Wicked Deeds on a Winter’s Night (Immortals After Dark #4)(34)
Author: Kresley Cole

He shrugged. "With witches you never know what you’re in for. All false faces and deviousness."

"But with Lykae, what you see is what you get? Oh, wait, I totally forgot about the beast that lives inside you. And then by the time you see what you’re in for, it’s too late, isn’t it?"

He narrowed his eyes. "I’m one among the most powerful species on this earth – none are stronger than the Lykae – and I’ve trained for war or fought it for my entire life. Yet you, with your wee body and utter lack of training, can still pin me by the throat. It’s no’ natural. Witches are no’ natural."

"That can’t be all."

"That’s all you’ll hear tonight."

"You know what? I’ll play. If you answer one question correctly, I might consider possibly thinking about giving you a shot to maybe win me over."

"Ask it, lass."

"What if we somehow worked through all the obstacles between us and were together for a couple of years or so, and you were given another chance to go back for your mate? There could be another key. Would you ignore it if it was handed to you?"

Emotions seemed to pass over his face. He scrubbed his hand across the back of his neck. "I could lie, but I will no’. I’d use it."

Her lips parted. "Then why in the hell would I invest my time and my feelings when you won’t be doing the same?" She stood, storming away from him. "Game over, MacRieve."

"But you have to understand why." He shot to his feet and seized her elbow. "I believe it would be you."

"I don’t feel like I have a pre-owned soul. And furthermore, I like myself. Other than some late-blooming magickal powers and some sealed legal records, I think I’m pretty nifty. Yet you would just wipe me out entirely?"

"You would no’ be wiped out. Just different."

"What about my friends and family?" Not that Mari’s family – being Jillian – would overly miss her. "What about the prophesy, of being Awaited? I have responsibilities."

"You’d have other family, another destiny – "

"If I’m a reincarnate and that soul’s not available when I’m born, then I’m not me. You know that’s true." She was shaken by how much this bastard was hurting her with this. "So just a hint: The next time you’re courting a female, try not to divulge that you would readily wipe out her entire existence with the turn of a key – so you could be with another woman you preferred over her!"

22

Bloody brilliant, MacRieve, Bowe thought as he lay staring at the cavern ceiling. Drops of water traveled along it against gravity, before trickling down a stalactite. He exhaled. Not only hadn’t he made progress with her, he’d likely deepened her hatred.

He was accustomed to doing as he pleased – and to having others do what he pleased as well. Yet when he’d wanted to talk to her more, to explain, the look in her eyes had said she’d been about to snap.

Bowe knew he shouldn’t have answered as he had. Of course, she wouldn’t view the situation the same as he did. But her question had caught him completely off guard. He was used to thinking along those lines but hadn’t expected her to.

He should have just lied. As soon as the thought arose, he dismissed it because he didn’t ever want to lie to his female. Except that she might not be his at all, and now he was farther away from the means to determine for certain.

He glanced over at her, lying on the other side of the fire with her back to him. Could Mariketa truly be a different version of Mariah? An utterly different version? Or was he seizing on reincarnation because it absolved him of guilt – for Mariah’s death and for his undeniable lust for another?

The two looked nothing alike but for their ears. Mariah had been tall and lithe and so graceful, seeming to float when she walked. The petite witch rolled her hips sensuously until her every step sent blood rushing to his groin and away from his brain. For the thirtieth time tonight, he ran the heel of his palm along his shaft. He wanted to watch her walk naked to a bed he was in.

He told himself he wasn’t comparing the two females to determine which was better but only to explore his reincarnation theory.

Hell, he didn’t even know what he would do with a key now. Would he truly go back if he believed the witch would never live?

That was the crux of it, because if he knew for a fact that he would erase the witch, then he could be certain that she shared a soul with Mariah. And with that certainty, he could stay with the witch, even if there was a key, and there would be no guilt.

Wait. Why had he immediately decided on the witch in this situation? If he could just as easily have Mariah, wouldn’t he prefer her? Mariah had been everything that was perfect.

Yet for the first time, Bowe admitted – with difficulty and reluctance – that she might not have been perfect… for him.

For most of his adult life, Bowe had said what was on his mind, and damn the consequences. Life was too long not to. But he remembered that his uttering even the mildest oaths would dismay Mariah – no matter that he and his kind had been using those words for millennia before they’d been deemed bad.

He’d often felt like he was walking on eggshells around her. He’d striven to change for her, hoping to make himself a gentleman for her. Yet some traits were just a part of his nature.

He enjoyed his bed play dirty, and like all males of his kind, he was aggressive in bed. But Mariah had been a fey princess living in the eighteen hundreds and had been stymied with a very limited sexual mind-set. She’d never been aroused by Bowe – had never desired him as he did her. Bowe had known this, for she’d made no secret of it. With her violet eyes glinting, she would stroke him under the chin as she vowed that she would be the one to tame his beastly nature.

So he’d struggled to ignore his baser urges because she would have been horrified or even fainted if he’d acted on them. The sex words he’d wanted to use he’d stifled. The places he’d wanted to kiss her he’d tried to put from his mind…

He’d never claimed her, and the one time he’d touched her between her thighs, his heart had sunk to find her utterly unaffected by his attentions. As cold as ice.

But when he’d stroked Mariketa, she’d been lush and wet, her body so ready to receive him. And the way he spoke? It aroused her. He knew the self-pleasuring witch would indulge in whatever would give them satisfaction. That night in the tomb, if he’d decided to taste her sex, she would have moaned with anticipation and spread her legs wide for him.

Maybe she hadn’t been seething with power that night, but with passion, a passion stoked by him. Bowe hadn’t realized until now how much Mariah’s lack of desire had affected his confidence.

At once, he flushed at his uncharitable thoughts toward her. She’d been a sweet lass, and she’d had much to offer a male.