Darkest Nyte Page 7

  Obviously, her task of training Nyte had to do with far more than magic. Tomorrow, on the way home from work, she would pick up a selection of magazines that would educate Nyte about the world.

  Chapter 5

  "The first thing you have to do is believe that magic exists."

  Lucinda sat in the armchair facing Nyte as he lounged on the couch.

  "Then," she continued, "you must believe you can do it."

  He shrugged. "I do."

  She stood up and strolled to the fireplace, checking the supply of wood in the box on the hearth. Half full.

  "You may think you do, but I’m talking about a deep-down, believe-it-from-the-depths-of-your-soul kind of belief. It’s not that easy. The average person knows magic doesn’t exist, so for them it doesn’t. Even if they witness a feat of magic, they usually find a way to explain it away. Hypnotism. Illusion. Special effects."

  He smiled. "That may be true, but I’m not the average person."

  She certainly couldn’t argue with that. There was nothing average about Nyte: not his looks, not his confidence, not his effect on her.

  "Okay, but even if you think you believe it, you may fight the belief. For many, the idea of magic adds a feeling of instability to their otherwise safe, secure world. A feeling that things are not as substantial as they seem."

  "Which, of course, they aren’t." He planted his hands on his knees and leaned forward. "I do believe, Lucinda. I have already experienced your magic. I’m ready to move on to the next lesson."

  She sighed. Clearly, he would be an impatient student.

  "All right. The next step is to understand the energy flow through your body and to learn to control it."

  She stepped toward him. "Stand up."

  He stood and, as his body unfolded before her and his broad chest loomed in front of her, her heart accelerated in a pittery-pattery sort of way.

  "Turn around," she said, her voice less assertive than she’d intended.

  She held her hands slightly above his spine, about midway down his back, and felt the tingle of his energy field. She allowed her hands to drift away from each other, following the flow of energy to his shoulders. It felt extremely powerful, laced with magical potential. Like a magnet, it drew her toward him. She eased forward as her hands drifted down his back, reveling in the positive current emanating from him.

  Warm. Enticing. Drawing her closer. She felt the soft wool of his sweater against her cheek.

  The unexpected physical contact startled her. She jerked away. Good heavens, she must be losing it.

  He turned toward her. "Don’t stop, little one. Whatever you were doing, it felt marvelous." He linked hands with her, his fingers wrapping her in gentle warmth.

  "I was sensing the energy flow through your body." If she felt a bit more stable, she would draw away, but the feel of his hand surrounding hers was too inviting to abandon just yet. She couldn’t help it. She liked being touched by him.

  "Energy? Like the electricity that powers your lights?"

  "In a way."

  It wasn’t the best analogy, but it would do for now. She certainly couldn’t come up with anything better in her current muddled state.

  "So what would happen if you and I allowed our energy fields to mingle?" He drew her close and the nearness of his body sent her pulse thrumming. "If we form a circuit, what will we turn on?"

  Turn on? Heat flooded through her at the thought of she and Nyte ... mingling. She knew darned well what--or more precisely, whom--would be turned on. And so did he!

  She tugged her hand free. "I think you should learn about your own energy field before you start wondering how to adapt to others."

  Putting some distance between them would be a good idea, but her feet seemed rooted to the floor.

  "Now, as I was saying. Every being has a flow of energy through their body. To work magic, you draw from the universal energy and direct it through your flow. As you work with this energy, your own flow becomes stronger and healthier, and your natural capacity grows."

  If he weren’t so close, she might be able to breathe easier.

  "During this training, I’ll teach you how to direct the energy and during the process you will grow in your ability to handle it."

  His thumb caressed the back of her hand with short, delicate strokes that seemed to directly affect her breathing.

  "You’re saying the more I work with it, the more I can do."

  "That’s right. It’s like lifting weights. You need to build muscle as you push yourself to lift larger amounts."

  She rested her free hand on his chest. "Your energy field is quite strong."

  The tingling in her fingertips acted like an irresistible force, drawing her other hand to rest beside the first. Heat rippled through her and she reveled in the liquid vitality. It pulsed through her, enlivening her, enticing her closer. He’d become one giant, masculine magnet, and she was helpless against the attraction.

  She leaned toward him and his arms slipped around her. He drew her against his chest, holding her with such sweet tenderness that she couldn’t bear to break away. In fact, she delighted in the warmth of his breath caressing her temple, the steady beat of his heart against her ear, and the delicious feel of his energy pulsing through her.

  He cupped her face in his hands and drew her head up. He gazed at her with eyes the color of the midnight sky on a moonless night. As he slowly lowered his lips to hers, some small resistance clamored inside her, but she could barely hear it over the bombardment of her senses.

  She wanted this. She needed this. The primal urge to join with him, to experience the sharing of their energy in the most fundamental way possible overwhelmed her. His lips touched hers and energy flooded her in a wild torrent. Swept away by the frenetic electrical storm thundering between them, she threw her arms around his neck and clung to him. Her breasts crushed against his chest, her nipples two tight points of white-hot need. A flame ignited inside her vagina and seared along the inside walls. She seemed to be melting from the inside out as hot moisture pooled at her base, preparing for him.

