Prince of Air and Darkness

  She blinked and swallowed, her breath coming shorter as her pulse kicked up. She knew he must be able to feel the quickening of her pulse where his thumb caressed her wrist, but she couldn’t force herself to pull her hand away. Words failed her, and she sat there mute and confused. Suddenly, she wanted very much to kiss him, but the feeling was very different from the fuzzy-headed compulsion she’d experienced in the elevator.

  Hunter laughed softly and let go of her wrist. She almost reached for him, hating to have lost that point of contact between them. She stopped herself in time.

  “I think perhaps you’d better finish your glass of water and head on home,” he said with a rueful smile. “If you don’t, I’m going to end up making another pass, and then I’ll have to give you another free massage, and I’ll eventually go bankrupt.”

  Kiera let out a slow breath. Right this moment, she wasn’t entirely sure she would rebuff him if he did make a pass. She felt none of the creepy, unsettling sensations that she usually associated with him. Perhaps it had all been in her head, and he was exactly as he seemed. Her pulse showed no sign of slowing, and she imagined he would be an excellent kisser.

  But this was simply ridiculous. Men who looked like him did not pursue women who looked like her. He was simply reacting to their proximity, his male instincts prodding him in a sort of reflexive reaction entirely beyond his control. If she gave in to her own impulses, she would feel like the worst kind of fool afterward, and it would make their professional relationship impossible.

  So she sucked in a deep breath, ordering her pulse to return to normal, and she smiled at him. “Well, I certainly wouldn’t want you in bankruptcy court because of me.” She put some distance between them as she picked up the glass and gulped the remainder of the water. She plunked it triumphantly on the coaster and practically leapt to her feet. Shit, her cheeks were hot, which meant she was probably blushing.

  Hunter got to his feet almost as fast, his face now a mask of concern. “Damn! I just blew it again, didn’t I?” He shook his head. “Sorry, Kiera. I didn’t mean to—”

  She held up a hand to stop him. “Don’t worry about it.” She forced a smile. “You didn’t blow it. Really you didn’t,” she added when he looked skeptical. If she didn’t watch it, she was going to tweak more of those manly instincts by running away. “Thank you so much for the massage. It was really wonderful. I’ll recommend you to all my friends. Once you’re actually open for business, that is.”

  “Well, if you decide I owe you another freebie after my unwise comment, let me know. I’d be happy to oblige.”

  Yikes! As good as the massage had been, she didn’t think she dared risk another. The relaxation had clearly addled her brain, and if she didn’t watch it she could end up flinging herself at him. It had been too long since she’d had a boyfriend—she was really losing her cool.

  “I think I’ll let you off the hook just this once,” she said. “But you’d better be on your best behavior when I show you the website in a couple days, got it?”

  “I will be a model of propriety,” he promised as he guided her to the door.

  There was another awkward moment when they stood together in the doorway. Kiera found herself staring at his lips, speculating once more on what they would feel like on hers.

  Somehow, showing more willpower than she liked to contemplate, she managed to make it home without finding out.

  Chapter 7

  When the fog cleared from her head, Kiera realized the massage had left her even more perplexed by Hunter. That she had wanted him was undeniable; that the desire had felt so different from her earlier experiences with him just made it stranger. Trying to keep her mind . . . ajar . . . as Jackson had suggested, she had to admit that if there really were such a thing as fairy glamour, it would explain a lot: Hunter had used glamour to stir her hunger in the elevator, while it had been her own natural desire she’d felt in his apartment.

  Her mind still recoiled from the idea, but she sternly reminded herself that entertaining the possibility did no harm, and so she decided to set up an ambush.

  Instead of meeting Hunter in the safety of the coffee shop to show him the completed website design, she invited him to her apartment. Maybe she was sending a dangerous signal, but she wanted to try the horseshoe test—just to get the ridiculous notion out of her head—and she couldn’t think of any excuse for bringing a horseshoe with her to coffee.

