“It’s obsidian,” he says unnecessarily because I can already feel it. “It’s meant to provide protection.”
“I know,” I say, picking up on the gentle power of the stone. But that’s all I feel. No wards or charms. No spells. “It’s not magical, then?”
“It’s as magical as you make it, Kara.” His eyes are intense.
I study Marcus, still thrown by this shift in his attitude but determined not to let this new development shake me.
“Okay, what’s really going on here? Yesterday, you were ready to lock me in this room, and now you’re giving me your blessing?”
He runs a hand through his dark hair, and I catch a flash of frustration from him. “I realized something. You’re not just some witch rushing into danger – you’re a warrior. A protector. I’ve fought beside you, and you were as fearless and skilled as any soldier I’ve ever encountered. You have honor. I respect that.”
“And this revelation just hit you in the hour since we had our meeting?”
“No.” His eyes meet mine. “I’ve been watching you plan, strategize. The way you think through every angle, anticipate threats. It’s…” He clears his throat. “I was wrong to treat you like someone who needed sheltering.”
The admission catches me off guard. Vampires, especially ones as old as Marcus, aren’t exactly known for admitting mistakes.
“I let my feelings cloud my judgment,” he continues, then freezes as the word hangs between us.
My heart skips. “Your feelings?”
The air grows thick. I sense his internal struggle – the warrior’s discipline warring with something more personal, more intense.
“My feelings about…” He stops, jaw tightening. “About the mission. The situation.”
“Right,” I say, but we both know that’s not what he meant. “The situation.”
The ship lurches, and I stumble forward. Marcus catches me, his hands steady on my arms. The contact sends sparks through our connection, and I catch fragments of his thoughts – concern, desire, fear.
“Your feelings about what, Marcus?” I press, not stepping back even though I’ve regained my balance. His hands remain on my arms, burning through the thin fabric of my shirt.
“We might die tonight,” he deflects, but his grip tightens slightly. “This isn’t the time for—”
“For what? Honesty?” The boat rocks again, pressing us closer. My heart pounds frantically, and I know he can hear it. “If we might die tonight, isn’t this exactly the time?”
His jaw clenches. I feel his struggle – the words he wants to say warring with his self-control.
“Kara.” My name comes out rough, almost pained. “I can’t—”
“Can’t what?” I challenge, even as my defenses scream at me to back away, to maintain distance. But I’m tired of dancing around this thing between us.
The stateroom seems to shrink, leaving barely any space between us. His scent surrounds me – winter nights and ancient power.
“If I start,” he says, voice low and intense, “if I let myself feel everything that I—” He breaks off, pain flashing across his features. “I won’t be able to let you walk into danger again.”
The raw honesty in his voice twists something in my chest. Part of me wants to run, to hide behind my usual walls of sarcasm and independence. But another part, the part that responds to his touch, his presence, wants to tear down every barrier between us.
His last words hang between us, heavy with meaning. Before I can form a response, Marcus’s lips lock onto mine. The kiss is almost frantic, catching me completely off guard. My body responds before my mind can catch up, melting into him as the ship rocks beneath us.
His hands cup my face, and within him, I feel everything – his fear of losing me, his struggle against the intensity of what’s building between us, the depth of emotions he’s trying to contain.
It terrifies me.
I wrench away, stumbling back until I hit the desk. The crystals rattle behind me. My heart pounds so hard I can barely hear the waves slapping against the hull.
“Well,” I say, forcing a smirk I don’t feel, “if you wanted a quickie before the mission, you could have just asked. That’s what this is, isn’t it? One last roll in the hay before the big battle?”
The words feel wrong the moment they leave my mouth. Marcus goes completely still; I feel the sharp sting of hurt before his mental walls slam up. The temperature in the room seems to drop ten degrees.
