“Not that.” He lifted his voice and sent a spell shivering through the air. “Maeve!”
“She can’t do anything! The fucking geas is still working,” Helena reminded him. “We’ve got to try it my way. Distract him. Buy me some time.”
“What do you mean to do?”
“Trust me.” She licked dry lips. “I know I fucked up. But trust me.”
The bird stared at her with round yellow eyes, and for once he looked terrified. “All right.” He threw himself in the air and shot toward Conal, fire leaping around him like a torch.
Did I just get him killed too?
Shut it down. This would never work if she didn’t get it together. Helena slammed her eyes shut and fought to ignore the fear, her anguish for Essus and Liam. Most of all, for Conal.
She worked to remember the last time they’d made love. The warm purr of his voice. His hands, tender and arousing, as he caressed her nipples, her breasts, the curve of her hip. Teasing fingers in her pussy. Burning Moon pheromones surrounding her until she could almost see them. Distilled, aching need.
For the first time, Helena sought out the screaming animalistic need that had so shamed her. Simultaneously, she reached for the Mageverse and fed its power to her need. Let it boil as she remembered every touch, every one of Conal’s kisses, every velvet stroke of hands, deep, driving thrust of his cock.
Drinking the Mageverse, she let her blood burn. Refused to think how close Conal was to the edge, or the risk she ran. None of that was important. Conal was important. Because I love him.
When she opened her eyes again, her entire body burned.
He stood over Siobhan as Essus darted around him like a burning hummingbird, screeching in protest. “You can’t! You know you can’t.”
“Who are you to tell me what I can’t do?” Conal’s voice was too deep, shaking the air. His handsome face looked tight with inhuman fury, his body tense, trembling on the edge of violence, driven by the death god’s alien hunger. He looked at Essus with no more warmth than at a mosquito.
Fear tried to rise, the instinct for self-preservation telling her to stay the hell away. She shoved it aside and made herself focus on the width of those broad shoulders. The way he made her feel.
He lifted one hand, whether to knock the eagle away or blast him. “Conal!” Helena let hunger growl in her voice.
He didn’t look away from the bird, tracking. Targeting.
“I need you. Conal, I need you.” She started toward him, drawing on the Burning Moon as if she were about to shift, letting it fill her until her nipples ached and her pussy felt swollen and weirdly… exaggerated. She had to look down to make sure nothing had happened to it. Still the same, thank God. Helena swallowed a half-hysterical bubble of laughter.
The eagle was still circling, Conal focused on him like a cat watching a songbird.
Shit. “Essus, go!”
The bird glanced at her and rolled sideways a heartbeat before Conal blasted him. Screeching in pain, the phoenix eagle darted away. The death god started after him. Oh God, Es! She had to get Conal’s attention off him! I can do this. I’m immune to magic.
But not to a blade between the ribs. Helena ignored the thought and fed more magic to the Burning Moon. “Conal!” she called, grabbing double fistfuls of her dress’s ragged skirts. “Conal Donovan!” He glanced toward her just as she whipped the gown off and dropped it on the ground. Which left her in a tiny pair of red panties, a matching bra, and thigh-high stockings with more runs than a baseball game. Not to mention dirt and bruises, but maybe he wouldn’t notice those against her dark skin.
Conal stilled, blinking in surprise. But power still whipped around him, so coldly menacing she could smell it on the air. Her pheromones hadn’t caught him. Not yet. She needed to be closer.
Fear tried to take control again, but she dragged on the Mageverse with all her strength and sent it pounding through her body until her skin began to burn. Don’t shift! If she shifted, he’d kill her. But if I lose control of my magic, I’ll burn up like a match. I’ve got to do this just right.
“What are you doing?” he asked, in that too loud, too-resonant voice that sounded nothing like Conal.
“What do you think?” She sauntered into the menacing storm of power that surrounded him, smiling. Acting for all she was worth. He stared down at her, his eyes blazing, violent and more than a little mad. And hungry, but not in the way she wanted. If he tries to eat me, will I be immune?
Chapter Nine
“I need you,” Helena said, keeping her voice low, throaty, as she drew on the Mageverse and fed it to her Burning Moon. Her skin began to burn, and she backed the power down a fraction, beating off the shift.
This was dangerous as hell. If the power got away from her, she’d be incinerated. Justice had warned her that kind of thing happened if you shifted too many times too close together. And she wasn’t shifting at all.
Conal glared down at her, eyes narrow with an inhuman hunger -- one she needed to transform into a craving for life. It crossed her mind that they had no condom, but she didn’t dare ask Liam to conjure one. Besides, a baby with violet eyes would be lovely…
She stepped in close, ignoring the way Conal’s power stung and bit her skin, and wrapped her arms around his powerful neck. His eyes narrowed as he stiffened, staring at her without recognition. “Conal,” she breathed, staring up into his face. “It’s me. It’s Helena.”
A thin line creased the flesh between his brows, a trace of puzzlement. He breathed in to speak and fell silent, his eyes widening. He’d caught her scent. Now if only he’d refrain from killing her long enough for the pheromones to work.
Helena stroked a hand over the high rise of his cheekbones, staring deeply into his eyes. A spark of static electricity leaped from one of his metal braids and snapped against her fingers in a painful bite. She ignored it. “I’m in my Burning Moon, Conal,” she breathed. “I need you.” Rising on her toes, she kissed him.
He didn’t move at first, and his lips were hard against hers, unyielding. Yeah, no, she thought, and leaned harder into him. His armor felt unpleasantly hot against her bare skin, like a car hood on a baking summer day. She ignored the sting, brushing her mouth over his. Back and forth. Her tongue licked out, danced over his velvet lower lip. He tasted of smoke and blood and the ozone reek of magic. It was like trying to cuddle a thunderstorm, and the hair on her arms rose. But Helena was damned if she’d give up, so she hummed a seductive note, playing with a lock of his hair with one hand. And concentrated on the hot memory of making love to him -- but more, on the heat of his gaze, that moment of soul-deep connection.
His breath roughened against hers. His lips opened, mouth going yielding, his hands lifting to slide around her waist. He made a low, rumbling sound of hunger. “Who…” He moaned against her lips. “Helena?”
Oh, thank God… She pulled back just far enough to talk. “Yes, it’s me. I need you, Conal. I want you.” Armored hands tightened almost enough to bruise, and she bit back a hiss of pain as he shoved her back so hard, she almost fell on her ass.
His eyes flared wide. “No. No, you can’t. We’re not safe, we’ll hurt you…”