This wasn’t real. Or right. Or anything, but the moment, the succulent taste of him in her mouth, claiming it with each firm thrust of his tongue.
Jamie clutched fistfuls of his shirt, drawing him closer. Only then did Damian break the kiss. A low groan rumbled from him as he stepped back, never losing his grip on her. Intent burned in his gaze.
Alarmed and dismayed, Jamie licked her lips. I just kissed my brother’s murderer. The Draicon I tried to kill.
Damian laid a palm against her cheek. “Hush,” he murmured. “I won’t hurt you.”
“Then lift that damn spell of yours.” Jamie stopped moving, stricken by the calming feel of his touch. She stared at him, taking in his strong, square chin, straight nose and high cheekbones. Classical good looks. And a werewolf lurking inside.
She had tried to kill him in New Mexico, but Nicolas, his beta, had healed Damian. And then Damian had cast a binding spell, prohibiting her from doing magick. The dark powers Kane, the Morph leader, had bestowed on her had vanished. Damian had said it was because the Morphs wouldn’t want her without her powers.
But he lied. She knew it.
She then had escaped, but he’d found her. No matter. She would escape him once more.
“I can’t. The magick in you is dark. Until I can erase it, the spell remains.”
“I’ll find a way around it. I can defeat you, Draicon.”
A shadow crossed his face. “There are things you must know, Jamie. You’re in danger. You need my help.”
“Your help? I’d rather kiss a Morph. At least they gave me power.”
He gave her a pensive look. “What did Kane do to give you magick?"
“I had sex with him,” she taunted.
Now that full mouth flattened into a thin slash. He looked dangerous and edgy. Leaning closer, he seemed to nuzzle her neck. No, he was sniffing her, like a wolf scenting a rabbit. Damian drew back. Male satisfaction gleamed in his eyes.
“You didn’t. I can’t smell him on you. You haven’t been with another male since me.”
Her chin rose. “I could. Probably someone would trade me sex for a way to release your binding spell.”
A dark look draped his features. Damian offered a thin smile, but his green eyes spoke volumes. Rage and male possessiveness.
“Don’t sell yourself short, Jamie. Your body is worth much more. And if you try it, I’ll find the male and make him regret he ever laid eyes on you.” He paused, his strokes against her neck gentle compared to the murderous fury flashing in his eyes. “I’ll rip him apart. Slowly.”
White canines flashed in his dark smile … the teeth elongating as if he were shape-shifting. Jamie tilted her chin up, refusing to show fear.
“And me? What would you do with me?”
Damian’s expression shifted. The intensity of his look was strong enough to melt steel.
“What I’d do with you? I’d rip off your clothing and I’d put my mouth all over your body and make you come until you screamed for mercy. There’d never be another male for you, ever, because every time you’d try to get close to another I’d be there, my scent in your nostrils, my taste in your mouth and the feel of my cock inside you.”
He released her neck and gave her nose a light, almost affectionate tap. “Understand?"
Jamie moistened her kiss-swollen mouth. A deep, primitive urge rose at the way he stared at her lips. His muscles locked as his pupils got larger, nearly overriding the jade-green irises. Damian might have some odd sexual hold over her, but damn, she had the same over him. She had the odd feeling if she had the courage, she could wield a much greater power. But her lack of experience and inner terror of Damian’s power held her back.
“I get it. You stripped my powers to punish me. Fine. Let’s deal. I’ll make up for it if you get rid of this damn spell. If you don’t, I’ll find another way. Like a hidden book of magick, Draicon.”
Damian lightly trailed long fingertips over her cheek. “My name is Damian, not Draicon.” His voice suddenly softened. Was there a note of regret there? She couldn’t tell. “There’s no need to make up for anything, Jamie. The binding spell is there for your own protection. Trust me, it’s best.”
“I know what’s best for me. I don’t need you or anyone else.”
Torment flashed in his eyes, then he closed them. Bemused, she stared at the long sweep of dark lashes against his tanned cheeks. Damian opened his eyes, the emotion gone. “Walk with me. We need to talk. It’s urgent.”
She didn’t want to, but the warm palm he cupped on her elbow suggested otherwise. Damian began steering her toward the river.
“Let me go. I don’t trust you.”
He stopped, giving her a solemn look. “I haven’t given you good reason to trust me, either. But we must talk. We’ll go to Café du Monde. Very public, so if you feel threatened, there’s people around and you can scream for help. Okay?"
The devil offered her an irresistibly sweet deal. Hunger pulled with the image of a crisp beignet coated with layers of glistening powdered sugar.
People crowded the green-and-white-striped canopied café. Damian guided her to a quiet table outside. He pulled a chair out for her.
Torn between wanting to flee and hunger, Jamie sat. Damian took the seat beside her, so close his leg touched hers. She shuffled over; he followed. He seemed determined to stay close. Damian frowned as he examined her dejected expression. Reaching over, he cupped her chin, lifted it to his scrutinizing gaze.
“Hey,” he said softly. “Relax. It will get better. The world hasn’t collapsed.”
My world has, she wanted to say, feeling her throat constrict. Instead she offered a brave shrug that hid her emotions.
Damian gave her a long, thoughtful look. He didn’t question her further, but released his grip and gave their order to a tired-looking waitress. Barely had she left when Jamie ripped a paper napkin out of the holder and spread it over on the tabletop. She shook the glass sugar container over the napkin, then unscrewed it, dumping out the contents onto the napkin.
His green eyes widened as she dug into the snowy mountain with her spoon and gulped down mouthfuls. “Easy,” he murmured.
Ignoring him, she continued eating. The rush kicked in, giving her a flood of energy. The spoon clattered to the table. The scarred tabletop resembled a white powder explosion. Damian looked deeply troubled.
“Wow, I knew sugar was supposed to give you a rush. I’ve been so tired lately.” She wiped her fingers with a fresh napkin.
His dark, heavy brows drew together. “Jamie, why did you ask the Morphs to grant you the power of flight when there were other powers you could have received?"
“I didn’t. Kane infected me with dark magick and told me it would shift to whatever natural form I desired.”
Damian’s gaze riveted to a fly landing near the sugar on the table. With amazing speed, his palm smacked down, killed the insect. She gave him a bemused look.
“Just a fly,” he mused, flicking it away. “But you can’t be certain. Not here.”
The waitress brought over plates of beignets and steaming