Her gaze clung to his as she moved slowly toward him. There was something there, waiting just beyond his glowing intensity. She came to a halt before him and looked up at him searchingly. It was still there, still waiting. She had always hated waiting, she thought hazily, and this waiting was centuries old and curiously timeless.

His hand was waiting for her, too, outstretched in silent invitation. She slipped her small hand into his large one with the supreme naturalness of a trusting child and suddenly experienced a tingling shock of sensation that was immediately drowned in a sparkling sense of perfect Tightness. “Hello,” she whispered.

“Hello,” he said thickly. “Welcome home, love.”

Home. Yes, that's what was waiting for her. Why hadn't she realized it? What had been before, was happening again. A smile suddenly lit her face with radiance. “Oh, I'm so happy. I do love-” She broke off. There was something wrong. She frowned, trying to pierce the mists obscuring the shining truth she'd known just a minute before. “Zack?”

His smile was fading as his hand tightened around her own. “I'm still here, Kira. I'll always be here.”

“Yes, I know, but there's something wrong. Something-” She stopped again. Then she shook her head as if to clear it. Crazy. What had happened was completely crazy. Her nerves must be more strained than she thought to have tricked her into a wild flight of fancy. She closed her eyes for an instant and drew a deep, steadying breath. She was experiencing a poignant disappointment that was shaking her to the core and was as insane as the rest of it. She didn't want to return to reality when that moment of piercing recognition had been so magnificent. Recognition? Oh, Lord, she was going mad. Her eyes opened and she smiled with forced gaiety. “Sorry. I think you must have mesmerized me for a moment. Are you sure you're not a shaman too?”

There was a flicker in his eyes that might have reflected the same wild disappointment she was feeling. “I'm sure.”

“Well, you could have fooled me,” she said flippantly. “Do you get that response from Mallory Thane too?”

“No.”

Kira could feel the wild color sting her cheeks. She was suddenly feverish. “I'm surprised.” Her tongue moistened her lower lip. “I hear you're quite the ladies' man and she's known to be-”

“Be quiet.” His voice was very soft to be so commanding. “I know you're frightened, but stop trying to put barriers between us.” He released her hand and suddenly was cupping her shoulders. He shook her gently. “Mallory Thane isn't important. None of them were important, and now they're all simply past history.”

She wouldn't look at him. Her gaze was fastened stubbornly on the middle of his chest. “You were expecting her here last night.”

“No, I wasn't expecting anyone but you.”

She believed him, and that was as crazy and frightening as everything else that had gone before. “I don't understand any of this.”

“You will.” His hands moved from her shoulders gently to cup her face in his palms. “It isn't time yet. Trust me, Kira.”

“I'm trying.” Her words were a mere whisper. “I have to trust someone. I don't seem to have much confidence in myself anymore.”

“Do you suppose you could stretch that faith enough to look up at me?” There was a thread of gentle humor in his voice. “I think your fierce glare is burning a hole through my breastbone.”

Her gaze lifted, and his look of tenderness and understanding was like a soothing balm to her troubled spirit.

“That's better.” He smiled. “For a moment I thought we'd skipped a few hurdles, but evidently it wasn't meant to be.” His thumbs splayed out across her cheekbones to rub gently at the corners of her lips. “Perhaps it's better this way. We have so much to experience, and everything is bright and shining and new.” His head came down slowly. “I'm going to kiss you. Is that all right with you, love?”

He was only a breath away, his dark eyes holding her own. She could feel the warmth radiating from his body and smell the clean, fresh scent of him. Her throat was so tight the assent came out a little huskily. “Yes.”

She had expected warmth and gentleness, but not the honey sweetness. His lips were hard and firm, yet they wooed and tempted, cherished and promised. He built labyrinths of golden intimacy and then led her through them so lovingly she thought her heart would stop with each new, exquisite twist and turn. She didn't know how many times their lips met and parted or how many ways his hands moved and angled her head to take and give and take again. Time flowed, intimacy deepened. Time flowed again. Such a beautiful, meaningful circle, she thought dreamily.

His head lifted at last and he looked down at her. His eyes were night-black, the pupils dilated. “Good?” he asked softly.

“Wonderful…” She wished he hadn't stopped.

