She let the tingles enter her, gathering them up into a bundle. That bundle grew until it filled her, spilling out so that she was sure the trucker across the way could see it. Bright, throbbing heat beat against the air and shook the windows. The power continued to swell, but did nothing else. She didn’t know how to make it do anything.
“Stop the poison,” she ordered it, but nothing happened. Speaking out loud did no good.
The power started to become uncomfortable as it grew, bouncing around her insides until it was sparking off bones and organs. She tried to stop it, but that did nothing to slow the increasing strain she was feeling. More energy filtered into her through the luceria, and she could find no way to turn off the flow.
The bench seat beneath them trembled, and she heard change rattling in a cup holder. The keys dangling from the ignition jangled. Her hair stood on end, and there was a faint crackling of static electricity in the air.
If she didn’t stop this soon, she was going to end up killing both of them.
She put her hands on Iain’s naked chest and tried to visualize what she wanted to happen. Poison was just a chemical—a molecule of stuff in his body that didn’t belong. All she had to do was find it, gather it up, and eject it out of some orifice or other.
No sweat. She could do that. It wasn’t even all that complicated.
At least that’s what she kept telling herself as she scanned his body for some way to find the poison.
A muscle in his chest twitched violently. She opened her eyes. The sight of her fingers splayed across something as beautiful as his bare body shocked her. The tree on his chest was so lifelike, she was sure she could feel the texture of the bark scratching her fingers. Heavy slabs of muscles layered his ribs, but his skin was too pale, and cold to the touch.
Three scratches raked across his shoulder, and they were red and puffy as if infected. He was no longer bleeding, but along those wounds were glowing smears of yellow.
Yellow, like the spit dripping from the demon’s mouth. That was it. That was the poison.
Now Jackie knew what to look for, so she closed her eyes again and sent the power growing within her back into him, to scour his bloodstream for this glowing yellow invader.
She could feel something happening—some kind of shift in the hum of the power vibrating through her. It had a purpose now, and it arrowed in on that purpose, eager to do her bidding. In her mind, she could see glistening specks of energy scouring his veins, gathering up every glowing bit of poison it could find.
Beneath her grip, Iain shifted, his powerful body arching under her hands. He sucked in a deep breath, letting it out in a hiss of pain.
The magical scrubbing bubbles had accumulated quite a bit of the poison now, and she had to send it somewhere. She really didn’t want to make him puke for fear he’d choke on his own vomit, and she didn’t think he’d thank her for using the other obvious exit. Instead, she guided the poison toward the cut she’d recently given him, forcing it to seep out through his capillaries until it was pooling on his skin.
Iain groaned and started to move beneath her. If he didn’t hold still, the poison was going to go everywhere. She didn’t know if it could be reabsorbed by his skin or not, but she wasn’t about to find out the hard way.
She had nothing to wipe away the poison, so she stripped out of the leather jacket he’d given her, then her suit jacket, and used that to clean off the glowing demon spit.
Iain grabbed her wrist and his eyes popped open. His gaze went straight to the luceria around her throat, staring at it for several long seconds. He wore the strangest expression on his face—one of both reverence and regret. It wasn’t exactly what she’d expected from a man whose life she’d just saved.
Then again, he’d nearly died, so he got a pass.
His fingers slid from her waistband, grazing her abdomen. She shivered at the touch, but tried to hide her wayward reaction.
He gathered the fabric of her jacket in his fist, pulling it from her grasp. Then he sat up and finished cleaning away the poison, wiping more from his bare arm. He opened the door and tossed the jacket on the ground.
She thought about complaining for a split second before she realized that she really didn’t want to wear that jacket ever again, no matter how many times it was dry-cleaned.
When he turned back to face her, his black gaze was steely, but there was a stark bleakness in his expression she didn’t understand. “What did you do?” he asked her, as if she’d done something wrong.
Indignation made her straighten her spine. “I got rid of the poison that was killing you. You’re welcome, by the way.”
His eyes closed in regret before he regained control of his expression. “You think I’m going to thank you? Do you have any idea of what you’ve done?”
Now she was starting to worry. All this magic stuff was new to her. What if she’d done something wrong or broken some secret rule she didn’t know about? “I don’t understand. I did what Helen told me to do—what I thought you’d want me to do.”
“You tricked me into bonding with you.”
“Tricked you? No, I didn’t.”
“I was delirious. I thought we were under attack.”
“We probably will be. I had to cut you. They can smell your blood, right?”
He gave her a grim nod, then scanned the surrounding area. “Maybe there’s some way to take it back.”
“Take what back?”
“Your vow. I heard what you said. I tried to stop you, but it was too late.”