  It was too intense. Too fast. She felt out of control and that frightened her. The frantic desire surging through her threatened to dislodge her from the world of sanity. Beyond the chasm lay the unknown, with potential dangers too great to risk.

  "Nyte," she gasped against his lips, her voice an octave lower than usual.

  He drew back an inch, his midnight gaze searing hers. "What is it, sweetheart?"

  "I ... we ... can’t do this. It’s...." She sucked in a breath of air. "It’s too much."

  He stared at her for long seconds, his scrutiny fixed on her eyes. With all the willpower she could muster, she held his gaze, hoping she didn’t look as dazed as she felt.

  He slid his hands to her upper arms. "All right."

  As he eased her away, part of her screamed its need to stay in his arms, to continue what they’d barely begun, but she held onto her resolve. He held her steady, which was a good thing, because her balance had been thrown off kilter so badly, she would have stumbled without his support.

  She blinked, surprised he’d given in so easily. She’d thought she would have a fight on her hands, a fight she would be sorely in danger of losing.

  She eased away from him and slumped onto the couch. She clutched her glass of pop, welcoming the icy cold pervading her palms.

  He’d always had a riotous effect on her, but why had it been so much stronger this time? Somehow, in sensing his flow, she had aligned their energies, opening a floodgate between them. She would have to be terribly careful in the future because, now open, the deluge could sweep her away to catastrophe.

  "I’m sorry. I’ve never done anything like that before," she murmured, staring at her hands.

  He settled beside her on the couch, then took one of her hands in his own and squeezed it in a reassuring manner.

  "I know. It’s all right, little one."

  She shook her head. "I don’t thro
w myself at men, and I don’t believe in casual sex."

  Nyte cupped his hands around her face and turned her so he could gaze into her wide, blue eyes. In quiet, deliberate words, he said, "There would be nothing casual about our lovemaking."

  The thought of joining with Lucinda ignited Nyte’s desire once more. The gut-wrenching desire he’d been fighting so valiantly. The desire that had raged through him since Lucinda had first touched him with her magic hands. The desire he had to fight, because she had asked him to.

  And he’d been winning, too.

  It didn’t help when she flicked her tongue around the edges of her lips, leaving them glistening and dewy. His groin felt heavy with need and he wanted to lower his face to hers, to capture her soft lips again and let passion flare.

  But he wouldn’t.

  As he stared at her dazed blue eyes, he wondered why he held back. She had been ready, willing. She had fallen into his arms just as he’d hoped. True, she had balked at the intensity, but he could have encouraged her through it, with firm, reassuring words and a gentle touch. Then she would have joined with him and they would both know the unparalleled joy of bonding.

  But he couldn’t do it. It would have been catching her off guard. Ambushing her. He wanted her fully cognizant of her decision to make love with him, to complete the bond.

  He wanted her to want him.

  Besides, he couldn’t take advantage of her vulnerability.

  She stared at him uncertainly, then cleared her throat. "I’d better go check on dinner."

  * * * *

  Lucinda knew she had to do something about Nyte’s amnesia.

  She set dinner on the table and, as they ate, she sat contemplating the problem. He’d probably get his memory back naturally given time, but she was anxious to find out what had happened to him, and she wanted some answers to the questions Rand kept raising.

  After dinner they moved to the living room. Lucinda used the brass poker to shift a log on the fire Nyte had started before dinner. Bright sparks flared as the log tumbled sideways.

  She settled into the green recliner beside the couch. The fire blazed cheerfully, the light reflecting warmly off Merlin’s coat. The fuzz ball had found his usual spot on the hearth and curled into a tight, black circle with no apparent appendages. She was surprised he hadn’t curled up with Nyte on the couch. Dinner must have filled his little belly enough that he just wanted to nap peacefully--especially after all the treats Nyte had shared from his plate.

  She glanced at Nyte. He had his fingers steepled in front of him as he stared into the orange flame. From the serious expression on his face, he was probably contemplating the events of the past day, which, strangely enough, constituted his whole life as he knew it.

  "Nyte, this whole situation must be very difficult for you." She sipped her Coke as he lifted his gaze to hers. "Last night you found yourself alone in Paris with no memory of who you are, no possessions to give you any clue, and then I show up and drag you back here."

  He smiled, a devilish gleam in his eye. "That last event made the whole thing worthwhile."

  She ignored his sweet talk--and the annoying quiver of delight at his flattery--intent on getting some answers. "But it must leave you feeling very disoriented."

  He sipped his hot chocolate. He’d gotten hooked on it when Fiona brought him a cup mid-afternoon. When he’d tried it, he’d decided it was love at first taste--similar to his reaction to Lucinda and the first time he kissed her--and he’d indulged in several since then. Also similar to kissing her.

  "Actually, I am coping quite well."

  Absently, she drummed her fingers on the armrest. "That’s what confuses me. For someone who’s in such a strange situation, you’re taking it a little too well."

  He placed his mug on the coffee table and laced his fingers together.

