Darkest Nyte Page 3

  For self-preservation, he must put aside thoughts of intimacy with her and focus on something else. Lucinda had suggested he sleep, but he was not ready to surrender consciousness again just yet. Wherever he’d been before she found him, his senses had been locked into darkness for a long time. He did not want to reenter that state so soon.

  A light thump sounded outside the door. He didn’t know what it was, but keen internal senses told him it was not an intruder. At least, not of the threatening kind.

  He pushed himself from the bed and pulled on his clothes, then walked to the door. Cautiously, he opened it and peered outside. Nothing untoward loomed in the dim illumination, so he stepped into the hallway. A murmur drew his attention to a narrow table against the wall. From underneath sauntered a slender black cat with large green eyes.

  He smiled. "Hello. Who are you?"

  The cat leaped onto the table and walked toward him. The vivid green eyes watched him intently as he reached out his hand to allow the animal to sniff him. Instead, the cat ducked its head under his palm and pushed up, effectively forcing him to pet it. Then it made a mewing sound and stepped forward to bump its furry head against his sweater-clad stomach.

  He scooped up the cat and scratched under its chin. It rewarded him with a loud purring sound, then climbed up his arm and draped itself over his shoulder.

  "You are a friendly beast, aren’t you?"

  He stroked the length of its long, glossy back. Something felt strangely familiar about the creature, but he couldn’t place what. Was it simply that he had an affinity for animals, or had he had a feline familiar in his past?

  "Come, little friend. Help me explore the home of your mistress." Perhaps that would be a good way to keep his mind off his desire for the lovely Lucinda. And it would be wise to familiarize himself with her house. It would give him knowledge that might be useful if he found himself--or Lucinda--in a dangerous situation.

  He smiled as he petted the creature and it purred heavily. "Feel free to point out any areas of particular interest." The cat mewed and bumped its head against his ear.

  He grinned indulgently. He had meant areas of the house, but the little fellow seemed more intent on where it wanted to be stroked.

  He strode down the hall but when he reached the top of the stairs, the cat pushed its paws against his chest and leaped to the floor. It mewed, then turned around and marched down the hall. It glanced over its shoulder as if to see if he was following. It mewed again, somewhat insistently. He followed as it led him toward a doorway. It stopped in front of the door and sat down, its green eyes fixed on him.

  Was this Lucinda's room? Thoughts of her sent his senses whirling. Memories of her wonderful womanly scent pervaded him. The soft feel of her body pressed against his, her hair sliding under his fingertips, made him long to touch her again.

  Damn, he had to find a way to overcome her resistance--and the sooner the better. He rubbed his chin. His persuasion must be gentle but firm. He smiled at the memory of her self-assured manner that so obviously thinned when he got close. His little one seemed desperate to remain in control--and he knew he must leave her with that illusion.

  His furry friend paced back and forth in front of the door, making a murring sound. He pushed open the door and peered into the darkened room. Lucinda lay curled up under puffy-looking covers, sleeping peacefully. His body urged him forward. Then the cat bumped its head against his calf, as though pushing him into the room.

  He stepped inside.

  His gaze returned to his sleeping woman. So what approach would convince his sweet Lucinda to succumb to her desire? Remembering how alluring she’d looked in that delicate bit of cloth she’d worn, he decided the direct approach would be best. He’d simply keep her off balance. Eventually, she would fall--right into his arms.

  He urged the cat out of the room with a gentle push, then closed the door behind it.

  * * * *

  Lucinda had finally drifted into a fitful sleep. Sometime during the night, she felt a draft, then something warm pressed against her back. She snuggled against it, sighing happily.

  Warmth embraced her. Her breasts swelled and the peaks tightened as heat permeated her body, pooling in her lower regions. Hunger spiraled through her vagina, longing for something she’d never known. A man’s hands covered her breasts and she arched against them, her nipples aching as they hardened into rigid nubs. She pressed her hands on the warm, strong fingers, pressing them harder onto her, wanting more.

