‘I know,’ he said. ‘Let’s start with sex.’

She should have said no. Her entire life had turned upside down, all thanks to the man kneeling in front of her, and he seemed to regret it even more than she did. And it wasn’t helping that every time he touched her she could feel light and color flooding through her body, and she was tired of being gray and ordinary.

But she wasn’t going down without a fight. ‘Okay, let’s look at this logically. You’ve got some delusion that we’re trapped in the curse of true love, though I’m not sure I understand why it’s a curse. So if I sleep with you, it’ll either free you from that delusion, which would be a relief, or convince you that it’s true, which would be revenge. If I sent you away right now, I know that you’d go, and sooner or later you’d realize it was only temporary insanity and you’d forget all about me, and I’d marry Charles if he ever gets back from Alaska and remembers who I am, and I’ll have a safe, ordinary life, which is everything I always wanted. The trouble is, I don’t want to marry Charles after all.’

‘Oh, God,’ he said weakly. ‘Do I have to marry you, too?’

‘Revenge is sounding good to me,’ she said, half to herself. She scooted down on the bed, the purple sheets pulled up to her armpits, and closed her eyes. ‘Have at it.’


If Elric had any doubts as to the scope of this catastrophe, looking down at Lizzie as she lay on the bed, swaddled like a mummy in purple satin, her blond curls tangled around her pale face, her eyes tightly shut, convinced him it was all too terribly, horribly true. He was in love with her. He didn’t need the purple rim around his eyes to prove it – all he had to do was look at her and he was lost.

She was fighting it even harder than he was, but then, she didn’t know it was hopeless.

He leaned over her, taking the edge of the sheet and tugging gently. She quivered for a moment, keeping her hands at her sides, effectively keeping the sheet over her, but he was a lot more experienced than she was, and he simply pulled it down, away from her body, tossing it on the floor beside the bed.

She was the most luscious thing he’d ever seen in his entire life. Smooth, creamy skin, smallish breasts, soft and small and sleek. A far cry from the experienced, sophisticated women he tended to sleep with, and she was absolutely, shyly irresistible.

He put his hand on her ankle and she jerked, her eyes opening for a minute and then shutting again. This was probably the way Charles did it – with Lizzie lying passively, missionary style, while he groaned and sweated over her. He might have to kill Charles.

Or at least turn him into a moose. Moose did well in Alaska, didn’t they? Maybe a polar bear would eat him.

But he wasn’t interested in thinking about Charles at the moment. He kissed her ankle by the side of her brand-new tattoo, tasting the rose-scented soap she’d bathed in. He kissed her behind her knee, and he could feel the tremors run through her body. Fear or arousal? Or a heady combination of both? He kissed the inside of her thigh, the soft skin at her hip, and she was trembling in earnest now, her eyes tightly shut. Poor baby, she had no idea what was in store for her.

He kissed her other ankle, moving up her legs with slow, lingering kisses, and his hands cupped the full sweetness of her hips.

‘Open your legs for me, Lizzie,’ he whispered. She opened her eyes instead. ‘What?’ she demanded, shocked.

‘This doesn’t work with your legs together, sweetness. Hadn’t you figured that out yet?’

‘But…’

‘Open your legs for me,’ he said again, helping her, pushing them apart and moving between them, and she braced herself, expecting God knows what. He hadn’t even taken his pants off yet.

She really was the most adorable, pathetic creature right now. So frightened, so needy. So why was he shaking, too?

He pulled her toward him and put his mouth between her legs, because he needed to, and she let out a shriek loud enough to rouse the neighbors. Her hands left the bed to clutch his shoulders, pushing at him. ‘Don’t do that,’ she said, a thread of desperation in her voice.

He looked up at her. ‘Why? Is it sinful?’

‘You shouldn’t… I can’t… you wouldn’t…’

‘I like it,’ he said, touching her. She was slick and wet, even before he’d gone down on her, and she was wound up so tightly she might burst. He wanted her to burst. To split apart, into a thousand pieces, and then he could pull her back together again.

All it took was the touch of his tongue, and she began to spasm, her body contracting in helpless pleasure. He held her there, for long, endless moments, letting the waves of her release fall around him, and as each one began to subside he would bring it on again, with his fingers deep inside her, with his tongue, his lips, his teeth, until she was sobbing, rigid, gasping for breath, and then he took her further still, into a dark, hot place that even he seldom reached.

