Bound by Flame by Anna Windsor Page B

away from her.
    Body roaring in protest, Nick turned Cynda loose. She looked conflicted and uncomfortable, and her voice came out in a whisper as she said, “You’ve got another day to find Jake. That’s all I can give you. I’m sorry.”
    Nick’s chest tightened.
    Don’t push .
    Fuck he wanted to. Push, grope, ignite, satisfy…
    But she really was fragile right now. He could see it in those beautiful eyes, feel it in his blood, even though he wished he didn’t. Her softness, the way she seemed like she might break from a single word, made him ache for her all the more.
    He reached out and cupped her cheek, running his thumb along her jawline until he saw her shiver. She didn’t ask him to stop, or turn her face away from his touch, so he stroked her jaw again. She seemed to loosen all over, as if she might want him to hold her after all.
    “We’ll talk about Jake later, firebird.” Nick brushed her hair behind her ears, then risked a kiss to the top of her head, which she didn’t resist. “And us.”
    “We say that a lot,” she murmured, gazing up at him with those gorgeous green eyes. “Later for this, later for that. We’re storing too many emotions and problems on back burners, don’t you think?”
    “Everything’s staying warm.” Nick lowered his head and moved his lips across her cheek, up, then down, toward her neck. At her ear, he said, “Some things might get hotter.”
    Cynda trembled outright, and moved into him, just a step, the slightest movement, but Nick savored the fresh brush of her body against his. When his fingers slid down to her neck, she caught them and, half-mad, half-playful, said, “Stop that.”
    He kept his eyes on hers and his hand wrapped in her fingers. “Do you really want me to stop?”
    Cynda sucked in a breath. “No. Damn you.”
    She closed her eyes, then opened them and let go of his hand. “But we have to get back downstairs and deal with this J. C. Downy revelation.”
    Nick stroked her cheek once more, taking his time, reminding himself that he could be patient even if the top of his head blew off his body. Not to mention his cock. Waiting was what she needed right now, what she had to have.
    He could give that to her.
    Nick realized that if he could, he would give Cynda anything she wanted. Anything in the world.
    When he nodded and took his hand from her face, Cynda’s expression shifted between disappointment and relief—with a touch of the devil.
    Be sure, firebird. Because I’m sure. And I’m not waiting much longer.
    “Duty first,” she said as she slipped around him and headed toward the door. “Pleasure later.”
    “I’ll remember that,” he muttered as she escaped the bedroom and started down the hall.
    Nick made a quick check of his clothes and his already-laceless boots.
    Nothing smoking or burning.
    Miracle.
    Less than fifteen minutes later, Nick sat next to his brother in the ballroom-turned–conference room, in a row of folding chairs, trying to pay attention to the daily briefing even though Creed was aggravating the living piss out of him.
    “Her room’s three doors from yours.” Creed gave Nick’s arm a punch. “Just knock and slip in one night, and give it to her fast and hard. She’ll still respect you in the morning.”
    “If you weren’t my brother, I’d let you go a round with my other, ” Nick said in a low, menacing tone.
    Creed snorted. “I faced huge, snarling Russian wolves to get my woman. Surely you can handle a little fire.”
    “Don’t start with the wolves again.” Nick let Gideon’s golden glow shine through his whole body. “I mean it.”
    Creed laughed some more, but shut up. Finally.
    At the front of the room, Sal Freeman banged on a chalkboard and yammered at the group of twenty or so OCU officers. Cynda’s triad, a ragtag group of ranger Sibyls, and triads from South Queens and North and South Brooklyn stood to the sides, listening.
    The Sibyl numbers were dwindling fast.
    Nick ground his teeth.