‘Ah.’ Dee took a sip of her drink. ‘I recognize that tone of voice. The “all psychics are frauds or delusional” tone. Cops and fundamentalists are particularly fond of it.’
‘Well, were they? Frauds, I mean.’
‘You obviously think so. Who am I to argue?’
He should have looked piqued. He laughed. ‘Oh, I do love a challenge. I don’t suppose you’d like dinner after all, would you?’
Of course she’d like dinner. Who was he kidding? But she couldn’t risk it on so many levels.
Then he reached across the table. ‘Please,’ he said. ‘I don’t bite. I promise.’
He did even worse than that. He touched her. Laid his hand over hers and squeezed. Lightning burst behind Dee’s eyes. A shock of heat shot up her arm and scorched her. That dusty image blossomed again, paint and sunlight and Danny James. Worse, this time it brought with it the sound of laughter. The sense of joy.
Dee gasped, stunned to silence. She looked up to see that Danny had lost color. His pupils were suddenly the size of dimes. Oh, God. He could see it, too. He could hear it.
Dee yanked her hand away, fully intending to turn him down. To climb regally to her feet and walk purposefully out the door.
She took in a breath, all set to shake her head. ‘Actually,’ she said instead, ‘I’d love to.’
Lizzie stared up at Elric, into his dark, fathomless eyes, and she knew he was going to kiss her. She wanted him to. She was fascinated by his mouth, by his cool voice, by his eyes and the long elegant hands. She was fascinated by him, and half terrified.
She still wanted him to kiss her. She could feel the power pulsing between them, threading through her body so that she could feel him everywhere, and the sensation was so terrifyingly wonderful that she wanted to feel his mouth as well, everywhere, and see what kind of colors it brought.
But then he dropped his hand, stepping back, away from her, and the connection was broken, and she felt suddenly drained. Thankfully unkissed. Damnably unkissed.
‘You’re very susceptible,’ he said, and if she didn’t know how powerful he was she might have thought there was a shaken note in his cool voice.
‘Susceptible to what?’ She took a step back herself, for safety’s sake. A thousand miles between them would make things even better, but so far he’d been immovable.
‘To me.’
The sting to her pride was enough to override her fears. ‘Yes, I’m absolutely quivering with desire for you,’ she said. ‘We’re long-lost soul mates, and I can’t live without you.’ The problem with sarcasm, she thought, the moment the words were out of her mouth, was that you had to have practice. She was so seldom sarcastic that her haughty little speech sounded far too much like she meant it.
It would have helped if he’d said something, anything. But he just looked at her for a long, measuring moment, before changing the subject. ‘We need to find you a talisman.’
‘What for? To keep me safe from you?’ she shot back.
‘We’re not going to talk about that right now,’ he said. ‘Maybe later. Right now we have work to do.’
Talk about what? she thought with just a trace of desperation, but for once she kept her mouth shut. The longer she was around him the more dangerous he became, though she wasn’t quite sure why.
‘What kind of talisman?’ She went back to the original subject. ‘What do I need it for?’
‘To focus your energy. Do you have any old jewelry, maybe something that belonged to your mother?’
There was no way she could lie to him.
‘We have some jewelry,’ she said reluctantly. ‘But it’s not mine. We’ve been using it to support ourselves – every now and then we sell off a piece and it keeps us going.’
‘Where is it?’ He moved past her, and in the crowded workshop it was a difficult thing to do without touching her, but he managed.
‘I told you, it’s not-’
He left the workshop, moving through her room without even glancing around him. She didn’t blame him – the sweet, neat confines of her small bedroom didn’t hold anything arcane or mysterious.
She rushed after him, about to argue some more, to find him standing at the table by the open window, looking down at the brass-bound trunk Dee had left there. He glanced up at her. ‘I presume this used to belong to your feckless mother. Come here and choose something.’
‘I shouldn’t…’
‘Don’t be tiresome, Lizzie. This is all very simple – either you learn to use your gifts or you keep exploding things and courting dangerous attention from people you’d rather avoid. Open the box.’
Dangerous attention from people she’d rather avoid. Did he mean Xan? If so, he couldn’t have come up with a better argument. She opened the box, looking down at the tangle of brilliant, gaudy jewelry.
‘You know which one is yours, Lizzie,’ he said in a more gentle voice. ‘Just trust yourself.’
She really didn’t like a man who was right all the time, she thought, picking up the one piece that had always fascinated her.
It was the Borgia pendant, a huge rich amethyst, set in silver and looped on a silver chain, the violet catching the light from the setting sun through the window. It felt alive in her hand, and her fears, the ones she thought she’d banished, came rushing back. She put it down on the table, backing away from it. ‘I don’t want it.’
She was too rattled to realize he’d moved, scooping up the pendant, or she would have tried to get away, but he simply put one hand on her shoulder, stilling her, and placed the pendant around her neck. She could feel the weight settle between her breasts, and it vibrated against her heart, warming it, like a fire glowing inside her. And then he kissed her.
It was the last thing she expected – the touch of his mouth against hers – and he pulled back, looking as startled as she felt. She stood frozen.
‘Ah, shit,’ he said, and catching her face in his hands, he kissed her again.
It was like nothing she’d ever felt before, and she reached for him, holding on, afraid she might fall. A swirl of color, greens and blues and lavenders, all dancing around in her head as he kissed her, with slow, deliberate thoroughness. Charles preferred closed-mouth kisses-
But Elric didn’t. He stroked the sides of her face until she opened her mouth for him, and he used his tongue, kissing her with a slow, deliberate care that left her shaking, cold and hot. She had no choice, no thought but to kiss him back, sliding her arms around his neck, pressing her body up against his, the living amethyst between the two of them, between their hearts, and it glowed, burned, sang, as she closed her eyes and let herself sink into the breathless wonder of the kiss.
She didn’t know what would have happened next if the ferret hadn’t scampered across her foot. She jumped away from him, banging her head against his jaw, and looked around her in dismay. Two ferrets, six mice which should have been white but were instead varying shades of purple, and Pywackt, staring at her in haughty disdain, a deep lavender himself, before he started after the mice.
‘You’ve got to stop doing that,’ Elric said. ‘There are already too many rodents in this world.’
Lizzie ignored him, scooping up the mice before Py could get them. A moment later she was holding flowers in her hands, the same roses that had been residing in the now empty vase, and she realized she hadn’t transformed the silver this time. She stuffed the flowers back into the vase, but by this time the ferrets were a pair of leather shoes once more, though Py seemed determined to prove otherwise.
‘That’s a step in the right direction,’ Elric said in a cool voice. At least you didn’t cross elemental boundaries this time.’
‘I did that?’
‘You did. I, however, was the one who turned them back. I think that’s the first thing I need to teach you. How to undo the messes you make.’
She would have argued with him, but she had something more important on her mind. ‘Why did you kiss me?’
He shrugged. ‘I don’t know. Maybe you just needed kissing.’