Page 3 of Falling
Awareness began at the base of Cat’s spine. She didn’t know how she was so certain, but she was: She’d been ensnared by him somehow, a fish lured in and caught on the end of a line before being released. The surreal question rose up her throat and stuck there:Did you do that to me?
She was being ridiculous. She should head back to the party. “Nothing. My mistake.”
He smiled warmly again, and the expression lit a small fire inside her.
“Happy Halloween,” she added.
He laughed, a sound so deep and intoxicating she felt it spreading like smoke through her bloodstream. “Is it?” he asked, smile turning wry.
Cat felt the laugh rise out of her. “Yeah ... not really.”
He sent a hand into the pocket of his trousers and pulled in a deep breath that only seemed to heighten his hunger for this strange human. He’d discovered that she could hear the voice but wasn’t commanded by it; she’d felt his allure, been tempted by it, but it hadn’t made her mindless. He could taste her in the air, her lust like golden licks of flame all around her—but she’d kept her own mind.
It had never happened, not once, in his entire immortal existence.
“I see you went all out with the costume,” she joked, and on the heels of his wonder, his dead heart jerked to life for a phantom beat before he realized what she meant. He gazed down at the mask in his hand.
“Yes, well, it was a last-minute decision to come here.”
“Are you a friend of Harry’s?”
“Is he the host?” he asked, looking back to her. “The poor sod dressed as a block of cheese?”
She laughed, and it sent vibrations down his spine. “Yes, that’s Harry. But I think he’s supposed to be a box of cereal.”
“Shall I take that more seriously?”
Her laugh turned round and playful, and the sound absolutely delighted him. It was rolling, golden joy, a delighted uprising inside her. A flurry of images barraged him—his mouth on her stomach, nipping, tickling, licking that light from her skin—and he sucked in a breath, momentarily disoriented.
“Who are you here with?” she asked.
“Only myself.”
She frowned, that heart-shaped mouth turning into a pout he wanted to devour. “Then who do you know here?” she pressed.
“I don’t know anyone,” he admitted, knowing how stiff and awkward he must seem, so unaccustomed he was to conversation. “Who accompanied you?”
“Accompanied?” She laughed again. “My newlyex-boyfriend.”
“Newly? Cheers. I’m glad to hear it.”
“You are? Why?”
He could tell she found him odd, and dug around in his thoughts, searching for the words. Already it was the longest conversation he’d had with a human in decades, and the skill felt rusty and slow in his mind. “Because he looked like a bloody fool dragging you through a party and abandoning you immediately.”
Her eyes turned guarded. “Helooked like a fool?”
“Do you think it’s appropriate for a man to treat a woman that way?”
“No, but if anyone looked like a fool back there, it was me.”
“For being with him?” He leaned forward, wanting to understand. For so long, he hadn’t bothered to care about human feelings and motivations beyond what he needed from them. He felt, at once, like he was learning a new language.
She parroted his words back to him: “For letting him drag me through a party and abandon me immediately.”
“Did you really let him? You seemed rather taken aback.”
“And you seem to have been paying very close attention.” Her voice had a thin film of unease.
