Smoke and Mirrors (26 page)

“No, I think I can handle myself.”

Rieva’s smile widened, eyes sparkling with mirth as she gave them both a sarcastic salute. “In that case, I’ll leave you two lovebirds be. Come see me anytime.”

Cormac’s eyes stayed locked on Rieva as she turned away, sauntering toward the labyrinth of furniture that led out to the street. Though Kimberly was listening for it, she didn’t hear the jingle of the bell over the door or the snap of the wards letting someone pass through, only the light, steady patter of rain.

He didn’t appear to be worried they might have a lingering audience. After a moment passed, the tension in his body eased away, and his grip shifted from possessive to supportive in the blink of an eye. Burying his nose in her hair, he breathed deep, then exhaled on a shuddering sigh.

“That woman,” he said, “is going to drive me insane.”

Sliding her arms around his waist, she leaned into him, closing her eyes as she sank into the protection of his arms. “She’s not so bad. Not like I thought before.”

“I know. I just don’t approve of her trying to take you away from me.”

Frowning, she leaned back to peer up at him. “What do you mean? I’m not going anywhere.”

He made a deep sound that vibrated in his chest, rumbling over her skin and making her shiver. Lowering his head again, he rubbed his cheek against hers as his grip tightened once more.

“Maybe I’m being foolish,” he said, “but I want you all to myself. Let’s go get you that shower, hmm? Before I forget that you’re still recovering.”

She nodded, then gave a little cry of surprise before laughing as he swept her off her feet into his arms. He grinned down at her, then jerked his chin at the things Rieva had brought. “Grab those, will you?”

Sticking her tongue out at him for manhandling her, she did as he asked, grabbing the bags and the two covered cups of coffee, cradling everything in her lap. Balancing the cups on top of everything else with one hand, she slung an arm around his neck, feet dangling as he carried her back up the stairs.

By the time they reached the top of the second flight, he wasn’t sweating or even breathing hard to give any hint that he had any difficulty carrying her. She was impressed and maybe even a little turned on by the show of strength. Not to mention his overprotective, albeit sweet, interest in her.

Rieva was right. She really needed to thank Sam.

For once in her life, Kimberly had no worries about what the future held.

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

Kimberly had looked both relieved and a little disappointed that Cormac left her to shower and get dressed by herself. For a long moment, after she set everything down on the kitchen counter and he let her slide down the length of his body until she was steady on her feet, he savored the feel of her against him. That warmth that was just for him.

He was certain the moment he gave in to the urge to kiss her again, he wouldn’t be able to stop there. He would take everything she was so willing to give.

That’s when he knew he had to bring things to a halt. He pulled away, lowering his head as he led her to the bathroom, leaving her with a mountain of towels and a shower big enough for an army platoon. He’d ignored her confusion and disappointment, making sure she had everything she needed before he left her to shower in peace.

She managed to handle the necessities on her own, though she must have been exhausted by the time she finished drying her hair and shrugging into the set of pajamas Rieva had brought for her.

Despite knowing he should keep his distance, Cormac got concerned when she didn’t answer his knock after she’d been in there for a while. He cracked the door open, ready with a cheesy joke about her falling in, when he spotted her slumped on the toilet, snoring away.

With a quiet chuckle, he picked Kimberly up and carried her back to the bed, tucking her in.

While a part of him cursed that she’d stayed awake long enough to dress herself, he was also relieved. He would have been too tempted to peel the clothes off again had she been awake. The green satin material of the pajamas matched her eyes and reflected a lovely luster in her reddish-brown hair, hugging her curves in a way that stoked the already considerable flames in his blood. The changeling had good taste; he’d give her that.

He sat beside her on the bed as she slept, wanting to touch her but not quite daring, waiting for her to wake. As badly as he was crawling out of his skin with the need to clear his head with the thin, cold air above the clouds, the lingering worry that she would wake, alone and afraid, kept him grounded.

He had been ready and eager to take advantage of Kimberly’s interest and growing warmth, but as he carried her up those steps to the apartment, sensed the fragility of her slender frame and the way her heart pounded with budding excitement, an attack of conscience nearly paralyzed him. The trusting way she peered up at him when he set her down had been his undoing.

She deserved to know what he was before she gave so much of herself to him. All it took was one look into her bright green eyes, to see how hopeful she was, to cut straight through to his heart and make him feel like the biggest heel in history.

It was that very thought—the he would be taking advantage of her—that led to his decision to let her shower and dress alone. Judging by his own considerable desire, he wasn’t sure enough of himself to trust that he could leave her untouched should he join her. Sending Rieva away had been a mistake.

It appeared that he was utterly incapable of rational thought where Kimberly was concerned. The uncertainty of his future with her, the possibility that she might leave him, was playing havoc with his instincts to hunt, to control, and to possess. That wasn’t how to go about proving he cared about her. He knew it. Rationally. The irrational part wanted to spread its wings and carry her away, take her to the real lair, the place he kept all his precious things.

He hoped and prayed that she would still want him once he told her the truth. There was no way he could put it off any longer. If he did, he risked hurting her so much more than he had already.

Though a part of him trembled at the thought of her reaction—him, the monster who had ruled nations, the fiend to whom kings bent their knees, the behemoth who made lesser beasts tremble in his shadow—he would tell her the moment she woke. He wasn’t sure how just yet, but he needed to make things right between them without destroying her sweet innocence. He needed to be worthy of that trust she put in him.

That’s when the idea came to him.

Some hours passed, as did the mild spring rain.

