Possessed by the Fallen. Sharon Ashwood

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СКАЧАТЬ exotic scent, the rhythm of her breath, the feel of her skin under his. No glamour was that precise. Jack remembered every intoxicating detail, even if he’d tried to scour her out of his soul. “I mourned for you.”

      “And I for you.”

      But her voice cracked on the words. He could feel her pulse, speeding with the rush of her panic. She’d seen the demon in him, and it terrified her. The sensation of it went straight to his sex, making him press closer. She struggled a moment, but it was barely for the span of one racing heartbeat. And then she surrendered—or stood her ground—fitting herself to him as if they’d never been apart. Her kiss told him everything he longed for.

      As a human, Jack had thirsted in the desert, and she was sweeter than the taste of life-giving water. But poetry wasn’t uppermost in his thoughts. Lust and hunger uncoiled inside him, bringing out his fangs. He braced his arms on either side of her, his fingers digging into the wall. Stone and mortar crumbled in a shower of dust.

      Her body arched under his, the movement showing her smooth, white throat. His tongue found the spot where her skin was warm and fragrant, tasting the beat of her heart through the thinnest veil of flesh. He pressed his mouth there, teasing with the points of his teeth. Her skin held the tang of fear, though still she refused to show it completely.

      At the sharp intake of her breath, he broke away. His head was starting to spin with the need for blood, and he didn’t trust his self-control. There was too much anger in him to be completely safe.

      Slowly, Lark’s eyes met his, the low light turning their rich brown color to black. Her voice was hoarse with lust and regret. “I disappeared after the fire because I was hiding from the men who tried to kill me. And you were dead, or so I thought. Fiery deaths were trending last season, in case you don’t remember.”

      Jack drew back with a noise of disgust, sanity crawling back like a whipped dog. “It was nice of you to grieve, after the knife and all. Although you obviously knew I was walking the earth, or you wouldn’t be following me.”

      The sudden widening of her eyes said he’d caught her out. “There were rumors in the Light Court that you were in Marcari, but I didn’t let my heart believe it until I saw you on the street a few days ago. I don’t know what to think about you anymore, Jack. Not after our last conversation.”

      “Conversation,” he mocked. “That’s a polite description for stabbing your lover.”

      She was shivering, but he knew better than to think it was just the cold. Our last conversation. The magic in the knife had ripped away his self-control, and Jack had let his demon side show. It was the only slip he’d ever made in his long life, but she’d learned his secret that night.

      That discovery had been her mission, the game between them, and she’d won. He’d loved Lark as he’d never loved anyone in all his long centuries, but she had been nothing more than a spy in his bed.

      What she’d learned was a danger to him. In purely practical terms, her death that same night had solved his problem, even as it left a world of unresolved pain. Now he had to decide what to do about her sudden resurrection.

      He cupped her face again—none too gently—his thumb stroking her cheekbone. “Who did you tell about me?” he asked.

      “No one.” She pulled away.

      “I find that hard to believe. You don’t go to such lengths and not follow through.”

      “I was hospitalized. I couldn’t talk, just think. I decided I wouldn’t tell unless...”

      “Unless?”

      Her eyes narrowed. “Unless I needed to.”

      That meant she had leverage over him. Anger sparked, and his fingers curled into a fist. “That covers a lot of circumstances and a lot of convenient excuses.”

      She shot him a sour look. “Believe what you like.”

      “What about your orders from the Light Court?” A single spark of blue energy snaked across his hand.

      “They were too busy healing my burns to ask questions.”

      “So you stabbed me for no reason.”

      “It’s not that simple, Jack. They were curious about the source of your strength and whether it was something they could replicate. Now I know it isn’t. I can afford to say nothing.”

      Jack didn’t answer, but closed his hand over the spark. If she was telling the truth, she was picking and choosing the bits that suited her.

      She slowly shook her head. “You’re changing.”

      “What’s that got to do with anything?”

      She put up both hands. Her back was against the wall, a whisper of space between them, but her expression wasn’t giving an inch. “You don’t see it, but there’s something going on with you. I overheard your conversation with the commander.”

      Jack didn’t doubt she had. Fey ears were almost as good as a vampire’s. “So?”

      “You’ve always been the perfect soldier, and right now you’re sailing close to the edge of subordination. Plus, you’re sparking like a faulty coffeemaker. You’re losing ground to what’s inside you.”

      He walked away a few steps. She was right, but putting distance between them was easier than framing a reply—especially when he had no good answers.

      “How can I help you, Jack?” she asked, her voice suddenly soft with concern.

      “You can’t,” he said, barely giving it a thought. Even if he wanted her help, a fey didn’t stand a chance against a demon. “No one can.”

      “So I can’t help you and you can’t forgive me.”

      “That’s about the size of it.” He kept moving, his eyes fixed on the glow from the café window. The gabble of music and voices seemed unnaturally loud in the darkness.

      A long silence followed before Lark spoke again. “That doesn’t leave us anywhere to go.”

      “No.”

      “Like you said—why waste our time?”

      It was a goodbye. The realization hit him like an electric charge. He spun on his heel, turning toward the spot where she’d stood. There was nothing but empty wall and fresh gouges where he’d clawed the bricks like a feral beast.

      She was gone.

      The emptiness that followed hit Jack like a boot to the gut. The sound that came from Jack’s throat was a snarl of anger and need tangled together. He hadn’t found Lark just to lose her again like this.

      Damn the commander’s orders. He had to look for her.

       Chapter 3

      “I can’t believe Jessica Lark is still alive.” Faran Kenyon’s voice crackled over the bad cell phone connection. He was a werewolf and the only one of Jack’s team aware that Jack was undercover. СКАЧАТЬ