18
Clio had completely forgotten why she was supposed to seduce him. Something about discovering his secrets. But secrets didn’t matter when she was drowning in delicious need. Power pooled in her core, liquid and molten and beyond her control. The silken glide of Thomas’ velvet tongue swiped over her slit, and she cried out.
‘So fucking delicious.’ His words vibrated against raw nerve endings, scattering a million sparks through her veins.
He delved deeper, so close to the cluster of nerves where ecstasy waited. And then in a fiery swipe, he found her secret centre, and she burned in an inferno.
‘Goddess… yes!’ She writhed, wanting to bury her fingers in his hair, needing to push him harder against her, desperate to ride him, wrap her body around his like a siren pulling him into her depths. But she couldn’t do any of that. The leather ties cut into her wrist, and the bite was as delicious as his teeth scraping her clitoris. She could do nothing but feel. It was glorious. It was torture. It was everything.
He flicked and nipped. Sucked and licked. Wet need washed through her, soaking into her soul.
She felt the hard penetration of his thick finger, pushing past swollen flesh into her tight cove. His sweet invasion only heightened the tension coiling inside, heating like glass, ready to shatter.
He sucked her clitoris harder, his finger curling as her channel clenched in aching spasms. Her world imploded into a supernova as she screamed his name.
Clio came back to herself in slow degrees. The bed hadn’t burned into charred cinders, so that was a relief. One of her legs fell free as Thomas untied her, then the other. When he unbound her right wrist, he rubbed it gently, then leaned over her to release the last leather strap. Before he could pull away, she caught him, wrapping her arms around his chest and pulling him against her. His linen shirt scratched against her naked flesh.
‘Hold me.’ It wasn’t a request. It was a command.
Thomas’ rough chuckle unwound some of the tension still coiled within her. The solid weight of him held her steady, reminding Clio she was flesh and bones, not just flames and ash.
She could feel the hard ridge of his desire. The poor man had tended to her needs without seeking his own relief. A problem she would happily remedy.
‘Are you well?’ His deep voice rumbled against her ear.
‘I am… remarkably well.’ She gave in to temptation, her fingers tangling in his thick hair as his flat chest pressed against hers. Heartbeat against heartbeat.
And then the vision took her.
She was in a room. Not a bedroom. A sitting room. It was a bright summer day, and the windows had been opened to relieve the staggering heat. Thomas sat on a settee in cream breeches, a blue coat, and white shirt. He looked young, and handsome, and devastated. His elbows were braced on his knees, and he held his head in his hands.
‘What the bloody hell is this?’
Clio turned to her right as alarm, bright and sharp, zinged through her. Because Thomas also stood next to her. Not the memory, the reality. Older. Harder. Far more devastating to her heart.
Clio parted her lips but couldn’t speak. He was in her vision. With her. Standing on the edges of his own memory as it played out before them. It was impossible.
Lissa walked in front of them, her sprigged muslin gown almost brushing over Clio’s bare feet. ‘I’m sorry, Thomas. I know you didn’t want things to be this way, but I won’t be denied a family because of your failing.’ She stopped in front of where Past-Thomas sat on the couch.
Clio realised she was still naked and crossed her arms over her chest, horribly exposed in front of Lissa and two Thomases, even if only one Thomas could see her.
Real-Thomas turned to Clio, his eyes darting over her naked body. Gone was any hint of desire. In its place was fear and quickly growing anger. He whipped his shirt over his head and handed it to her. After she donned it, grateful for some kind of shield, he grabbed her arm. ‘Whatever sorcery this is, you must stop it. Now, Clio.’ His rage dissolved into unhinged panic. ‘I beg you.’ His voice broke on the last word as he darted his gaze to his other self sitting on the settee.
Clio’s heart cracked. Because she would have pulled them from this private moment if she could. It wasn’t hers to witness. But she had never been able to control when her visions came, or when they ended. ‘I can’t. It must play itself out…’
Past-Thomas looked up at Lissa. Tears streaked down his face, and his lips trembled before he pressed them tightly together. ‘You are…’ He cleared his throat, wiping the wetness from his cheeks with the back of his hand. ‘You are certain?’
Lissa nodded, her bright hair catching the sun and shining like a halo. ‘It’s been three months since my last courses. And there are other… signs. I’m pregnant, Thomas.’ Though her voice was serious, it was impossible to miss the joy shining in her eyes. The glow of love suffusing her skin. ‘I’m going to be a mother. Finally.’
Past-Thomas stood. He pulled down his vest and straightened his shoulders like a soldier preparing to enter the fray. ‘And you’ve gone to the courts?’
She put her hand on his sleeve, but he jerked away as though her touch burned him. ‘It’s the only way. How is any other option fair to me? I am not at fault here, Thomas. I don’t deserve to be punished because of you.’
Anger washed through Clio. She stepped forward, sparks tingling in her palm. She’d never tried to push her power at the memory of a person. Not until this moment. Lifting her hand, the embers turned into a fireball of blue and white. ‘How dare you!’ she hissed.
Lissa’s gaze remained steady on Past-Thomas. Because she couldn’t see Clio. Nor could Clio’s power have any effect on a woman encapsulated in a memory. But that was no reason not to try. Clio pulled back her arm and, like cracking a whip, she threw her magic at Lissa.
The room disappeared in a swirl of colour, and the sweet scent of summer roses dissolved into the acrid smoke of burning paint. Clio stumbled back, blinked several times, and realised the screen protecting Sir Robin was on fire.
