Page 62 of The Guardian's Curse

And she wanted him. It was unbelievable.

She set the hammer aside and leaned back against Lucia’s statue. Her bare toes curled as she stretched out her shapely legs. “Listen, honey, we’re going to figure this out. It’s gotta suck being made of stone. I hope you’re comfortable, at least. Maybe having nice dreams.”

His heart ached as he watched her. She scrubbed at her eyes, then glanced at her phone. Her brow furrowed, and she looked over her shoulder. At the sight of him, she yelped in surprise. “Jesus, Alistair, you’re sneaky.”

“Good evening,” he said.

“Come over here,” she said.

“So quickly?” He eagerly swooped in, ready to pull her clothes off, but she swept some of her drawings aside to make a space for him on the floor. “What’s this?”

“I need to look at you,” she said. “Sit.”

“What? I’d rather—”

“No, not look at you look at you,” she said. “I mean, I’d like that, but...I need to look at your curse.”

“Oh,” he said, lowering himself into the open space she’d indicated. Nerves tickled at his chest. “Shoshanna, did I misunderstand you last night?”

“What, about the part where you need more than an hour to have your way with me?” she said with a playful perk to her brow.

“Yes, that.”

“You understood perfectly well,” she said, squeezing his hands. A delightful flush rose on her cheeks. “And we are going to do that thing, but I need to make some progress on this first. Because I really hope that once we get in bed, I’m not going anywhere else for a while. So I have to chase this rabbit all the way down its hole before I forget.”

Fierce desire rolled through him. He wasn’t sure he’d manage to wait, but he nodded. “I understand. What do you need?”

She smiled. “I’m going to examine you. It won’t hurt, but you might feel a tingle. Is that okay?”

“Of course,” he replied. She slid closer and pushed up his sleeve. He recoiled as his mottled gray skin was exposed to the light. Glowing red veins pulsed along his forearms. “I’m sorry, I’d rather...” He settled himself. She did not hate him, no matter how much he hated himself. This was a small thing, and he had to stop being a coward. “Do what you must.”

She nodded solemnly. “I know that it’s difficult. I appreciate you pushing through it. This is important to me.” Her hands closed around his wrists. “You can hold mine.” He cupped her arms gently, linking them together. Her pulse was a steady, soft current beneath his fingertips.

An electric tingle washed over him, and he suddenly felt as if a thousand tiny needles prickled across his skin, down his spine, into his groin, to the tips of his toes. Then there was a searing heat, focused as an arrow straight to his core. It was as if she was caressing him, one finger running along his spine.

Flashes of erotic splendor rushed through his mind. Shoshanna’s eyes, heavy-lidded and filled with satisfaction. Her perfect breasts, gleaming with a sheen of sweat as her back arched in a graceful curve. The perfect rosy flower of her sex, holding him tight as he made love to her. The sharp scent of desire filled the air, and she cleared her throat. “Are you doing something?”

“I’m thinking rather pleasant thoughts of you,” he said with a note of amusement.

“Stop it,” she said.

“I can’t help it. Your energy is all over me, and it’s very appealing.”

She squeezed his arms. “Alistair, please.” He sighed, pushing the thoughts aside. Soon. He tried to focus on the importance of her work. Though he did not dare hope that she could break his curse, if she could free Lucia, then this was worth doing.

“There,” she said, squeezing his arms tight. That same heated feeling speared through him again, like a shooting star that settled in his groin. No matter how intently he thought of dull gray paint and dry deserts, he was filled with raw desire. “Huh.”

“What?”

“I must not have seen it before,” she murmured, suddenly letting him go.

Though the feeling of her magic subsided, the throbbing ache in his groin did not. When he opened his eyes, he found her scrawling on a blank sheet. He leaned over her, gently touching her neck. Goosebumps followed the trail of his finger. Decades of shame and hatred melted away at that simple thing, to see her respond with need instead of revulsion.

“Wait,” she said, grabbing his hand. “Please, I can’t think straight when you touch me.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment.”

She just chuckled, then fixed her gaze on her work. He left her to it, going to the kitchen to drink his breakfast. After biting into the bag of A-negative, he returned and found her still drawing. A large circle was filled with several smaller circles, connected with a series of spirals and triangles. And in the center of it, she had drawn a small spot of red.

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