Caine pulled her arms from his neck, gently pushing her back. “Rosalind. Get control of the aura.”
The green tendrils spiraled through her in whirlwinds, and she tried to get control of them, but the spirit was stronger. It began speaking in Angelic, and Rosalind’s body hummed with the growing aura, a thrilling rush of power.
At her words, the incubus’s eyes widened, and he spun her around, wrapping his strong arms around her. He clamped a hand over her mouth to silence her.
She didn’t like being pinned. Rage burned through her nerves, and she bit into his fingers, drawing blood. He released her, and she broke into a run through the forest, the damp air whispering over her skin. This was Cleo’s true home, her world before the evil ones snatched it away from her.. How would you like the flames, Rosalind?
The spirit forced her to stop and hold out her arms. Somewhere inside, Rosalind screamed, trying to regain control. The scent of burning flesh filled the air, and in the next instant, searing pain ripped her apart. Flames blazed from her limbs, and she loosed an agonized scream.
It must have been only a few moments before a pair of masculine arms surrounded her again, cooling the flames.
In the next instant, Caine slipped the iron ring on her finger, and Rosalind let out a long, shuddering breath. Her body trembled. She’d only been on fire for a few moments, but the ghost of her torment still whispered through her nerve-endings, reverberating in her skull.
“Fire,” she whispered.
“I’m sorry.” His voice was so quiet she hardly heard him.
Her breath rasped, and he held her from behind, his skin smooth over muscled arms.
Exhausted, she melted into him. “She called you Richard.”
“I never knew my spirit’s name before,” said Caine. “But as soon as she said it, I recognized it.”
“You said the name Cleo.”
He took a deep breath. “Richard knew her. There was some connection between them. I’m guessing they were lovers.”
“She was starting to chant a spell. What did it mean? Why did you stop her?”
His arms loosened. “An aphrodisiac,” he said, his voice husky. “If she’d finished it, I wouldn’t have been able to control what happened next.”
“She has a one track mind.”
“Can you blame her? It’s probably been hundreds of years since she inhabited a human body. She obviously wants to make the most of it.”
She stepped out of his arms, turning to look at him. “That was a total disaster. She wanted me to burn. She was vengeful, and I had no control over her. I don’t think I’ve ever failed at anything so shockingly. I’d rather fight the Brotherhood with weapons.”
“That won’t work.”
“This won’t work.” Her nerves were frayed, the memory of pain still whispering through her. “I can’t control her. She’s too powerful.”
“It was only your second try. Aurora was right. You need to rest and eat. You won’t be able to gain control of anything when your body is falling apart.”
She dug her palms into her eyes, trying not to think of what might be happening to the captive incubus. “We need another plan.”
Chapter 24
By the time they reached Caine’s house, the rising sun stained the sky a pale coral, streaked with steel. Caine opened his front door into a quiet house.
In his living room, someone had drawn the curtains closed, and only a faint glow filtered in through the edges, dimly lighting the living room and kitchen.
In the darkness, Rosalind could just make out that Aurora had fallen asleep on the sofa, while Tammi dozed in an armchair, wrapped up in a blanket.
Caine trod quietly into the kitchen, motioning to one of the chairs that stood by the marble island. “Have a seat. I’m going to make you some food.”
He lit a candle, and it cast a wavering light over the countertop.
Her stomach grumbled, and she wasn’t going to argue with that declaration. “You said you didn’t know how to cook.”
“I lied.” He pulled a bowl of eggs and another of ricotta from the refrigerator.
At the sight of actual human food, her stomach rumbled. “What are you making?”
He cracked an egg into a bowl. “Something you may remember from Maremount. Or not, in all likelihood.”
She straightened, suddenly alert. “I don’t remember the food. The one thing I remember clearly is your eyes.”
He paused for a moment, his hand hovering in the air, clutching an egg. “You remember me? Are you sure?”
“I remember a boy with eyes your color. They’re quite memorable.” Her gaze roamed over his muscular arms, and an uncomfortable thought twisted in her gut. “You promise you weren’t my stepbrother?”
He worked the eggs and ricotta into a batter. “Would it bother you if I was your stepbrother?”