  "Yes," she moaned softly.

  Warm, soft lips tugged on her earlobe and she drew in a slow breath, then rolled onto her back. The lips brushed her neck, then settled in the curve of her collarbone.

  "Yes," she sighed.

  The hands swept down her body, then caressed her inner thighs. She opened for him.

  "Yes," she invited.

  The hands stroked her private flesh, then a large, curled finger slipped between her lower lips and stroked inside her.

  "Yes!" she exclaimed.

  Exquisite sensations pulsed through her. Another finger slipped inside her, then a third. She rocked her pelvis forward, then back, pleasure catapulting through her. Lips, soft and moist, captured her nipple and the pleasure spiked, then intensified on a wave of heat. She fell on a spiral of pure bliss, held by strong, masculine arms, as she moaned in delight. The long ribbon of pleasure trailed to an end and she relaxed, sated.

  "Mmmm." She turned onto her side and snuggled against warm, hard satin.

  * * * *

  Light blazed against her eyelids and she scrunched them tighter together, hoping to block it out. Slowly, she drifted out of the slumber that cradled her, becoming aware of strong arms embracing her and her face resting against silken skin cushioning rock hard muscles. Something tickled her nose and she opened her eyes to see dark curls on a male chest.

  Her body stiffened.

  "Good morning." The words were spoken softly but in a definite male voice. The voice of the sexy stranger she’d discovered in Paris last night.

  "I ... you...." She pulled against his embrace but to no avail. "You shouldn’t be here."

  "Why not?"

  The feel of his skin pressed the length of hers threw her senses way off balance.

  "Well, it’s not proper." No, that didn’t come out right. "I mean, I don’t even know you."

  He kissed her forehead. "Of course you do. We met a few hours ago."

  "That’s not what I meant and you know it," she flared.

  She wiggled her arms between them and flattened her hands on his chest. His chest hair tickled her palms, but not in a way that made her want to laugh. The feel of it stimulated her senses to new heights.

  Oh, God, the dream. Had it really been a dream?

  "You can’t tell me you don’t want me here." He nuzzled her hair, sending sparks ricocheting through her.

  She wanted to push her hands against him, but her muscles refused to obey.

  "I don’t want you here." Her voice sounded weak. Please ... please ... please ... let it just have been a dream.

  He grinned. "Truthfully."

  His amusement annoyed her. "Look, if we’re going to work together, we’ll need to get a few things straight. Like, you don’t invade my private space. Okay?"

  "Private space?"

  "That’s right. For instance, stay out of my bedroom!" This time she did push against him, and he allowed her a few inches distance.

  "I guess that means your bed is strictly off limits."

  "That’s right!" She was pleased he was starting to understand, but worried at the look of smug confidence that still defined his features.

  He nuzzled her neck with his lips. "I guess that means I shouldn’t kiss you or touch your soft, inviting skin."

  Soft? Inviting? She’d never thought of her skin as anything but a blotter for the fancy moisturizers she used. His lips traveled to her ear and the wisps of air he puffed inside made her eyes quiver closed and her resistance ebb. His ha
nd stroked the nape of her neck and his fingers splayed through her hair. Why did it feel so marvelous when he touched her? Her nipples tightened and she longed for his hands on her. Again? The heat of a blush crept along her cheeks. She leaned against him, using his wonderful chest as support, his arm around her waist holding her gently.

  "Lucinda!"

  Rand?

  She gasped at the sound of the newcomer in the room. What was Rand doing here?

  She pushed away from the obnoxious, but all too inviting, man holding her. Scurrying to her feet, she glared accusingly at the man with no name who still occupied her bed, then swung around to face Randalph’s imposing figure. She caught sight of herself in the mirror behind him and suppressed a gasp. Her blond waves stuck out around her face like cotton candy caught in a strong breeze, and her oversized sweatshirt had shifted off one shoulder. She set the shirt straight and dragged her fingers through her hair in a futile effort to detangle the mess. Thank heavens she’d changed out of that stupid camisole set before she’d climbed into bed the second time last night.

