Cursed Kiss (Paranormal Romance) (7 page)

"Luka…" She gave a weak smile. "I believe you now…about the different dimensions."

He'd expected recriminations. She had every right to be angry with him, but she seemed to be taking it far better than he expected.

"That was my aim, but I never intended you to find out like this. I'd no idea you'd pass through the portal."

Clare touched her bandage again. "This hurts like hell."

"How did you bump it?" Luka took a step closer to examine the dressing.

"I tripped and whacked my head on the fireplace as I came back."

Her eyes filled with tears and her lips trembled. "I was so scared. I don't think I've ever been that frightened in my life."

She covered her eyes and a stifled sob caught in her throat.

How he longed to wrap his arms around her to give her comfort. Yet he certainly couldn't risk touching her again. He'd already drawn energy from her once by mistake and she would be further depleted from the stress and trauma of her experience. He narrowed his eyes to inspect the glistening aura around her body. It was often possible to identify injury in humans from the pattern of their psychic energy.

What he saw—or did not see—left him stunned. No glow surrounded her. Only a faint wisp of a halo topped the crown of her head, the last place it clung before life departed.

She was exhausted, on the edge of unconsciousness. Without rest and nourishment, she could slip into a coma or even die. His heart stumbled at the thought, and strangely not because his only way out of this place would vanish, but because he did not want this brave and beautiful woman to perish.

Then another thought occurred to him, one that set his heart racing—if Clare had no psychic energy, surely he could touch her without causing her harm.

For years he had been cursed to touch no living being except Pablo. Much as he loved and appreciated his friend's sacrifice in keeping him alive, the chance to touch a woman nearly overwhelmed him.

As if in a dream, he took a step forward and reached out. What if he were wrong? He hesitated, curled his trembling fingers into his palm. Blast it all, he would implode if he didn't try. Luka extended his index finger and gently brushed the tip across the velvety skin of her cheek.

Sensation shot up his arm, but not the buzz of energy he was used to receiving. This was wholly different. He felt it not in his chest but much lower in a part of his anatomy he normally tried to ignore.

She stared up at him, curiosity and a hint of something that he wanted to believe was desire sparked in her eyes. "You told me not to touch you," she whispered.

"That is the rule. But just this once…" He sank to his knees, stroked a palm over the thick silk of her hair on the pillow. He could touch her, but she was a stranger, not one of the women Pablo brought to the house. Yet a few moments earlier, hadn't he yearned to take her in his arms to comfort her?

"Clare, let me hold you, sweetheart." She reached for him as he slid his hands behind her, lifting her shoulders into his arms. He rested his cheek against her temple and her warm breath tickled his neck, sending a rush of sensation through his body.

Clare felt fragile, but also soft and warm in his embrace. Closing his eyes, he pressed his nose to her hair and inhaled her sweet floral fragrance. If there was a heaven, this was it.

"Why are you so reluctant to touch me?" she said, a note of uncertainty in her tone.

"It's about me, not you," he hastened to reassure her. "I don't normally touch people. This can't happen again." This curse of his was so difficult to explain. If she'd had trouble believing in Taldom, she would certainly have trouble believing he was a psychic vampire. And he wasn't sure he wanted her to know. Shame flushed through him, even though the affliction had not been of his making, and was out of his control. Although if she were to help him, he'd have to tell her eventually.

She eased back to see his face, two little creases running between her fine brows. "You won't want to touch me again?"

The uncertainty was back in her voice, or maybe it was disappointment. But that might just be wishful thinking on his part.

"Why not, that's—"

Luka cut off her words with a finger against the soft plumpness of her lips. How he longed to press his mouth to hers and give her his cursed kiss. He laid her back on the bed and released her before he gave in to his desire to do more than offer comfort.

His gaze lingered on her face, her lips. What would it be like to kiss this woman? How peculiar she would think him if she knew it was something he'd never done.

The distinctive rap of Pablo's Italian shoes pulled Luka back to reality—the reality that he had far more important matters to worry about than his first kiss. That could wait until he was back in his own world and free of his curse. Although no woman in Taldom could be as appealing as the beautiful woman on the bed before him.

He lifted her hand to his mouth and pressed his lips to her knuckles, a courtly kiss even his father would approve. "I'm glad you're back safe and sound, Clare."

Something passed between them, a pulse of heat and sorrow that this was not the time or place to explore what might have been, but never could be, between them.

Pablo strolled in, humming, and laid his laptop on the desk. "I've checked the portal and it's still active."

Luka smiled down at Clare. "I think we know that, or Miss Moray would not be here."

