“Anything?”
His voice, so close, startled her. How he walked in those heavy boots without a sound, she had no idea.
“Nothing. Not even a hum,” she said. “I’m sorry.”
“Dammit, Eve, it’s here.” His tone held a harsh bite. “You’ve made up your mind it doesn’t exist, so it doesn’t. Do you think I don’t exist, too?”
“Oh, I know you exist, or else I wouldn’t be in here, committing a felony and nearly getting caught.”
“Don’t. My world being in peril is not something to take lightly.”
At his rebuke, she fell silent and bit her lip.
She was ashamed because a part of her didn’t want to believe in this scroll. Finding the Stone would make everything right in his world. Aerén had said it was the only way Empyrean couples could soul-join and have children again. And Reynner would find someone, too.
Her stomach hollowed at the thought. Not wanting to think about that, Eve forced herself to concentrate on her task. Slowly, she worked her way through the boxes, stroking them, once, twice—
“Dammit!” She snatched her hand back.
Reynner appeared at her side. “What is it?”
“Splinter—shh.” Ignoring his raised brow, she rested her palm on the lid again. A tingle darted through her hand, like a low-voltage electrical current. A sliver embedded in her finger wouldn’t do that. She ignored the sharp sting and ran her hand over the wooden surface of the small chest. The hum whizzed through her once more. “Something’s in here, if the buzzing in my hand is what you meant.”
Reynner stared at her, almost in disbelief. Then he moved and she hurriedly stepped aside, she didn't want to be railroaded by a huge Empyrean. He made quick work of unsealing the box. And nodded. “Take it.”
Eve picked up the old lead cylinder nestled inside the bubble wrap. She uncapped the tube and carefully eased out a yellowed, aged, parchment before dropping the tube back in the crate. The paper crackled between her fingers, and the humming whirred through her. Like flames, it spread through her blood and pooled between her thighs.
Whoa—what the heck?
Eve grabbed onto the nearest crate to steady herself, squirmed, and shifted on her feet. Unexplained arousal took her hard. No slow build-up. She sucked in air, tried to steady the rampant pounding of her heart. Clenching her aroused feminine parts just made it worse.
Nothing worked. Her gaze fell on Reynner as he substituted the replacement scroll and resealed the box. The man was dressed in leathers again and so damn hot. She wanted him. Heck, she had from the moment she’d first crashed into him. The scroll slipped from her limp fingers and fluttered to the floor.
Reynner turned and frowned. “Eve?”
She didn’t respond. She simply walked over, grabbed him by his shirt, and yanked him down, kissing him right there in the musty smelling room.
He went motionless.
A heartbeat.
Two.
Then he hauled her into his arms and took over, his tongue sweeping into her mouth. The taste of him was a punch to her gut. White-hot desire tore through her. She rubbed her sensitized body against his, her fingers tangling in his hair.
He picked her up, spun around and pressed her up against a stack of crates covered with sack, his groin grinding into her core as his mouth devoured hers. Her legs tightened around his hips.
Desire burned higher. She wanted his hands on her bare skin.
“More, I need more,” she whimpered against his mouth.
Lost in her need, she pulled his t-shirt free to slide her hands under the cotton fabric to caress his warm, muscled back. “I need you.”
“Eve—”
“Stop talking—” She wrapped his hair around her fists, keeping him there. She kissed him harder.
His hands dropped to her hips, holding her still. Lips lingered. Hands stroked her back, once, twice, and then he broke the kiss and held her in a tight embrace.
