"And Eleanor is both?"
"Yes."
A chill ran down her back. She clenched her fingers to stop their sudden shaking. Eleanor didn't look any older than she was, so how could she hold the sort of power he appeared to be talking about? "She doesn't look to be either."
"No, she doesn't. And that makes her all the more dangerous, in my estimation." And damn you for continuing this, his eyes seemed to add. She licked dry lips. "But what would someone like that want with the blood of teenagers?"
Several seconds ticked by before he answered. "Blood rituals create powerful magic. It has many uses."
Blood rituals. It's all too hard to believe...®n& yet, staring into his eyes, she saw only the bleakness of truth. He couldn't lie to her, as much as he wanted to. She shivered and half wished she hadn't begun this line of questioning. He was right.
There were some things she was better off not knowing.
She rubbed her arms lightly. "What sort of uses?"
"It can be used to raise the dead, to extend life, to enhance the power of certain spells." His replies were becoming more abrupt, the time between her questions and his answers longer. Maybe the truth drug was starting to wear off. She pulled her gaze away from his and studied the end of the bed. The tension level in the room seemed to leap several notches in the ensuing silence. She took a deep breath, then asked the one question that really mattered. "Why couldn't you seduce Eleanor?"
He didn't answer right away. The silence seemed to stretch, jarring against her nerves. A whisper of sound made her look up quickly—and far too late to back away.
He stopped inches away, blue eyes unreadable and yet somehow compelling. She swallowed heavily. The heat of his body rolled over her, mixed with the rich scent of his aftershave. Warmth spread through her. He was close, so close that her br**sts brushed against his chest and sent flames of desire shooting through her soul.
It was time to retreat, to stop asking questions and just move away from him, but she couldn't. Something in his eyes made her breath catch in her throat and held her immobile.
"Tell me why," she repeated almost hoarsely.
And wondered if she'd just made the biggest mistake of her life.
"When I was doing this to Eleanor." He ran his knuckles down her cheek, his touch branding her skin even though it was butterfly light. "I wanted it to be you."
He cradled her chin with one hand and moved his head slowly towards hers.
"And when I was doing this-" He brushed his lips over hers, then lifted his other hand to frame her face. "I wanted to be doing this to you." His lips captured hers; his tongue parted them and gently explored her mouth. Heat exploded deep in the pit of her stomach then burned through her veins, hot and swift. Dear God, it had been so long since she'd been held, been kissed, with any sort of warmth...and never in her life had she craved someone's touch as much as she now craved his. She moved into his kiss, deepening it, savoring the taste of his mouth as she molded her body against the heat of his.
His hand moved down her side and tugged up her shirt, then splayed against her lower back. He held her close, as if he never intended to let her go. Heat and desire ran through her soul. She wanted this man to caress her, become one with her. Wanted him with such aching fierceness it was almost frightening. She wrapped her arms around his neck, tasting the salty sweetness of his neck, his ear.
"I need you," he whispered into her hair, his breath warm as it brushed along her neck.
His words jarred through her mind. Need, she thought with sudden clarity. Need was a long, long way from love. Oh God, I think I'm falling for this man, and he just doesn't care. It was a nightmare she'd sworn never again to relive. She wedged her arms between them and pushed. His arms tightened around her, momentarily resisting, then he reluctantly let her go.
"I can't do this," she said softly. He was breathing just as hard she was, and he looked just as shocked by the sudden intensity of their kiss. "Though I won't deny I want to."
He took a deep breath, then ran a hand through his hair. He'd basically said the same thing to Eleanor less than an hour ago. And he didn't like having it flung back at him.
The red haze of desire still clung to her. Damn it, if she wanted him as much as he wanted her, what in hell was stopping them?
"This has not been my night," he muttered, then smiled wryly and stepped back. "But hey, you can't blame a guy for trying." Anger and hurt spun through the swirl of her emotions and made him regret his words. But only for an instant. No matter how attracted he was to her, it could never amount to anything more than a fleeting moment or two of pleasure. It was too dangerous to want anything more.
She tore her gaze away and edged past him before retreating to the small table.
He sat back down on the bed. The farther away from her the better, he thought grimly. He was already aching with desire for her. The last thing he needed was to smell her perfume, the scent of her skin. To feel the close warmth of her body...
She cleared her throat, and he met her wary gaze. Her cheeks were still flushed, her mouth soft and inviting...
He smiled. One way or another, this was not going to be an easy night to get through. Particularly if the truth drug continued to linger in his system.
"You might not have had much luck finding Evan, but I did," she said quietly. There was an endearing mix of wariness and pride in her expression. "Tell me how," he said. He knew she must have used her clairvoyant abilities, which was a big step for someone so afraid of her skills.
"I got tired of waiting," she said candidly, "and thought I'd try to find him."