  Kiera’s study was positively cramped with her large computer desk and bookshelves, but she could just manage to drag a second chair in. She scattered a handful of bric-a-brac on the chair, then nestled the horseshoe amongst the clutter. Her whole apartment was an homage to clutter, so she didn’t think the chair would stand out as unusual.

  True, the horseshoe looked pretty out of place. But, if Hunter was just a normal man—as, of course, he had to be—he would think nothing of it. And if he was some kind of supernatural being . . . Well, but he wasn’t, so it wasn’t worth thinking about what would happen if he was.

  Her imagination now firmly under control, Kiera waited anxiously for Hunter to arrive. She had changed clothes three times before she’d settled on a deep green button-down shirt-dress with a knotted leather belt. The fit and the color flattered her nicely without looking like something she’d wear for a date. And though she didn’t wear perfume or lipstick often, it wasn’t unheard of. No, she definitely wasn’t trying to make any kind of impression on Hunter.

  The doorbell rang and she suffered a moment of panic. God, what had she been thinking, dressing up and wearing lipstick? He’d take one look at her and assume she’d dressed up for him. What kind of a signal was she giving him? But it was too late now. Cursing herself under her breath, she hurried to get the door.

  Hunter looked more handsome every time she saw him. Today, he was wearing a charcoal gray sweater that looked like it might be cashmere. She shook his hand in greeting and had to resist an urge to run her palm over his arm to feel the sweater. Actually, it wasn’t his arm she most wanted to touch . . .

  “Great sweater,” she said, then wanted to slap herself for the ridiculous comment; it made her sound as nervous as she was. And there was no reason to be nervous. She was merely meeting with a client, showing him her work. If he was happy with her work, this might be the last time they saw each other, excepting the occasional run-in in the lobby or elevator.

  Hunter’s eyes smiled down at her as though he guessed the direction of her thoughts. “Thanks.” His eyes dipped lower, taking her in from head to toe then back again. His nostrils flared ever so slightly, like a hound scenting the wind. “Great dress,” he said, but his expression said clearly that he was more interested in what was under the dress.

  Kiera cleared her throat quietly, hoping her cheeks weren’t as rosy as she suspected. “Come in,” she said, gesturing him into the apartment. Her voice sounded too bright to her own ears. She wasn’t fooling anyone. “My office is back here.” She led him toward the office, painfully aware of how close behind her he walked.

  “Your shoulders are back up around your ears,” Hunter noted. He stopped her in the doorway by putting his hands on said shoulders and giving them a glorious squeeze. She sucked in a loud breath and he chuckled. “With shoulders this tense, you should be getting regular massages. It’s not good for you to carry so much tension around.”

  She had the distinct impression he knew that he himself was causing the tension, but she wasn’t rude enough to point it out to him. For a few delicious seconds, she let him rub her shoulders, wishing she could strip off the dress and get his hands on her bare skin. Then she forcibly reminded herself why he was here.

  “If you keep doing that, I’m going to turn into a puddle of mush,” she murmured.

  “Would that be a bad thing?”

  “Puddles of mush generally aren’t much good at showing off websites.”

  “Websites?” he said in feigned confusion.

  She laughed and reached up to pat one of his h
ands. “Back off, Romeo,” she said without rancor. “You have a business to run, remember?”

  He sighed dramatically, and then gave her shoulders a final squeeze before letting his hands slide away.

  The small, crowded study seemed even smaller with both of them in it, and Kiera wished she’d staged this scene in the living room. Hunter’s scent filled the air, making her knees all weak and quivery. She hurried to her chair and sat down, turning to the second chair and trying to look chagrined. “Sorry about the mess,” she said, waving a hand at the pile of junk on the chair. “Just put that stuff on the floor and have a seat.”

  She had laid out the trap carefully, covering the seat with small objects such as pens and paperclips and Post-it notes. There was nothing he could use to shield himself from the iron horseshoe, and he would have to touch it directly to clear off the seat. She glanced up and saw him frowning at the chair.