  "Don’t you ever knock?" Exasperation edged her words and Rand eyed her speculatively. He kept his gaze firmly away from the bed she’d just fled, pointedly not looking at the man lying there. At least Rand allowed her that privacy.

  "Would you have heard me?" he asked.

  Probably not, she thought, embarrassed by how far she’d been drawn into a sensual abyss.

  When she didn’t answer, he continued in a hurried fashion. "You know I don’t usually barge in, but I must consult with you on a matter of great urgency."

  Anxiety curled the edges of her stomach. It was true that Rand normally did not intrude. This must be important.

  "Fine. I’ll meet you downstairs in ten minutes."

  She watched as Rand nodded, then spun around to face the door and strode from the room, his cape swirling around his ankles. Lucinda turned back to face her other guest and saw him staring at the door, a fierce expression on his face. When he realized she was watching him, his features settled back into their usual pattern of confident ease.

  "A friend of yours?" he asked blandly.

  "Yes. Randalph is a very good friend."

  His eyebrows drew together. "How good?"

  Her attention perked up at the demanding tone in his voice. "That’s none of your business."

  "On the contrary, it’s very much my business."

  She planted her hands firmly on her hips and glared at him.

  "I don’t have to explain anything to you! Now, I’m going to get dressed."

  When he settled back against the pillows, his hands behind his head, clearly ready to watch, she froze for a split second as a persuasive voice deep inside her coaxed. Go ahead. Strip off your clothes. Do it slowly and seductively. Show him yours, then he’ll show you his. And, oh, how lovely it would be to see his again.

  She swallowed, then added, "I want you to leave."

  He shrugged. Throwing back the covers, he revealed his long, muscular body covered only by black briefs. Her gaze crept down his thighs despite her effort to stop it, watching his muscles ripple as he carelessly swung his legs over the side of the bed and stood up. Knowing she shouldn’t be staring, she slid her focus to his face, but the landscape along the way fascinated her so much it was a slow journey. Of course, she’d already seen him naked, but the fact that he now wore something, even though those briefs were brief, allowed her to look a little more thoroughly than last time. His slim waist broadened to a massive chest of clean lines formed by well-defined musculature. His long, dark hair trailed loosely over his shoulders, halfway to his waist. When she finally reached his face, her breathing had become a little ragged and, judging by his cocky grin, he knew it.

  He returned the favor by starting a slow perusal of her. She watched his gaze slide down her frame and she stood stock-still, suddenly conscious of what she wore. Certainly her loose grey sweatshirt wasn’t very revealing, as far as it went, but it stopped well short of her knees. In fact, it barely covered her pink lace panties and left her legs exposed to his scrutiny. She found herself hoping he’d find them worth a second look.

  What’s wrong with me? I don’t want him taking a second look.

  Did she?

  He strode toward her and tipped her head up to meet his gaze, his hand cupping her chin.

  "I’ll go now, Lucinda. You talk with your friend, then you and I will talk."

  He released her, and she watched him leave. As she stood staring at the door, she wondered how her life could be thrown into such turmoil over the course of a few short hours.

  * * * *

  Randalph paced, impatiently waiting for Lucinda to join him in the living room. He shouldn’t have barged in on her like he had, but he’d been so intent on his mission, he hadn’t thought about the possibility that she’d be entertaining an overnight guest, especially of the male variety. For all her boldness and adventurous spirit, he’d truly believed his Lucinda to be innocent when it came to men.

  But there she’d been, in the arms of some hulking male. As soon as he’d caught sight of the broad masculine shoulders, he’d kept his gaze away from the bed, not wanting to make an embarrassing situation worse.

  He stepped toward the window and dragged back the curtain, staring out at the clear blue, cloudless sky.

  Ah, well, Lucinda would get over it. Right now, he had to speak with her.

  Last night, he had felt his presence again. At first, he’d thought it was just a bad dream, then an overwhelming certainty had spiked him to wakefulness.