Her lips felt soft, pliant; she ached for the sweetness of his lips, and the pain was almost as sharp as the desire she'd known last night. How strange and wonderful were the heights to which his mere kiss could lift her. “I wish it could go on forever.”

“It can't, though.” His lips were pressing soft, loving kisses on her cheeks, the tip of her nose, her temple. “There's too much electricity stored up between us.” He tilted her head back and his warm lips drifted over the sensitive cord of her throat. “It has to change, but we'll always have this to come back to, you know.”

“Will we?” It was very comforting to know that, she thought hazily. But he was right; it was already changing. His lips were growing hotter against her throat and she could see his chest rising and falling with the harshness of his breathing. The tiny changes she could detect in his body triggered identical ones within her own. She was no longer languid and dreamy.

The sensations she was feeling now were all sharp and aching and fever-hot, and she wasn't sure she wanted to be jarred out of blissful euphoria. There was a liquid throbbing between her thighs and her breasts felt full and painfully swollen. She wished he'd move his hands from her face and put them on her breasts. Perhaps that caress would ease their strange aching. She was vaguely surprised that the desire didn't shock her. She had never before wanted a man's hands on her, touching intimately. Yet she supposed it shouldn't have surprised her. There was no comparing any of the emotions she was feeling for Zack with those in her previous experience.

The muscles of his body were hardening, rippling. She was aware of that meaningful tautening, even though he was only touching her with his hands. His body was readying itself. The knowledge sent a near savage jolt of pure desire through her. He wanted her. She could see the pulse leaping crazily in his temple and feel the soft nip of his teeth on the flesh of her throat.

“You see?” His voice was guttural. He lifted his head and his face was flushed and heavy with sensuality. “It never stays the same. There's too much waiting for us.”

“Yes,” she whispered. She wondered if her eyes were as glazed and wanting as his. They probably were. She felt as if every breath she drew was exploding little fiery sparks into her bloodstream.

“I want to touch you. I want my hands on you.”

“Yes,” she said again. She couldn't seem to say anything else to him. Response and assent. The reaction was as basic as nature itself.

“You want it too? I don't want to take, Kira.”

“I want it too.”

His lips curved in a rare smile. “That's all I wanted to know. I'm surprised I even had the restraint to look this particular gift horse in the mouth. Come along, love.”

He was taking her by the hand and, to her surprise, leading her away from the bed across the room. “Where are we going?”

“Right here.” He had stopped beside the deep-cushioned contemporary easy chair against the wall. He sat down and positioned her between his legs. “If we used the bed, I'm sure this preliminary foray would result in an instant merger.” His hands were swiftly untying the belt of her robe.

She felt a swift thrust of disappointment. “I assumed you had grown impatient with your little anticipatory game.”

“I am impatient,” he said dryly. “And hurting and…” He opened the robe and stared at her for a long moment. She felt scorched, burned, and knew her body was responding helplessly and very obviously to his hot, lingering appraisal. The sheer veiling of the yellow chiffon nightgown might just as well not have been there for all the covering it gave her. “Oh, Lord, am I hurting.”

And so was she. The robe dropped, making a pool of sunshine color on the dark brown carpet at her feet, and she stood before him in only the sheer nightgown. There was something vaguely barbaric about their positions-Zack sitting fully clothed and she standing almost naked between his legs like a slave girl waiting to pleasure him.

“What are you thinking about?” His gaze had moved from her body to her face. The tip of his tongue reached out to moisten his lower lip and the unconscious motion sent a surge of aching tension to every muscle in her body. Sweet heaven, those lips were so diabolically and beautifully sensual in his taut face.

“I think you know.”

“I probably have a good idea.” His gaze traveled slowly from the creamy satin of her shoulders to the full thrust of her breasts against the chiffon. “Do you like me to look at you?”

“Yes.”

“That's good. I think there's every chance it will be one of my very favorite things to do.” He slowly reached up and slid first one thin strap off her shoulder, then the other. The bodice of the gown slipped until only the swollen fullness of her breasts was holding the clinging material in place. Zack leaned back in the chair and simply looked at her for a long moment. “You have wonderful skin. It radiates a sheen that glows with life.”