When he sat back on his heels, kneeling between her legs, she tried to curl up, in on herself, hiding her face, hiding her body, sobbing, and he knew if he let her she’d keep hiding. He pushed her back against the sheets, gently, covering her body with his and kissing her mouth. And another orgasm caught her body with weary pleasure.

He hadn’t even realized how fucking hard he was – he’d been concentrating so intently on her response that he hadn’t even realized he was about to explode. He’d barely started with her, hadn’t gotten to the sweet perfection of her small breasts, the smooth curve of her back, the softness of her butt. He wanted to touch everything, inside and out, he wanted to take her places he barely knew himself, and he shoved the loose white pants off, leaving him naked and so painfully aroused he didn’t know if he’d ever manage to get off.

‘No.’ The voice was no more than a plaintive whisper, and yet it was like a death knell. He could change her mind, all he had to do was touch her and she’d forget that she ever said no. But her hands came up to push at his chest, and he fell back, away, onto the bed beside her, barely able to catch his breath. If she really wanted revenge she couldn’t have picked a crueler one. He closed his eyes, trying to control the tension that drummed through his body. He didn’t know where he’d get the strength to move, to leave her, he only knew he had to, because she’d said no after all, and maybe he’d been wrong about the purple in her baby blue eyes, and maybe…

Her mouth touched his, her lips feathering across his with sweet, soft kisses, and he stared up into the lavender shadows of her eyes, confused and so damned needy he thought he might never walk again. She’d gotten to her knees, leaning over him, her scattered curls falling in her face as she kissed him, his mouth, his eye-lids, the pulse in his throat, moving down his chest with slow, delicious, torturous bites and licks and kisses, and he needed her to just touch him, just lightly, please, so he could die a happy man, as her tongue touched his navel, working downward, and he knew he was going to die and he was happy to do so.

Her hands were cool, soft, as she touched him, encircling him, holding him, and he wanted to teach her, tell her what to do, but her very helplessness made it even more powerful, and when she leaned down and put her unpracticed mouth on his cock he felt the power of it through every cell in his body.

And he knew he certainly wasn’t going to last long at that rate. He let himself absorb the sweetness of her mouth for a moment, then gently lifted her away, ignoring her sound of protest.

‘Later,’ he said, sliding her onto her back. ‘We have time for everything.’ And he pushed inside her, filling her tight, clamping sweetness with his cock, pushing in so deeply that she gasped, her breath catching as he filled her.

They both froze, staring into each other’s eyes. Lavender into violet, wizard into wizard, and it was so right he would have cried, if he was a man who cried.

She reached up and smoothed the moisture away from his eyes, her fingers shaking, and then she pulled him down to kiss him, and he lost the last tiny bit of control he’d been clinging to. He pulled her legs up, tight around his hips. He tried to move slowly, deliberately, but her fingernails were digging into his back, she was shivering and shattering in his arms, and he could feel her body clamp around his, and there was no holding back. He followed her down the dark slide into eternity, feeling it burst around them in a flame of colors. And there was nothing left at all.


Dee told herself she was on a mission from God. She couldn’t just sit in Salem’s Fork waiting for Xan to bring disaster down on them. She had to try and prevent it, and the only way she knew was to find her aunt before she had a chance to act. Xan was close, metaphysically. Dee could feel it. So she searched for her like Tommy Lee Jones tracking a fleeing felon. She refused to admit that she was using her search as a means of avoiding Danny.

He’d bought her Nutter Butter bars. He’d fed her onion rings. She hadn’t even been able to dredge up the courage to so much as kiss him thank-you. After all, how gracious would it be to respond to such kindness by sending the man into therapy for the rest of his adult life? Especially a man who’d just said that he loved her.

What if Xan was right? What if Dee actually had found her true love, only to have to give him away again? She’d never had to survive that kind of alone before.

So, she ran. The problem was, Danny James refused to be left behind.

‘Butterflies make me hot,’ he whispered as they stalked the halls of the General Lee Motel. Dee was trying to be surreptitious, but she knew she looked like a German shepherd sniffing out bombs. Come to think of it, if she weren’t so distracted, it might have been easier to shift into one. Nobody stared at a dog that sniffed the air.