  “I get the paperclips and pens,” he said, turning his frown into a puzzled smile, “but explain the horseshoe.”

  She hoped she was hiding her embarrassment better than she thought she was. This was worse than silly! “My mother’s very superstitious,” she explained. “She gave me the horseshoe to put up on my front door, but I haven’t gotten around to it. Just chuck it on the floor.”

  Ignoring the chair, Hunter came to stand in front of her. He leaned over and grabbed the back of her chair, turning her around to face the computer. He kept his hands on the back of the chair, crowding into her space. “I think I’ll have a better view from right here, don’t you?” he asked, his breath fanning her hair.

  Kiera wanted to scream. On the one hand, he’d just neatly avoided touching the horseshoe, which should have been suspicious. On the other hand, moving in to stand so close was such a Hunter-like thing to do that it was hard to put any significance into his seeming reluctance.

  Admitting temporary defeat, she put her mind to showing him the website. He made appreciative comments here and there, and even once or twice suggested a slight change. But every nerve in her body told her that only a small fraction of his attention was on the computer screen. Certainly only a small fraction of hers was. Every time he breathed, she felt the air tickle her neck or her ear. Every time she breathed, she noticed the scent of bay leaves and sandalwood. His voice sent chills through her, and his body seemed to radiate heat.

  When she’d finished her tour of the site, Kiera felt like she’d just run a marathon, her heart was beating so hard. Her lips tingled with the yearning to be kissed, and her nipples had long ago gone hard. If she wasn’t careful, this time it would be she who made a pass at him. She had to put some distance between them somehow, before this went too far.

  “Would you help me hang that horseshoe to make my mother happy?” she asked, the words coming out too fast and way too blatant. Somewhere along the line, she’d lost the art of subtlety.

  “To hell with the horseshoe,” he murmured in her ear, then turned the chair around once more so that she was facing him. He grasped her upper arms and pulled her to her feet. The amazing thing was, she let him.

  Kiera’s heart slammed in her chest and her eyes widened as she read his intent, but she didn’t even try to escape as he lowered his head and captured her lips.

  The moment his lips touched hers, a deep-throated moan escaped her and she forgot all thoughts of resistance. He kissed lightly at first, a gentle exploration that made her ever hungrier. She put her arms around him, hands burrowing into the feather-soft cashmere as she tilted her head backward to give him full access. When the tip of his tongue licked delicately over the seam between her lips, she opened for him, pressing herself tightly into his arms, hands stroking his back as she imagined what that gloriously soft cashmere would feel like against her bare breasts.

  Hunter deepened the kiss, slipping his tongue past her teeth and exploring her mouth. Each caress of his tongue heightened her desire, and she moved her hips the better to feel the hard ridge in his pants. He moaned into her mouth and guided her until her back was against the wall, and he used his body to pin her there when her knees felt too weak to hold her up. His hands seized her breasts, kneading urgently at first, then circling the hardened nubs with his thumbs.

  Kiera clung to him for dear life, the flood of sensation overpowering. His mouth began to travel downward, hot lips trailing burning kisses across her jawline as he unbuttoned her dress down to her waist. By “coincidence” she’d worn an especially sexy black lace bra, and Hunter’s hands soon showed their ardent appreciation. She laid her head back against the wall, her eyes closed, her breaths shallow, her heart racing, as his kisses continued down her throat, the scrape of his teeth suggesting he was marking her. She didn’t care.

  She should be reciprocating somehow, should be caressing him, giving him at least a fraction of the pleasure he was giving her. Instead, she stood selfishly still, hands buried in his sweater, as he popped the catch on her bra and tasted her. The rasp of his tongue against her nipple sent a delighted shiver through her.

