Page 94 of The Tracker's Revenge
We glanced around the cabin, scanning the walls for bookshelves. There were none. We returned our attention to the cat.
Purring, Blaze pressed a paw to Jake’s thigh, then, with a satisfied look in his amber eyes, turned on a dime, walked to one corner of the sofa bed, and curled himself to sleep.
“Did he just... approve of me?” Jake asked.
It sure looked that way.
With a strange, anxious feeling in my chest, I picked up the book, turned it, and read the title. “Blood Treaties: My life in France,” I said under my breath. “This book...” I started, unsure of whether or not I should keep talking.
“What?”
“It was in my condo. It’s one of the ones I took with me.”
Jake’s eyes darted from side to side. “And you... brought it?”
I shook my head. “I didn’t.” I looked at Blaze who seemed lost in his pleasant sleep.
“So... the cat brought it?” Jake said tentatively.
I scrubbed at my face, feeling at a loss. “I think he did, which means...” I hated to eat crow.
“Which means I’m right,” Jake finished for me. “That cat is weird.”
I nodded reluctantly. I couldn’t deny it anymore. There was definitely something up with Blaze, but what? And did it mean I needed to get rid of him? Or that I should have him evaluated by a Witch Vet? Maybe they would be able to tell me if he was possessed like Jake had said. Or maybe he was just... special, like from Elf-hame or some other realm where cats were super smart and, on top of that, magical.
“Why this book?” Jake asked.
I was afraid to even say the words out loud, to even hope, so I started very slowly. “I think... I think there’s something here that may help us break the pact. He tried to bring the book to my attention before, but I got distracted and then forgot.”
He snatched the book from my hands, threw the cover open, and ran a finger down the index, his eyes moving back and forth across the page. Nothing caught his eye in the first section, so he turned the page and continued searching. There was such a desperate quality to his movements that I immediately understood how he’d managed to read all those books so quickly. I watched him curiously as he devoured the words, page after page, his attitude far more desperate than mine had been when I’d methodically gone through my pile of research.
Nervous agitation sizzled around him, and I found myself feeling embarrassed and terribly flattered at the same time. Embarrassed because I should’ve been as invested as he was in finding the answer, and flattered because he was doing this for me, because he loved me enough to risk his life by breaking the pact.
Without thinking, I lifted a hand to his hair and ran my fingers through it. Reluctantly, he peeled his eyes away from the book and glanced in my direction. As he noticed my expression, the intense quality that shaped his features slowly changed.
“What?” he asked, appearing confused by whatever emotion he saw in my face.
“Nothing,” I said. “I just love you so much.”
He let out a short exhale as if I’d punched him in the gut. Recovering quickly, he set the book aside and slid closer. “I love you too, Toni.”
His lips parted, and he glanced down at my mouth. Unable to resist the temptation of his delicious mouth, I threw a leg over his lap and straddled him. He blinked in surprise but recovered quickly. Smiling, he placed his large hands on my hips, then slid them upward, deftly pulling my shirt out of my waistband. His fingers trailed over the bare skin of my abdomen and back.
I lowered my lips to his and kissed him. A jolt of electricity passed between us, and he tightened his hands around my waist, pulling me to him.
“I’ve been wasting my time,” he said as he nibbled on my lower lip. “I’ve been dying to make love to you. It was stupid of me to hold back. I want you.” His chest rumbled as his tongue caressed my lower lip, sending a pang of desire straight to my middle.
I deepened my kiss, one hand intertwined in his soft hair and the other one exploring his hard chest. Suddenly, he rolled to one side, laid me on the bed, and covered my body with his, fitting snugly between my hips. His erection bulged against me, sending my desire from thelets-make-outcategory in therip-my-clothes-off-nowone.
“I dream about this every single night.” He trailed kisses down my neck as his hand slowly made its way toward my left breast.
I arched my back, wrapping my legs around him to feel him better.
“I wake up sweating and... aching for you.” His tongue made swirling patterns near my collarbone while his hand finally covered my breast and gently squeezed it, his thumb and forefinger pinching my nipple over my silken bra.
“I love you and want you so damn much,” I hissed.
Suddenly, he stopped. Just stopped.
