A Kiss of Shadows - By Laurell K. Hamilton Page 0,71

good enough.”

“It’s the best I have to offer. Is fear of rejection really worth losing your first touch of sidhe flesh so quickly?”

Doubt flickered in his eyes. “If you can’t . . . stomach it,” something about the phrase amused him, but not in a happy way, “then can I call glamour and . . .”

I finished when his voice trailed off. “Yes, we can.”

He nodded. “That is the closest I have ever come to begging.”

I laughed. “Lucky you.”

He looked puzzled then, and it was almost a relief to see the real Sholto peeking through that careful mask. “I don’t understand.”

“Your magic is powerful enough that you probably don’t.” It was my voice that held bitterness now. I shook it off, literally shaking my head, sending my hair sliding around my face. I held my hands out to him. “Come here.”

Distrust showed on his face. I guess I couldn’t blame him, but I was getting tired of holding his emotional hand. I didn’t want to hurt him, but I wasn’t sure I wanted to tie myself to him forever. It wasn’t the tentacles—it was the heavy emotions that seemed to swing back and forth so quickly. He was going to be a high-maintenance partner when it came to his feelings. Men like that are so damned exhausting that I usually avoid them, but Sholto could offer me things that the others couldn’t. He could give me back my home—for that I could shovel emotional shit for a while. But truthfully, it was almost a bigger mark against him than his extras.

“Drop the shirt and come here, or don’t. It’s your choice.”

“You sound impatient,” he said.

I shrugged. “A little.” I motioned him closer with my hands.

He slid the shirt off his shoulders to spill to the floor. A flurry of emotions crossed his face; he finally settled on defiance. Fine with me, because I knew that whatever was on his face wasn’t how he really felt. He’d use a mask until he was sure of his welcome.

He dropped the glamour.

Chapter 13

I TRIED TO WATCH ALL OF HIM AS HE WALKED TOWARD ME, BUT FINALLY gave up and stared. The tentacles were the same gleaming white as the rest of him. There was the faintest marbling effect in the thickest tentacles, and I knew from Bhatar that those were the muscular arms, the tentacles that did the heavy work. There were longer, thinner tentacles in groupings around the ribs and upper stomach. They were the fingers, but a hundred times more sensitive than a sidhe’s. Then just above the belly button was a fringe of shorter tentacles with slightly darker tips. That he had those made me wonder even more if what lay in his pants was sidhe, or not.

I sat on the bed and stared until he was standing in front of me. He kept his face turned away, hands clapsed behind his back, as if he didn’t want to see or touch me. I reached out and touched one of those smooth muscular tentacles. It jerked away at my touch. I stroked it, and I felt Sholto’s gaze before I looked up to meet it.

I stroked the outer skin of the tentacle again. “These are for hard work, lifting, capturing prey, or prisoners.” I traced my finger on the underside of the tentacle, feeling the slightly different texture. It wasn’t unpleasant, but it was thicker than human skin, almost rubbery, like the skin on a dolphin.

“I suppose Bhatar told you that.” His voice was angry.

“Yes.” I grabbed the base of the tentacle where it melded into his body. I pulled gently but firmly down the length of it. It wrapped around my hand, holding it, moving it away from him.

“Don’t,” he said.

“It felt good didn’t it?” I asked.

He looked at me, so angry, so scared. “How do you know what feels good to a nightflyer?”

“I asked.”

He looked startled then, and I was able to pull my hand free of him.

I touched one of the groupings of thinner tentacles. They retracted like sea fans when a diver brushes them below a coral sea. “Bhatar could do the most intricate needlework with his fingers.”

I moved my hand lower, not quite touching the last visible line of tentacles. “These are very sensitive—they can be used for the finest tactile work, but they’re actually a secondary sexual organ.”

He looked startled. “We do not usually share that bit of information with outsiders.”

“I know.” I smiled. “Bhatar used to caress visiting ladies with them. They were