Witch Blood - By Anya Bast Page 0,59

mind cast about for arguments—“what if Boyle shows up tonight and I’m locked in here with no escape? This could be dangerous.”

“The warding is set to register your emotions. If you’re fleeing for your life in absolute terror, the magick will know and allow you through.”

A key to the warding. Maybe she could turn it.

Isabelle opened the floodgate to her fears, allowing all her terror to come pouring forth. She remembered…a tiny, dark closet.

Sand washed mouth, or so it felt like. Pressing her tongue to the floor where Angela poured water under the door’s crack. Never enough, never enough. Stomach gnawing on itself from the inside. Searching jacket pockets for crumbs. Curling up in a corner with only two tattered coats and the smell of mothballs for company.

She remembered imagining she was one of those cave-dwelling insects she’d read about at school. They’d evolved without eyes since their world was constantly dark. Would she eventually lose her eyes, too?

But most of all, Isabelle remembered her sister’s tiny, child’s voice on the other side of the door. I can’t find the key, Isa, I can’t find it.

Her heart beat faster. Her breath came in short, hard little pants that stabbed her chest. Isabelle tried the door again and it opened a crack.

Thomas placed his hand near her head, palm flat against the door. He pushed it closed. “Is staying here tonight with me so frightening, Isabelle?” His voice was a low, silken murmur.

She closed her eyes and felt the prick of tears. Again she reminded herself that she wasn’t in that closet anymore. Now she was an adult, empowered, able to take care of herself. She was with a man who had never hurt her, would never hurt her. Indeed, he only wanted to protect her, would probably give his life to do so.

Thomas cared about her. He was one of the few in this world who did.

Her panic receded and she wrestled her breathing and heart rate under control once more. Her breath shuddered out of her in relief as she gave up the last of her terror. A tear plopped onto the carpet at her feet.

Thomas turned her to face him. Concern for her marked his handsome face and for a moment she loved him for it.

Maybe for even more than a moment.

He brushed the pad of his thumb down her cheek, catching a second stray teardrop. “Please talk to me for once, Isabelle. It’s clear this is about more than me locking you in this room for your protection.”

She stared at him, her lips parting a little. Finally she nodded. “It is. I have claustrophobia, and I tend to panic when I’m locked in rooms.”

“Shit, Isabelle. I’m sorry. I—”

She put her fingers to his lips and gave him a shaky smile. “It’s all right. I’m okay and you didn’t know.” She dragged her fingers from his mouth, up his jawline to cup his cheek. “I think I’m all right now.”

He opened his mouth to say something, but she went up on her toes and kissed him before it came out.

Thomas reacted instantly, threading his arms around her waist and lifting her away from the door. His hands were on her everywhere at once, working the button and zipper of her jeans, and then pulling her shirt over her head.

She went to her knees and dragged the hem of his sweater upward, licking her tongue over his hard abs as they were revealed. Having risen to meet his mouth, she pulled the sweater over his head and quickly divested him of the rest of his clothing between kisses. Soon she slid against him skin-on-skin.

Mouth and tongue working, Thomas muscled her up against a nearby wall and turned her to face it. He’d left her shoes on and now she saw why. They had a thick heel and elevated her, lessening the difference in their height so they could make love in a standing position.

Panting with anticipation, she spread her palms flat against the wall in front of her as he ran his hands down her body lovingly, over her breasts, across her stomach. He delved between her buttocks, planing the curves, and then dipped between her thighs to drag his fingers over her intimate flesh.

Her breath hissed out of her and she felt herself cream. Thomas slid two fingers deep inside her and at the same time pressed his body against hers. His teeth nipped at the nape of her neck, raising gooseflesh along her body.

Maybe being locked in