That was what was bothering him? “I’m sorry, Iain, but I don’t know you well enough to promise anything even resembling permanence. I know that’s what you men expect, and I know that’s how it ended up for my sisters and the others, but that’s just not how it’s going to be with me. I have other plans.”
His gaze settled on the luceria again, as if he couldn’t keep his eyes away from the sight. “Then you should have spoken more carefully.”
“What do you mean? I only promised to stay with you until you were better.”
“No, until I was good as new. That’s what you said. Those words. I’m better now, and yet my luceria remains around your throat.” He reached out, tracing the necklace with his thick finger. His warmth sank through the band and into her skin, radiating out through her body. Her eyelids fluttered shut, and she had to stifle a groan of pleasure. Even through the barrier of the luceria, his touch still had the power to make her knees wobble with delight. It wasn’t right. It wasn’t what she wanted, but she couldn’t help herself.
She forced her eyes open so he wouldn’t know her secret shame. The look on his face was one of awe and regret.
Jackie thought back, reviewing her words. He was right. Good as new. That’s exactly what she’d said.
“It’s not a problem,” she said, forcing false cheer into her tone to ward off the worry that was creeping in. “We’ll just fix whatever else is wrong with you and it will all be fine.” She hoped. “So what is the problem? Did I miss some of the poison? If not, it won’t take long for those scratches on your chest to heal, right?”
His black eyes darted to the bench seat of the truck, making him look guilty as hell. “What’s wrong with me is not something you can fix. No one can.”
Understanding dawned and with it came a heavy dose of dread. It was his broken heart that was the problem, not his physical body. Losing Serena had hurt him deeply. He’d loved her, and now she was dead. Jackie couldn’t expect him to be okay.
“You’ll find someone else you can love again,” she told him, her voice gentle. The last thing she wanted was for him to get all defensive and fight her every step of the way. If she had to find him a new girlfriend to free herself from this bond, then that’s what she’d do. He wasn’t exactly a cuddly guy, but he was hot as hell, built like a woman’s favorite daydream. She could work with that—find some willing woman. Play matchmaker.
The idea of Iain with another woman grated against her, making her angry. It was ridiculous for her to suffer even a moment of jealousy, but she was too practical to lie to herself and pretend it hadn’t happened. Twice now.
Iain’s jaw clenched in frustration. “You don’t get it, do you? This isn’t a bit of heartache I’m dealing with.”
“Then tell me. What’s the problem?”
“It doesn’t matter,” he said. “There’s nothing you can do.”
Chapter 10
Iain struggled to keep control over his raging emotions. There were too many to count, too many to distinguish. He wanted to laugh and scream at the same time. He wanted to weep for all that he’d lost, and to sing with joy for the chance he’d been given to live the life he was supposed to have had. He wanted to strip Jackie naked so he could take her hard and fast, tying them together even closer, and he wanted to gather her up and hold her tight, where no harm could ever come to her. But mostly, he wanted to kill.
His pain was gone—taken away by Jackie—but rage pounded at him, demanding release. The monster screeched inside his skull, throwing itself at his thoughts until they were so jumbled he couldn’t make sense of any of them. His entire body was clenched, dying for a fight, but the only one here was Jackie.
She’d bonded herself to him. He’d let it happen. Sure, he’d been incoherent at the time, but that was no excuse.
Good as new.
His soul was dead. He was never going to be good as new again.
He couldn’t tell her. The shame went too deep. It was all he could do not to throw back his head and roar at the world for what had been stolen from him.
His monster was more powerful than ever. He’d been so careful to keep it contained for so long, but it had seen Jackie now, and it wanted her. Iain could feel it stretching its wings and extending its claws, testing its cage. He had to get away from her before he did something violent and permanent.
Iain reached for the door, but Jackie’s hands curled around his arm, stopping him. The feel of her slender fingers against his bare skin was nearly more than he could take. She was soft, warm, so vulnerable.
He turned to her to tell her to let go, that it wasn’t safe to touch him. Before he could even open his mouth, the rage screaming inside of him quieted, as if eager to hear her speak.
She was beautiful. He hadn’t really noticed it before. But he definitely saw it now. Her eyes were a soft, pale gray, and huge with concern. Her full lips were parted, and he got the strongest urge to run his finger over them and see if they could possibly be as soft as they looked. His luceria gleamed at her throat, filling him with a sense of pride and utter rightness. It didn’t matter how big a mistake this was, or how much he knew she’d come to resent their union. For now, he felt a peace he hadn’t known since he’d held baby Samson in his arms.
She was a gift, and somehow he was going to have to find a way to let her go.
She pulled in a breath, which pressed her breasts against her modest button-up shirt. His gaze darted down. He was obvious. He hadn’t even tried to be anything else. As he watched, her nipples hardened beneath the thin fabric, making his mouth water.
