Dark Deceiver. Pamela Palmer

make the phone call.”

      She met his gaze without flinching. “I will. As soon as I’m sure I didn’t give you a concussion. Now, sit down so I can reach you.” Laughter sparkled in her eyes. “I don’t think I’ve ever said that to anyone before. Except my dad. He’s not as tall as you, but he’s close.”

      “Does he also have hair the color of yours?”

      “Oh, yes.” The words came out on a sigh. “I got all my quirky traits from my dad. You’d never believe I was related to the rest of my family. My mom’s a five-foot-four blond ballet teacher. Both my sisters look just like her.”

      “Their loss.” He wasn’t sure where he’d picked up the term, but the quick grin that lit her face made the breath catch in his throat. She had a smile fit for royalty.

      “Thanks.” Her expression turned unaccountably shy. “Now, umm, come sit down so I can check your eyes.”

      “My eyes?”

      “The dilation. I want to make sure I didn’t give you a concussion.” She slid the soft pads of her fingers around the much larger bones of his wrist and tugged him toward the sofa.

      Would Esri eyes react like human eyes? He couldn’t be sure and couldn’t take the chance, not when he’d finally made contact with one who could lead him to his prey.

      He was about to try to push the thought into her head that his eyes were fine when she glanced back at him with an impish sparkle. “I’ve seen this done on TV a million times.”

      The glitter of self-directed humor told him she laughed at herself, but it was the wry quirk of her lips that drew his gaze and aroused his hunger. And when her soft palm pressed against his chest, urging him to sit, he unleashed the desire that had plagued him from the moment her fingers had first eased into his hair. He kissed her, dipping his head and pressing his mouth against the extraordinary softness of her lips.

      The woman stiffened at the contact. Her eyes opened wide with surprise, but she showed no fear, and didn’t pull away.

      His lips moved over hers lightly, sampling the sweetness of that tempting flesh, drinking the spicy fragrance of her skin. She tasted of honey and cinnamon, and alluring, intoxicating female. He’d had females before, though he’d rarely kissed them, for only those who sought the titillation of fear with their mating came near him. This was so very, very different.

      He felt the moment her mouth softened beneath his and began to move, joining the kiss. A sound escaped her throat. Half sigh, half moan. All pleasure.

      He didn’t touch her except where their lips met, yet the force of that touch swept him beyond himself, beyond mattering, tugging at places inside him that had lain cold and dormant for too long.

      Stirring a need…a weakness…

      He pulled away. “I have no concussion.”

      The human…Autumn…blinked, her cheeks flushed and rosy, her expression flustered. “I…umm…right. No concussion.” The flashlight slipped from her fingers and thudded against the wooden coffee table, making her jump. She backed away from him, knocking into the table and nearly dislodging a cup, sending it into a precarious wobble. “You…should go. I’ll tell Larsen you were here.”

      He shouldn’t have kissed her. Touching her…tasting her…did things to him, weakened him in ways he could ill afford. And with this small aggression, he’d apparently frightened her. A serious mistake when his goal was to win her trust.

      His hands fisted and unfisted at his sides as his brain searched for a way to bring her back under his control without frightening her again. Since he couldn’t seem to control her thoughts, perhaps he had no choice but to back away and try to approach her again at a later time. As if he had time.

      What a fool he’d been to kiss her, no matter how pleasant he’d found the experience.

      “I’ll go, then,” he said reluctantly. “Tell…ask…Larsen to call me.”

      “Oh. Right. I need to get your number.” Autumn lifted her palm to her forehead as if trying to gather her wits. As she did, her sweater sleeve dropped, revealing the oddly rustic bracelet twisted around her wrist. It almost looked like…holly. Of course! The plant was scarce in Esria, for it had the disturbing ability to thwart and confound magic. No wonder he’d failed to control her.

      If he could get the holly away from her, he might salvage this day’s work after all.

      He followed Autumn to the kitchen counter, standing at her elbow where he could easily reach her, watching as she picked up a pen and a small pad of paper.

      Not meeting his gaze, she asked, “What’s your number?”

      “Two-oh-two,” he began, then slowly reached out to stroke her bracelet. “I like the look of this.” He allowed his fingers to slide across the soft skin of her wrist while he shoved thoughts into her head.

      The holly itches. I need to take it off.

      “No.” Her voice was a whisper, as if she spoke to herself.

      The holly itches. I can’t stand having it touch my skin.

      “No, I can’t,” she murmured, but even as she said the words, her other hand grabbed the bracelet, wrenched it off her wrist, and dropped it to the counter.

      Kaderil snatched her hand before she gathered her wits, and continued his assault on her mind. I don’t want Kade to leave. I want him to touch me. As long as he could keep hold of her, he could get her to lead him to Larsen Vale.

      With her free hand, she rubbed at her wrist where the holly had been, her gaze fixed on her task. Kaderil brushed her fingers aside and stroked the soft skin for her. “Is that better?”

      “Yes.” The word was full of confusion, a lost sound that resonated uncomfortably in the hollows of his heart, pricking his conscience.

      He pushed the feeling aside. He needed to learn what he could from her, anything that might help him find that draggon stone and destroy the Sitheen. Using the link formed by the press of skin on skin, he reached into her mind and absorbed the wealth of knowledge he found there, an amazing array of facts about archaeology and artifacts, folklore and past human civilizations. And, as often happened when he eavesdropped on a human’s mind, he got little in the way of concrete memories, mostly impressions and opinions.

      Beneath his fingers, her pulse began to quicken. He was frightening her again. A poor way to earn her trust. He released her arm and was about to step back, when her gaze lifted to his, stopping him.

      There was no fear in her expression. No uncertainty at all. And he realized, suddenly, that it wasn’t fear driving her speeding pulse. Sweet Esria, it was desire. Her eyes fairly blazed with it.

      Before he could fully grasp this sudden change in her, she reached for him, pulled his face down, and pressed her mouth hard to his.

      Need surged through his body. Shock flooded his brain at the sudden closeness. At the feel of a woman pressed against him, not in fear, but in desire.

      His body rose even as his mind rebelled. Too close. He was the Punisher. He kept others at bay for a reason. Just as he never wanted his own people to learn of his great lack of power, he couldn’t let the humans know he was more than human.

      He grabbed her shoulders, his mind insisting he push her away. But her tongue swept into his mouth and all thought fled. His arms went around her, pulling her tight against him. He reveled in the feel of her soft breasts pressed against his chest, her thighs pushing against his.

      He fell into the chaos, sliding and twining his tongue with hers, tracing the contours of her teeth and mouth, drinking the passion she’d suddenly, miraculously, given in to. Her hands roamed his back with growing need. He basked in her heat.

      Her hands curved around the back of his neck, pulling him closer, telling him in no uncertain terms that she wanted him. The knowledge rocked