  Hunter raised his head from her breast to give her another amazing kiss. She dug her fingers into his hair as she felt the soft sweep of cashmere against her bare flesh. She pressed her breasts into him, teasing her own nipples against the softness of the sweater. He worked more buttons loose on her dress, then started tugging on the knot in her belt.

  The phone rang.

  Hunter might as well not have heard it for all the attention he spared it. He was struggling a bit with the tight knot, but Kiera was confident he’d manage. The phone rang again, and she urged herself to ignore it just as Hunter was doing.

  On the third ring, Kiera came back to herself enough to wonder just what the hell she was doing. If she didn’t pull back on the reins soon, Hunter was going to screw her against the wall in a minute. Her body flushed with heat at the image that formed in her mind.

  The phone’s fourth ring was cut off by her answering machine. Hunter won out over the knot in her belt, and the strip of leather dropped to the floor. He smoothed his hands over the skin of her belly under her dress, curving them around the swell of her hips until they cupped her bottom.

  “Kiera, honey, it’s me,” her mother’s voice said over the answering machine, which, unfortunately, was situated in the study so she could hear it loud and clear.

  The sound of her mother’s voice was like a splash of cold water. She had to stop this. Now.

  If she could.

  She reluctantly drew her hands out of Hunter’s hair and placed them against his chest.

  “I just wanted to see if you’d made any progress on that matter we were discussing the other day,” her mother continued, blissfully unaware of just what her daughter was doing at the moment.

  Kiera pushed against Hunter’s chest, firming up her knees so she no longer stood so limply in his arms.

  “Give me a call when you get this message, sweetheart.”

  Hunter seemed uninclined to yield to the pressure against his chest, his tongue still probing the depths of her mouth, his hands doing wicked things to her derriere. She pushed more forcefully and tried to turn her head to the side.

  “I know you think I’m being my usual nutty self, but I’ll feel much better when I know you’ve tried our little experiment.”

  Kiera was just beginning to feel a frisson of alarm, wondering if she was going to be able to get Hunter to stop, when he finally broke the kiss and moved his hands around until they rested on her hips.

  “If I’m not home when you call, just leave a message. Thanks for humoring a wacky old lady.”

  The answering machine beeped again, then went silent. Kiera swallowed hard and rested her forehead against Hunter’s chest. Her entire body still felt the heat of desire. He was standing so close to her, she could feel his heat, and the scent of him nearly made her giddy. With her forehead pressed against his chest, she could feel the pounding of his heart. His hands still rested on her hips inside her dress as he awaited an invitation to resume.
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  Gathering her courage, she raised her head from his chest and looked up into his eyes, staring into pupils dark and dilated with lust. Almost, she gave in to the hunger she saw there, the hunger that sang through her blood just as intensely.

  Kiera shivered, amazed at how overpowering this whole encounter had been. Hunter’s lips curved in the barest beginning of a smile. She matched it with an ironic smile of her own.

  “You know,” she said, “usually I don’t kiss on the first date.” She frowned as though deep in thought. “I certainly think this has gone far enough, since we haven’t even had a first date yet.”

  He laughed, and the sound was rich and mellow. He smoothed his hands up her sides, then cupped her bare breasts again. Her breath caught in her throat while her conscious mind scrambled to rally the troops.

  “How would you like to come to dinner Friday night?” he asked, giving her breasts a light squeeze. “My place.”

  She hesitated before answering. Her blood pounded in her ears, and the long-denied hunger screamed at her to accept, but she was well aware what dangerous territory she was venturing into. There was no denying she wanted Hunter, but just because she wanted something didn’t mean it was good for her. She had no doubt that if she were alone in Hunter’s apartment, he would go for the jugular. And she had lots of doubt that she’d be able to resist.

  “Come now,” he teased, “the decision isn’t that difficult, is it?”

  She looked down at his hands still cupping her breasts. “It is when you’re doing that,” she said, a trifle breathlessly.

  He moved his hands away with evident reluctance, then even went so far as to pull her dress closed to give her some semblance of modesty. “There, is that better?”