Nicolas? What is it?”

He glanced right, as if searching in the distance. “It’s not something that can hurt you. It’s something that will hurt you. It can sneak up on you before you take a single step.”

“You’re telling the truth,” she realized. “But Nicolas, if there’s something out there …”

He kissed her lips—a brief, intense kiss. “It’s just a small problem I must take care of. Lock the door behind me. And avoid the windows.”

Maggie put a hand to her spinning head, watching in dumbstruck disbelief as he padded out the front door. She bolted it behind him, her thoughts a maelstrom.

Hormones forgotten, she hugged herself. Odd noises. Threats. Danger. A stranger in a bar who evoked a feeling of déjà vu, whom she wanted to sleep with almost instantly. It made no sense. Yet deep inside, it did.

Memories pushed to the surface, clamoring to be heard. No. I will not, she thought wildly. Cell mitosis. Division. Creation. Life.

Misha, dying.

Maggie went to check on Misha. The dog slept on her pillow in the corner by the china cabinet. She squatted down, stroked her pet. If only I could take away your pain, sweetheart, I would. I’d do anything to make you well again.

Misha’s breathing was labored. Grief gripped Maggie like an iron fist. Soon, she’d have to make the decision. Did she do the humane thing as Mark insisted and euthanize her beloved friend before the pain became too intense? Maggie pressed shaking hands to her temples. She needed more time for research.

Time was a luxury she lacked.

Maggie went into the living room to wait.

In minutes he returned, locking the door behind him. Three long, bloodied gashes furrowed his right cheek as if something with claws had swiped him. Staring, she lurched to her feet.

“Problem solved,” he announced.

“What was it?” Maggie went to him, her stomach lurching at the blood on his face. Blood, except for in her practice, always nauseated her. She could perform surgery on injured animals and treat the worst wounds, but on humans, it had always sickened her.

“Let me take care of this. I have a firstaid kit.”

Nicolas shook his head. “It’s nothing. I heal fast.”

Unable to tear her gaze away from his cheek, she couldn’t fight the sinking feeling something sinister had lurked outside. “What attacked you?”

“Just a little stray problem. I took care of it.”

She worried her bottom lip. “I’ve got questions….”

“And I have answers, which I’ll share, when the time is right.” He smiled, lifting the darkness from his expression.

She lifted her chin, met his gaze head-on. “No, Nicolas. I want answers. Right now.”

Конец ознакомительного фрагмента.

Текст предоставлен ООО «ЛитРес».

Прочитайте эту книгу целиком, купив полную легальную версию на ЛитРес.

Безопасно оплатить книгу можно банковской картой Visa, MasterCard, Maestro, со счета мобильного телефона, с платежного терминала, в салоне МТС или Связной, через PayPal, WebMoney, Яндекс.Деньги, QIWI Кошелек, бонусными картами или другим удобным Вам способом.