This is a place frequented by sorcerers.”
There was a slight purr in his voice and it seemed to vibrate its way right down to her chest and into her breasts before making her nipples ache.
Damnit. He was a walking, talking sex god and she had the orgasmic memories to prove it.
She retreated. The gleam in Taine’s eyes and dip of his gaze to the front of her shirt was accompanied by a flashed smile.
“Check your ego,” she grumbled.
His smile reappeared, slow and sensuous and inviting.
A lesser woman would have pitched forward. She glanced away—with effort—and noticed the sea shells on the shelves holding liquor bottles, realized that the cushions lining the booth’s bench seats had the swirling brown and cream pattern of a nautilus. Even the name of the place was symbolic. The Deep.
“I’m sensing a theme,” she said, and charms would explain the imagined trident, the glimmer that made her think scales when it came to the waitress and the men who’d walked past the booth.
She looked at the bartender and squinted.
Taine carried her hand to his mouth and nibbled on her knuckles, drawing her attention back to him.
“Good thing we stopped for food,” she said, turning her head far enough for the bartender to edge into sight.
She squinted again, trying to conjure a glimmer at least. Taine said, “You’ve got a limiting immunity or you’d see them clearly.”
That snapped her eyes to his. “What about you?”
“I can see what they’re meant to be.”
“Like the people here are at a costume party?”
He laughed. “That works.”
It kind of bummed her out. It’d be cool to see the magic show. But on the other hand, immunity to sorcerers’ illusions seemed like a good thing. Right?
“So what’s the waitress supposed to be?”
“A siren. Also known as a water nymph.”
“And the bartender?”
“A merman.”
Taine’s cellphone rang, as did several others from the line of booths. He answered, listened, put his phone back in his pocket and said, “We’ll have to eat in the car. There’s a fire.”
“Where?”
“Cleveland National Forest.”
They grabbed their food and left.
Taine hit a switch, activating lights in the front grill and a siren. He peeled away from The Deep, and at first, dodging traffic took all his concentration.
When that was no longer the case, he had to fight against exhaling flame.
Love makes a man stupid . That was his sole defense.
In The Deep he’d had the perfect opportunity to slip I’m a dragon into the conversation, but what had he done? He’d let her believe spells made the bartender and waitress appear as something other than human, when in fact, the beings there had loosened the containment of their magic.
It was a tricky sleight of words that now created a hard place in his chest. What he’d told Saffron wasn’t quite a lie. But it wasn’t the full truth either.
She wasn’t immune to sorcerers’ transformation spells. But she was limited in her ability to see the essence of the beings who’d crammed themselves into a human form.
Instead of, I can see what they’re meant to be , he should have told her that they shimmered in human sight but were clearly visible in both human form and native form in the eyes of other supernaturals. That the bartender was a merman and the waitress was a siren. Which would have led, conveniently, to and I’m a dragon .
Instinct had probably been responsible for his taking her to The Deep. The sooner she knew what he was, the sooner she could reciprocate a bond.
He glanced at his mate, felt the swell of a multitude of emotions. Her accepting that supernatural beings might be present in this realm wasn’t a huge leap after watching Kristof and the astrologist at work, and after accepting that a phoenix egg could be pulled into this world through a portal.
But…
Love makes a man stupid .
On the precipice of the perfect time for revealing what he was, her earlier warning had reared up like a sea
There was a slight purr in his voice and it seemed to vibrate its way right down to her chest and into her breasts before making her nipples ache.
Damnit. He was a walking, talking sex god and she had the orgasmic memories to prove it.
She retreated. The gleam in Taine’s eyes and dip of his gaze to the front of her shirt was accompanied by a flashed smile.
“Check your ego,” she grumbled.
His smile reappeared, slow and sensuous and inviting.
A lesser woman would have pitched forward. She glanced away—with effort—and noticed the sea shells on the shelves holding liquor bottles, realized that the cushions lining the booth’s bench seats had the swirling brown and cream pattern of a nautilus. Even the name of the place was symbolic. The Deep.
“I’m sensing a theme,” she said, and charms would explain the imagined trident, the glimmer that made her think scales when it came to the waitress and the men who’d walked past the booth.
She looked at the bartender and squinted.
Taine carried her hand to his mouth and nibbled on her knuckles, drawing her attention back to him.
“Good thing we stopped for food,” she said, turning her head far enough for the bartender to edge into sight.
She squinted again, trying to conjure a glimmer at least. Taine said, “You’ve got a limiting immunity or you’d see them clearly.”
That snapped her eyes to his. “What about you?”
“I can see what they’re meant to be.”
“Like the people here are at a costume party?”
He laughed. “That works.”
It kind of bummed her out. It’d be cool to see the magic show. But on the other hand, immunity to sorcerers’ illusions seemed like a good thing. Right?
“So what’s the waitress supposed to be?”
“A siren. Also known as a water nymph.”
“And the bartender?”
“A merman.”
Taine’s cellphone rang, as did several others from the line of booths. He answered, listened, put his phone back in his pocket and said, “We’ll have to eat in the car. There’s a fire.”
“Where?”
“Cleveland National Forest.”
They grabbed their food and left.
Taine hit a switch, activating lights in the front grill and a siren. He peeled away from The Deep, and at first, dodging traffic took all his concentration.
When that was no longer the case, he had to fight against exhaling flame.
Love makes a man stupid . That was his sole defense.
In The Deep he’d had the perfect opportunity to slip I’m a dragon into the conversation, but what had he done? He’d let her believe spells made the bartender and waitress appear as something other than human, when in fact, the beings there had loosened the containment of their magic.
It was a tricky sleight of words that now created a hard place in his chest. What he’d told Saffron wasn’t quite a lie. But it wasn’t the full truth either.
She wasn’t immune to sorcerers’ transformation spells. But she was limited in her ability to see the essence of the beings who’d crammed themselves into a human form.
Instead of, I can see what they’re meant to be , he should have told her that they shimmered in human sight but were clearly visible in both human form and native form in the eyes of other supernaturals. That the bartender was a merman and the waitress was a siren. Which would have led, conveniently, to and I’m a dragon .
Instinct had probably been responsible for his taking her to The Deep. The sooner she knew what he was, the sooner she could reciprocate a bond.
He glanced at his mate, felt the swell of a multitude of emotions. Her accepting that supernatural beings might be present in this realm wasn’t a huge leap after watching Kristof and the astrologist at work, and after accepting that a phoenix egg could be pulled into this world through a portal.
But…
Love makes a man stupid .
On the precipice of the perfect time for revealing what he was, her earlier warning had reared up like a sea
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