She yawned and stretched, her eyelids fluttering open, and all the calm he’d managed to muster as he stood guard over her had flown out the window. Groaning, he took her hand, pulling it to his brow as he bent over her. The inevitable moment had arrived.

It was entirely possible that he could lose her, and there was not a damned thing with all of his knowledge and power that he could do to stop her from leaving.

“What’s wrong?” she asked between yawns. “Sorry, I was so tired…”

He had to collect himself. Keep it together. He took a deep breath to steady himself, then another, before he answered her.

“Nothing. Nothing, love. I just have something very important to show you. I’ve been putting this off too long as it is.”

She rolled onto her side, regarding him with heavy-lidded eyes. He brushed some of the hair out of her face, then lightly ran his thumb over her lip. She shivered, her tongue creeping out to slide over where he’d just touched.

Cupping her cheek, he took a measure of courage in the way she looked at him. That desire and trust had to count for something.

“What is it?” she asked.

“The dragon.”

That had her bolting upright. “Wait, Cormac, I’m not ready, I need to get dressed—”

He couldn’t suppress a smile at her mix of excitement and dread. “Relax, you’re fine.”

She shook her head, her hair flying about her face and bouncing around her shoulders. It was all he could do not to laugh at her frantic efforts to simultaneously scramble to her feet, grab the pile of neatly folded clothes on the bedside table, and finger-brush her hair. His hands shot out to catch her before she fell off the side of the bed.

“Stop worrying. Take as much time as you need.”

Flushing right down to her toes, she paused, putting a hand over her eyes. “Okay. I can do this. I’m fine. I just need a minute.”

He was tempted to pull her right back under the covers and distract all the worries right out of her head. With no small measure of regret, he loosened his grip on her. He’d rather not have her fretting about whatever impression she thought she might be making with her appearance. He wanted her as calm as possible, even if it was inevitable even in the best case scenario that she was going to be furious with him.

His gaze followed her as she got up, swaying and a tad unsteady, then grabbed the pile of clothes and rushed into the bathroom.

Folding his hands behind his head, he laid back on the bed, waiting for her to finish getting ready. Laying down didn’t help the knots in his stomach or the heaviness in his chest. His usual calm was cracking and he had no idea what to do about it.

When she emerged several minutes later, his heart leapt and a rumbling sound of approval escaped him as he sat up.

“I wasn’t sure if I should do makeup or not,” she said, pointing to her face as if the change weren’t immediately obvious. The slight lengthening of her lashes, dash of color to her eyes, lips, and cheeks, and the shine to her hair made her positively luminous. Added to the dark green silk shirt, black slacks, and kitten heels Rieva had brought her, he could see why she was so off balance. She looked like a completely different person.

He rolled to his feet and prowled closer, dipping his head to breathe in her scent as he wrapped his arms around her. “You were already perfect in my eyes.”

Her blush practically singed his skin, she grew so hot. Grinning, he pressed a light kiss to her temple in response to her stammered thanks.

“Don’t forget that after this meeting, hmm?”

“How could I?” she asked, smiling.

He shook his head and took her arm, leading her out of the apartment. His own heart was pounding nearly as fast as hers.

Rather than take her down the stairwell to his shop, this time he took her up a flight to the rooftop. She was very nearly vibrating with excitement at his side, her hands tightly clutching his arm. Her nervousness was palpable, a taste on the air, toying with the hungers and instincts simmering under the surface of his skin.

The brisk April air cut through the haze in his thoughts, bringing him out of his single-minded focus and back to the present. He held the door for her, gesturing for her to precede him.

She looked all around, probably wondering where the dragon was hiding. Not that there was anywhere for one to conceal itself on the rooftop. Save for the heating and air conditioning unit and the access door, it was all one big, open space, spotted with a few shrinking puddles. There was a deck near the door with a lone chair set beside a small garden; mostly herbs like what she’d seen in the store downstairs. The rest of the rooftop was covered in some kind of deeply scarred, slate-gray metal set with a few glyphs meant to protect and strengthen the structure of the building.

Fearing her probable reaction, he grabbed the chair and set it down against the side of the gabled structure of the roof access, gesturing for her to take a seat. She shot him a questioning look, but did as he bid.

As soon as she was seated, he knelt before her, clasping her hands in his. She bit her lip, meeting his gaze as he intently stared up at her.

“Kimberly, before I summon the dragon, promise me one thing.”

“Anything. You’ve already done so much…” She trailed off as he shook his head.

“Promise that you’ll give me a chance to explain. After.”

Her puzzlement grew, tilting her head as little furrows appeared between her brows. Blowing out a breath, he shook his head again and released her hands, moving backward on the rooftop.

A small, niggling pain in his heart burrowed deeper as her puzzlement shifted to panic as he spread his arms and began to change. He shifted slow, the skin of his bare chest darkening and jeans melting away, disappearing under the sprouting scales. Spines sprouted from his forehead, hair and spine, along with great bulges growing between his shoulder blades.

Her green eyes were locked on him, growing wider and wider as he grew bigger and bigger.

She scrambled out of the chair as his forelegs fell forward, talons settling with a series of chiming clacks on the metal and sending a tremble through the rooftop that made the plants and puddles shiver. The glyphs etched into the metal took the bulk of his weight, distributing it, preventing him from collapsing the building beneath his tremendous frame.

Free of that constricting skin-suit, with the use of all his senses and the taste of his city on his forked tongue once more, he squirmed with discomfort. His tail lashed and wings quivered as he spread and stretched them in an attempt to shrug off the lingering sensation of being the lowest, slimiest of salamanders, belly-deep in swamp muck. Even his scales couldn’t protect him from the pain slicing deep in his chest at the way she looked at him now.