Shadow Thief - Eva Chase Page 0,54
and fell where my arm lay just below her breasts. I stroked my fingers over her side just for the pleasure of touching that warm, smooth skin once more. Warm and smooth—and layered with toned muscle underneath. I appreciated a woman who could be both soft and strong. Her fiery sweet scent lingered in my nose, equally delicious.
My own skin still hummed with the aftermath of my orgasm. I’d drawn the glow back into it, returning to my more subtle mortal guise, since it wasn’t wise for any of us to get used to walking around in this realm au naturel. I’d worn these trappings of humanity often enough that this false body felt more comfortable than my own in mortal-side air, other than when I was employing my powers.
I had enjoyed my release quite a lot. Watching Sorsha give herself over so completely to the act, hearing her beg me to join her just as completely, knowing she’d wanted this interlude as much as I had—I didn’t think I’d ever come so hard.
But the moment was over, and I really ought to leave her to the rest her mortal body would be craving after the extended, chaotic night. I kissed one of those rosy cheeks and moved to push myself upright.
As I shifted on the bed, Sorsha’s hand came up to touch my arm, as if she were beckoning me to stay. My gaze shot to her face, a quiver of uncertainty prickling through me—and before I had a chance to catch myself, I’d peeked into her mind.
The emotions at the forefront were easy to read once I let myself: a pleasantly drowsy haze and a longing to keep my warmth next to her as she drifted off.
I jerked my awareness back, a twinge fluttering through my chest. She really did get some sort of contentment from my presence even now that the act I was most skilled at was over. That knowledge sparked a little more contentment in me than I was comfortable with. And as I relaxed back down next to her, the twinge sharpened into a pang of guilt.
I’d promised her I wouldn’t violate the privacy of her mind. She’d made it very clear that this one term was non-negotiable, no matter what physical intimacies we shared. If she knew I’d broken my word…
My first instinct—and, really, my second and third as well—was to dismiss that secret into the shadows where she never needed to find out. Why tell her something that would upset her if I didn’t need to? But when she stirred and rolled onto her side, catching my gaze with a dreamy little smile, the pang stabbed too deeply for me to ignore.
She’d been genuine and open with me. She’d cared enough to let me feed despite her reservations—offered me more trust than apparently she should have. Hell, she’d literally rescued me from captivity and the slow starvation I’d faced there.
I was man enough to give her the respect she’d earned, wasn’t I? Even if the consequences wouldn’t work to my favor.
“Sorsha,” I said carefully. “I—just now—I read your emotions. Only for a moment, only a few.”
Before I could go on, she jerked back from me and sat up. Her hair spilled over her shoulders like rivulets of flame—or blood. From the look on her face, I might as well have cut her. “What?”
I sat up too, groping for an acceptable explanation. “I didn’t intend to—it’s second nature at this point, and I slipped, and as soon as I realized I pulled back. It won’t happen again.”
Her arms crossed over her chest, hiding the lovely slopes of her breasts. Her voice came out taut. “If you did it without meaning to, how can you be sure you won’t accidentally trip into my head again?”
A reasonable question. “I’ll be more on guard now. I’ll—”
“No.” She scooted farther away on the bed and motioned to the door. Her expression had tightened, shutting me out as fully as that brooch of hers once had. “I don’t want to hear it. Just get out. I—” Her hand fumbled across the bedcovers for a second before clenching. Realizing she’d left the brooch and its protections behind in her burning apartment like she had so much else? Somehow that small gesture wrenched me more than anything before had.
I was already springing off the bed as I’d been planning to in the beginning, if more hastily than before. With a blink and an ounce of concentration, the clothes I’d shed