Page 64 of Panther in the Shadows
"You could die."
"So could you. So could any of us." My fingers curl into his shirt. "But if we don't try, Old Tom dies for certain. Elspeth stays trapped. And Catalina builds whatever dark army she's planning until nothing can stop her."
The war plays across his features. Protection versus logic. Fear versus necessity.
Finally, he pulls me close, buries his face in my hair. "Then we do this together. The brotherhood handles Catalina. You handle the magic. And we all survive."
"Yes."
We stand there, holding each other in the quiet. My senses sharpen—magic amplifying every detail. Rafe's body heat seeps into my skin. His heartbeat drums steady under my palm. His breath stirs my hair. Every point of contact thrums with awareness.
Rafe's hands cup my face, tilting my head up. His eyes hold shadows and hunger and fear wrapped together.
"Moira Flynn, you're the most extraordinary person I've ever met."
"You haven't met that many people if I'm the most extraordinary."
"I've met plenty." His thumb traces my cheekbone. Heat skates down my spine at the touch. "None of them are you."
The kiss starts gentle. Tender. A promise wrapped in touch. Then it deepens, becomes more urgent. Need and fear and the awareness that we might not survive what's coming burns between us.
His hands slide into my hair, angling my head to deepen the kiss. I rise onto my toes, pressing closer, needing contact. Heat. Him.
The magic under my skin responds to his shadow-walker power. Ocean meeting darkness. Water calling to night. The connection sparks, energy pulsing through both of us.
Rafe makes a rough sound against my mouth. He pulls me flush against him, hands dropping to my waist. The evidence of his desire presses against my hip, and heat pools low in my belly.
"Moira." My name comes out rough. Desperate. "I need you."
"Yes." The word barely makes it past my lips before he's kissing me again.
The walk back to the warehouse happens in a blur. We stop twice on the way, pressed against walls, hands exploring, mouths hungry. The wards I placed earlier recognize me when we finally stumble through his door, welcoming me.
Rafe kicks the door shut behind us. Then he's touching me again, sliding under my shirt, tracing the curve of my waist. His palms are rough and warm, and everywhere he touches comes alive.
"You're sure?" He pulls back enough to meet my eyes, giving me space to refuse even though his body is tight with restraint.
"I'm sure." I reach for the hem of my shirt, pull it over my head. Let it fall to the floor. "I want this. Want you."
His gaze drops to the exposed skin, and the hunger in his expression makes my breath catch. "You're beautiful."
"Then stop talking and touch me."
He does.
His mouth and hands map every inch of newly exposed skin with reverent attention. Tracing the line of my collarbone. The curve of my breast through my bra. Down to my ribs and the soft skin of my belly. My nervous system lights up with sparks at each touch, the magic in my blood amplifying every sensation.
I reach for his shirt, fumble with buttons until he takes over. Strips it off with efficient movements that speak of barely leashed control. Then his chest is bare, and I can finally touch him the way I want to.
His skin is warm under my palms. Smooth over hard muscle. I trace the lines of his shoulders, down his chest, feeling the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. He shudders under my touch, fingers flexing on my waist.
"Moira." My name is a plea and a warning.
"I know." I press closer, let him feel how much I want this. "I feel it too."
The magic between us builds with each touch. His shadow power curls around my ocean-deep gift, the energies tangling and sparking. This intensity is new. Like our powers recognize each other on some fundamental level.
Rafe backs me toward the bed, his mouth never leaving mine. We fall together onto the mattress, a tangle of limbs and need and magic that makes the air crackle around us.