  "Lucinda, I am as anxious to find out who I am and what happened as you are, but anxiety will not help me attain that goal. I have a feeling of rightness being here with you and I am confident you will help me discover who I am. And more." He leaned forward and took her hand, sending shimmering awareness scooting up her arm. "That coupled with the knowledge that you and I are meant to be together--"

  She tugged her hand away. "As mentor and student."

  His gaze drew hers like the sun draws a comet, then held it captive.

  "We will be much more than that."

  The solemnity of his words seeped into her, like water into cracked, dry soil, making her believe a carefully nurtured seed of love just might grow if she allowed it to take root.

  Fool. It’s only his way of keeping you off balance.

  She ignored Nyte’s comment, not allowing herself to be distracted from her purpose.

  "Wherever you’re from, or rather whenever, you seem comfortable in today’s world." Which seemed a direct contradiction to the fact that Rand insisted he was a wizard from way in the past and that he’d been missing for countless centuries. "You don’t seem to be intimidated by our modern gadgets." Not that she’d expect Nyte to be intimidated by anything, but he shouldn’t be quite as at ease as he seemed. "Do you remember anything about before?"

  "No, I have no memory of the time before you found me. At least, nothing concrete."

  She raised her eyebrows. "What do you mean?"

  He sighed and leaned back, settling comfortably against the couch. "I have a sense that this place isn’t exactly like the one I’m from, but there are many similarities. Gadgets, as you call them, don’t seem new to me. I also believe I’ve had to adjust to radically different situations over time."

  She nodded, though she really didn’t understand. "That would explain your adaptability, I suppose."

  The mystery of Nyte grew deeper and more obscure with time, and she found herself desperately wanting to shed light on it.

  She hesitated. Over dinner, she’d had an idea that might help him, but it involved interacting with his energy field again. After the strong effect of this afternoon’s encounter, she was wary.

  But she had to make every effort to help him. He was her responsibility. And besides, she was a tenth level wizard. She could handle this situation.

  With a quick swallow of Coke, she pushed aside her wariness.

  "I’d like to try something, if you don’t mind. It may help bring back your memory."

  His features aligned in a keen look of interest. "By all means."

  She leaned toward him, resting her elbows on her knees. "It will involve ... touching you."

  He smiled wickedly. "All the better." His velvet voice brushed across her in a sensuous caress.

  A jittery tremor traveled from the bottom of her stomach to her throat. Touching him could only mean trouble. She was far too susceptible to his charisma.

  On the other hand, she had to try this.

  "Lie down on the couch," she directed.

  He said nothing, but a devilish gleam lit his eyes.

  "Stop looking at me like that. This is a healing technique, nothing more."

  He reached forward and took her hand, then drew it to his lips. "I’m sure the touch of these hands could heal my very soul."

  The tremor within her turned into a full-blown earthquake.

  He settled into position on the couch, his muscular body stretched out before her. Man but she’d love to do some exploring of that landscape, and not for health reasons. In fact, she was certain it would prove decidedly negative to her emotional health.

  She tugged the hand-crocheted afghan--a gift from a client--from the back of the couch and covered his magnificent body, hoping if she couldn’t see it, she wouldn’t lust after it. She hadn’t counted on the blue ripple pattern drawing her gaze the length of his body, and emphasizing the breadth of his chest and narrowness of his waist.

  She knelt beside the couch and drew in a deep breath, concentrating on the role of healer. This time, she would not allow hormones to bombard her like overheated popcorn, jerking her senses into a frenzy.

&nbs
p; She laid her hands on the sides of his head. Nervousness quivered through her as his magical energy mingled with hers. A trembling wave of desire surged through her, but she focused on her purpose and slowly--infuriatingly slowly--it eased back. It still lapped at the edge of her consciousness, but she could ignore it for now.

  His long, silken hair threaded around her fingers as she pressed her palms against his cheeks. His breath whispered across her face. His dark eyes watched her and she felt far too close and far too exposed.

  "It will be better if you close your eyes," she said. For her, not him, but she didn’t have to admit that.

  He closed his eyelids, shuttering those intense, disturbing eyes from view.

  She drew in a deep breath and released it slowly. Then again. After several moments, a calmness settled over her. She focused her healing senses on his physical form.

  She felt nothing out of alignment in his head, the first place she would have expected to find an injury that might cause amnesia. She drew her hands downward, over his chest. Strong, healthy muscle and bone was all she sensed. As she drew her fingers over the tight muscled ridges of his stomach, she noticed he was having a uniquely male reaction to her touch. An impressive bulge stretched his pants taut. An answering twinge convulsed in her vagina. She felt a blush tinge her cheeks and thanked heaven his eyes were closed. She shifted to his hips, then down his legs.

  No sign of injury anywhere.

  In fact, the incredible health of his physical body stunned her. No signs of wear and tear, no signs of stress or deterioration. It just seemed ... brand new. She found no signs of an injury that might have triggered amnesia.

  She flattened her palms on either side of his collarbone and curled her fingers over his shoulders, ignoring the feel of solid muscle under her hands and the intimacy of his body so seductively close to hers.

  She forced the erratic rhythm of her breathing to calm, until it became deep and even, at the same time emptying her mind of every thought but one.