Page 21 of Hot Zone

Nothelpful.

Thanks to his sorcery performance last night in little more than a towel, she knew he wore no jewelry, no armor, no pouch that might contain a bronze trinket. He couldn’t possibly have the medallion on him. So why was he all she was sensing? She glanced over at him, frowning.

He was frowning back at her.

“What?” she asked a trifle irritably.

“What are you doing?”

“Nothing. Looking at the valley. The entire Persian army arrayed at my feet is an impressive sight.”

Rustam snorted. Ha. She was doing something, all right. Energy was surging around her like a roiling thundercloud. He reached out with his mind to sense her thoughts.

That was strange; he was getting nothing. Not even a general sense of her mood. He could always read people. They displayed their thoughts and feelings like open books. He must be tired. He’d tossed and turned, hot and aroused in his lonely bed, for most of the night.

The prickling sensation was back, racing across his skin until he felt an urge to scratch all over. “Stop that!”

Tessa jumped. “Stop what?”

“Whatever you’re doing.”

“What are you talking about?” She looked distinctly alarmed now.

He stepped close, grabbing her by both shoulders when she made to turn away. He hauled her up against him and glared down at her. “Tell me why every time I’m around you, the hairs on my arms stand up. Why I see colored lights at the back of my eyes until I get a headache. Why you drive me mad with want of you. What magic spell do you cast upon me, witch woman?”

“I’m not a witch, I haven’t cast any magic spells on you, and I don’t have the slightest idea what you’re talking about.”

“You lie. I don’t even have to hear it in your voice. Your eyes slide away from mine and you vibrate with guilt in my hands. Who are you?”

“I told you. I’m Tessa of Marconi. I come from far away.”

He dragged her up higher until she stood on her tiptoes, pressed against him from shoulder to ankles. “Yes, yes. And you were shipwrecked. I know all that. But who are you? Why are you here? Who are your people?”

Frustration glittered in her otherworldly, silver-blue eyes. He damned well knew the feeling. Stubbornly, she remained silent, denying him the answers he needed.

He hurled his mind against hers. “Answer me!”

She moaned in distress. He didn’t care. He slammed her with more power, strangely chaotic and unfocused for him. It zinged back and forth between them, and he absorbed the pain heedlessly, too angry to care about any injury he might cause himself.

“Rustam, stop!” she cried out.

“Answer my question. Who. Are. You?”

“I am…a traveler. I come…from far away.”

Her mental defenses were astounding. He felt his own power beginning to drain. Was she actually sucking energy out of him? How was she doing that?

Supremely frustrated, he lifted her entirely off the ground by her upper arms. And kissed her angrily.

And every bit of energy he’d poured into her slammed back into him in a single blast. He reeled with the force of it. Stumbled backward, setting her on her feet and gripping her as much to keep his own balance as to restrain her.

She came to him of her own accord then, sliding her arms around his neck. “I don’t know what it is about you,” she mumbled, sounding as frustrated as him. “But I can’t keep my hands off of you. Lord knows, I ought to.”

And then she kissed him. In an instant, his heartbeat sped up to match hers. Today, their pulses and auras aligned without conscious effort on his part. The indigo haze wrapped around them in a blanket of power that magnified their desire tenfold.

He plundered her mouth with his, and their tongues danced a ballet in perfect unison. Where his body was hard, hers was soft. Where his was angular, hers was curved. Where he pulled her close, she yielded. And where she drew his spirit into hers, he went. Willingly. Completely. Helplessly.

He’d heard of this sort of bonding before. But it was mostly the stuff of ancient legends and children’s bedtime stories among his people. Soul bonding they called it. But she wasn’t even remotely of his clan or even his nation. And yet the dizzying whirl of their combined energy built even more quickly and violently than last night, exploding in a burst of light as bright as a new-formed sun.

How they ended up on the ground, with him leaning back against a boulder and her curled in his lap, he had no idea. He stroked her golden hair absently and she snuggled in closer against his chest, apparently asleep.

Did he actually pass out? The thought was shocking, yet he was too calm, too damned indolent all of a sudden, to care. More shocking was the fact that his anger was gone. All of it. Even the deep, dark wellspring from which his power emerged.

What had this woman done to him?

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