At her irritation, his anger seemed to deflate. He crossed to her and gently stroked her cheek. “Don’t you know, you already have,a leannan? A touch and you gave me life again.”
His words melting her ire, she rested her face on his chest and wrapped her arms around his waist.
“I will find another way to break this cursed binding, I promise. But I need to know you’ll be safe. Don’t try anything foolish.” He pulled back, his gaze stern. She knew what he meant:Don’t give him his soul without his knowledge.
“Promise me, Darci?”
At his insistence, and with little choice, she sighed. “Okay, fine, I won’t.”For now.
He cupped her face. “You’re my life. Don’t take that away from me. We will find a way out of this. Trust me.”
Within seven days? How would they?
Chapter 28
Darci opened her eyes,squinting at the midday sunlight streaming into the bedroom. Her body trapped against a warm, breathing wall with limbs. And fingers that caressed her breast. Her breath hitched. Sleep cleared in a heartbeat as his mouth settled on her nape and nipped her skin.
Shifting, she turned and found Blaéz watching her. Her chest swelled with love, it spread from her heart and saturated her very being. God, she wanted every day to be like this, to awaken every morning with him.
But the hopelessness of their situation hit her hard. The conduit disc The Morrigan had given her hung like a millstone around her neck because Blaéz would never accept his soul, not when he knew what that meant for her. Worse, the disc didn’t have a long shelf life, just a week. One week. At the thought, pain suffocated her.
“Blaéz—”
“No.” He cut her off. “We’re good. Everything is as it should be.” Obviously, he knew what she planned on saying. He changed the subject. “You have that engagement party to attend tonight, right?”
“I don’t care about that!” The words burst out of her. “Blaéz, that demon is desperate to get at you—he won’t wait for the next blood moon. Please, please accept your soul, we’ll find another way for me.”
He pulled back. All the warmth in his eyes from moments ago disappeared, leaving them stony. “You think I’m that weak? After I fought off the bastard for three and a half millennia?”
She sat up, anxious to get through to him. “I’m not questioning your strength—God, Blaéz, listen to me—”
“No. And don’t ask me again.” He pushed off the bed and stalked toward the bathroom, shutting the door.
Darci slumped back on her pillow and stared at the vaulted ceiling. She didn’t want to fight with him, but it was so damn hard. If he didn’t take his soul, then he left her with little choice.
Burdened with her guilt, she dragged herself from the bed and shuffled to the bathroom filled with the sound of rustling water. Blaéz stood in the misty shower cubicle, a tall, motionless silhouette, his fists braced on the tiles, head lowered as the water beat down on him.
As if sensing her, he looked over his shoulder. Even with the foggy glass between them, the intensity of his stare stroked her like one big caress. Heart heavy, she made for the sink.
“Darci.”
Just her name in his lightly accented voice, and like a hypnotic lure, she could do little but turn. And found him holding the shower door open.
When she didn’t move, he stepped out of the stall, water running down his hard, muscled body. God, but the man was pure sex. It made her body melt into a puddle, made her want to lick every drop off him. He pulled off her nightshirt, tossed it aside and swept her off her feet.
Desperately needing to forget, if only for a while, Darci kissed him. A low rumble of approval left him and he took over. His tongue sweeping into her mouth, he stepped back into the rustling shower…
* * *
Later that evening, Darci stood in front of the open closet, not really seeing the clothes in there. She didn’t have the heart to go to Irina’s party, but Blaéz had insisted after he’d gotten back from whatever errand he had in the city. He wanted everything to be normal.
Would things ever be that way again?
Taking a deep breath, she shut it all out as best as she could, determined to enjoy this evening with him.
She pulled up her hair and with a few twists, secured it into a topknot. Selecting a matte gold, sleeveless cocktail dress from the closet, she wiggled into it, zipped up the low V back then smoothed the fabric of the bandage-style dress over her hips. She skipped the stockings and stepped into matching stilettoes, then brushed on mascara before applying a tinted cherry lip-balm. There. All done.
Movement at the doorway caught her eye. She wheeled around, teetering on her heels. And gaped.