  Nyte had returned.

  Heaven help them all!

  Rand’s apprehension had been growing over the hours, as if Nyte were getting closer. In fact, ever since arriving at Lucinda’s house, the feeling had become almost unbearable.

  Lucinda crept down the stairs, watching Rand stare out the window. If only she could grab a cup of coffee before having to deal with him, but her hopes of sneaking into the kitchen in search of caffeine dissipated when Rand turned and fixed her with his crystal blue stare.

  Her hand leapt to the crystal she wore around her neck. Her fingers traced the bottom arc of the smooth, tapered pendant. She’d chosen rutilated tourmaline--clear tourmaline with black fibers of rutile crystal meandering through it in a glittering pattern--because she needed something to help her stay centered and calm. The day promised to be full of turmoil.

  "Lucinda, I’m sorry I walked in on that, but I didn’t realize ... I mean...."

  She met his gaze, searching for any sign of jealously. To her surprise, she found none.

  Rand waved his hands back and forth. "Never mind." He clasped his hands behind his back and paced. "Something has come up. I have to find someone."

  Concern lurched through Lucinda. Rand was never unsure of himself and rarely apologized for anything. Actually, he rarely did anything that required apology. Walking in on her unannounced was not a usual occurrence. It always signified something urgent.

  "Who, Rand?" She watched him pace the length of her living room.

  "You don’t know him but he’s...." Again Rand hesitated.

  "An old friend?"

  He glared at her, his nostrils flaring. "No! Certainly no friend of mine!"

  His vehemence startled her. "Is he one of us?"

  His expression relaxed a little. "Yes, he is a wizard."

  "Then I must know him." Only a couple dozen wizards existed in the world and they all knew each other.

  "No. He’s been out of touch for a very long time."

  "What do you mean ‘out of touch’?"

  "It’s a long story and I don’t have time right now--"

  Annoyance flickered through her. "Wait a minute," Lucinda interrupted. "You’re saying there’s a wizard around that I’ve never met, a situation that I personally believe is impossible, and you think you can leave it at that?" She jammed her hands on her hips and frowned at him. "I don’t think so."

  Rand sighed. "I will tell you.
Just not right now."

  She glared at him, willing him to speak up, but his determined expression made it clear she wouldn’t get the story now.

  "Okay, so at least tell me why you think it’s going to be difficult to find him, since you seem to think he’s no longer ‘out of touch.’"

  Rand shrugged. "His personality signature is weak, so I can’t pinpoint him."

  Another mystery. Great. Well, at least it was Rand’s to sort out this time. Unless... Why had he come here? "Rand, did you want my help?"

  "No!" he snapped, then drew in a deep breath and continued in a calmer voice. "Luce, this is something I need to do myself. I just wanted to let you know I’d...."

  Rand’s voice trailed off and his eyes flared wide. She swung around to see her overnight guest strolling down the stairs, fully dressed, his gorgeous hair drawn back from his face.

  "What the hell are you doing here?" Rand roared.

  Lucinda’s gaze flew back to Rand and her eyes widened. Good heavens, he’d moved into battle stance!

  He raised his arm. He was going to send a projectile at her guest!

  Lunging at Rand, she slammed his arm out of the way. She’d been on the receiving end of one of those a couple of years ago and she didn’t want to be again--but she would not allow him to harm anyone under her protection.

  "What are you doing?" she shrieked. "Why are you attacking my guest?"

  "Your guest?" Rand demanded. He glanced at her and then at the man calmly lounging against the banister at the bottom of the staircase. "Was this the man upstairs in your bed? Good Lord, Lucinda, you didn’t sleep with him, did you?"

  She barely noticed the look of horror on his face as she flushed hotly.

  "Rand." Her voice growled in a low warning. She didn’t understand Rand this morning. He’d never crossed these unspoken boundaries before, even when he’d been bursting with curiosity about her and Death.

  He clutched her hand. "Luce, I know it’s none of my business, but this is different. Don’t you know who this is?"