She felt him slide down the length of her body. She felt his touch, so evocative, so arousing that she was nearly delirious. Her life had been the Dragonslayer and the academy for so long...but she knew that wouldn’t have mattered. Nothing would have mattered. There were people who changed reality for others, created magic for them, and Malachi was that magic for her. She had never wanted anyone so much, never felt so afire, so hungry. And his every touch fulfilled her. His intimacy brought her almost to the brink, teased her and let her slip to become almost insanely aroused again. And then, he thrust deeply into her, filled her, and his movements elicited that same fevered urgency.
The world around her seemed to spin, to disappear, and yet to become achingly real. She was fascinated by his touch. His hair, the wicked movement of his muscles. She arched and writhed against him until the fire within her seemed to explode. She felt him explode within her as well, and for a moment, she simply luxuriated in the sensation of winding down. When she did, she felt the coolness of the air around them and she smiled. Sex wasn’t new; it was as old as life on earth. And yet she couldn’t help feeling that they had somehow reinvented the wonder of it all that night.
She smoothed back a lock of her hair and curled up against his chest. “Is...was that allowed?” she asked.
She saw the curve of his lips. “I didn’t ask anyone’s permission.”
“Yes, but...”
“I think it’s okay. Jackson is with Angela. Will is with Kat. We have two other couples in the teams. Maybe it has to do with our unique talents.” He rolled so that they faced each other. “And maybe it’s because, somehow, these situations just bring us together with the most fascinating people in the country.”
She smiled again and leaned back, staring up at the ceiling. “I’m fascinating?”
“Entirely.”
“You’re a bit unusual yourself, you know.”
“I certainly hope so.”
“I’d never have imagined...”
He rose up on one elbow, gazing down at her. “Actually, I’d never imagined any of this. I made a rather awkward start of it. My social graces may be a bit...lacking.”
“That’s okay,” she said. “Your other skills aren’t.”
He leaned down and kissed her once more. She’d never, ever believed a kiss could be so deep, do so much, enter her every cell.
That kiss...
They began making love again, more slowly at first, and then more frantically, and when they’d finished she lay in his arms. She thought they’d talk afterward, but they didn’t. Exhaustion must have overwhelmed her. She fell into a deep, dreamless sleep.
She didn’t hear when the kitchen crew arrived in the morning.
She didn’t awaken until she felt Malachi bolt up and go running out to the living area. Then she became aware of the sound of a ringing phone.
A minute later, he returned to the bedroom, pausing naked and perfect in the doorway. His tone was strange—anxiety combined with regret. “We’ve got to get moving,” he told her. “Helen Long is conscious and talking. We have to get to the hospital.”
*
Jackson was there to meet them when they arrived.
“How is she?” Abby asked.
“She’s doing all right. She’s suffering from dehydration more than anything else.”
“What has she said so far?” Malachi asked.
“Very little. She’s only been conscious for a couple of hours, and David asked her what she remembered, who hurt her, but she still seemed disoriented. David thought she might be better once Abby got here,” Jackson said. “And she might have had enough time now to reorient and remember at least some of what happened.”
“Let’s hope so,” Abby said.
Malachi nodded and looked at Jackson. “Was I right about what I saw? She was bleeding in the water. I figured she had to be alive but I couldn’t see the injury. Was her ring finger taken?”
“Yes. She cried for a while when she realized that. In fact, the hospital staff had to sedate her. She’s calmer now, but still lucid,” Jackson told them. “There was a plastic surgeon on duty and he explained that they could do a prosthetic that she’d hardly notice. Then, of course, she cried because she’s grateful to be alive.” He turned to Abby. “She knows you saved her, although she can’t figure out how you knew she’d be in the middle of the river.”
“I saw movement,” Abby murmured.
Jackson didn’t question that. “Did you notice what she was wearing?” he asked.
“A lot of fabric,” Malachi said. “Let me guess—she was dressed as a wench?”
Jackson nodded. “She was wearing a costume like the one she wears when she works on the Black Swan.”
“Let’s see if we can get her to tell us anything,” Malachi said.
Helen Long’s hospital room was fairly large, which was a good thing since David Caswell, Jackson Crow, Abby and Malachi were all huddled in it, trying to be mindful of the patient but eager to hear what she had to say.
Malachi was aware of the hum of the IV monitors, of the hospital staff tending to the sick and injured. Outside the door was a chair; an officer would sit there day and night. They feared that whoever had wanted Helen dead would know where she was—and come back to finish the job.
Helen looked pale as she lay against the pillows. She was weak, but her eyes were bright and her mind seemed to be clear.
“Helen, Abby is here now. She’d like to talk to you. I know you can do it,” Jackson said gently.
Helen looked at Abby and tried to smile. “Thank you!” she whispered.
“Helen, thank you. You made it,” Abby said.