"You're touching her." Pablo froze, a gamut of mixed emotions crossing his face.

"Just this once. The events of the last few days have drained her energy."

Pablo's expression morphed into a wicked grin. He moved closer and rested his palm over Clare's hand where it lay in Luka's grip. There was no mistaking the direction of Pablo's thoughts.

Luka turned a quelling look on his friend and slid his hand out from underneath the heap. He had made it perfectly clear to Pablo that Clare was out of bounds. "It's time to take Clare back to Château Montgatine."

With a grin, Pablo lifted Clare's hand and brushed his lips across her knuckles, just as Luka had done so recently, but when Pablo performed the move it was rife with suggestion. "Your carriage, or should I say, your helicopter, awaits, milady."

The pale pink flush that crested her cheekbones in response annoyed Luka.

"I'll carry her." Luka wrapped the blanket around her, slipped one arm beneath her knees, and the other behind her back.

Clare curled against his chest, her cheek pressed to his shoulder. The swoop of protective feelings stole his breath.

As Luka turned towards the door, Pablo stepped in front of him. "Let me take her. She's too heavy for you."

Luka met his friend's gaze, making no attempt to hide his simmering anger. Why couldn't Pablo let him have this moment? He knew it was something unusual and for him special, whereas to Pablo women were freely available.

"I hope you're not intimating I'm fat?" Clare said to Pablo, breaking the awkward moment.

"No, no," Pablo soothed. "It's just Luka is easily fatigued."

"I think I can manage the walk to the helicopter," Luka bit out.

With a careless shrug, Pablo snatched his computer from the desk and marched off in front of them.

Chapter Five

The dull throb from the injury to her head had eased when Clare woke the following day.

She rolled her head to the side, easing the tension in her neck, and was surprised to see Luka asleep in a crimson velvet chair next to her bed. Even in sleep, wearing yesterday's creased shirt, he had an innate air of nobility. Awareness of him hummed through her, as though in the few days since she'd met him, every cell in her body had attuned itself to his presence. He was unusual, but his dark good looks did strange things to her.

He'd held her hand in the helicopter and told her stories of Taldom that sounded like fairy tales. The last thing she remembered, as she drifted off to sleep, was the soothing drone of his cultured voice.

It occurred to her that no one had ever treated her with such tenderness. As a child she'd been the caregiver, and later when she went to live with Monique, well, tenderness and affection were not in her grandmother's nature.

Luka had removed his jacket and folded up his shirtsleeves. She watched his chest rise and fall, then her gaze slipped down to his lean, muscular forearms. One rested on the arm of the chair, the other lay across his thigh.

He'd told her last night that she must not touch him again. That it would do her harm. But he hadn't elaborated and she'd been too weary to question him.

Clare pushed up on her elbow and brushed her fingertips over his knee. When nothing happened, she laid her hand on his forearm. The dark hair on his skin tickled her palm and sent a frisson of yearning through her. For a few seconds all seemed normal, then her ears began to buzz. Although she didn't move, she felt as though she was being pulled towards him. Then dizziness swam in her head and she fell back against the pillows.

After a moment, the buzzing stopped and the dizziness cleared.

She'd felt this same sensation when he touched her hand during dinner, and again when she'd brushed her fingers on his skin in the dungeon.

A soft tap on the door disturbed her musings. "Yes," she called.

Pablo sauntered in carrying a tray laden with fragrant, freshly baked croissants, coffee, and orange juice. He balanced the tray on one hand and presented her with a small pink rosebud. "For sleeping beauty."

The knock also disturbed Luka. He shifted in his seat and opened his eyes. For a second he seemed disoriented, then got his bearings. "How do you feel this morning, Clare? Are you well?"

"Not a hundred percent yet, but I'm improved. How about you? Did you sleep in the chair all night?"

He waved away her concern, and ran his fingers through his hair. "I'll feel better for some breakfast."

"You should have returned to your bed," Pablo admonished Luka, as if he were a naughty child.

Irritation flashed in Luka's eyes but he said nothing and passed a plate of pastries to her.

"I'd like to get up," she said, when they had all eaten. "Give me time to have a shower and—"

"No, please." Luka leaned forward and scrutinized her critically. "Your ordeal yesterday drained your energy. You need to recuperate."

She didn't like being told what to do any more than he did, but he had a point. "I'll take a shower later and see how I feel. I might get up for a couple of hours. First I'd like answers to some questions."

Luka inclined his head. "Of course."

Clare twirled the pink rosebud, wondering how to broach the topic of his touch, and how it made her feel. "Something strange happens to me when I touch you, but yesterday was different."

"Ah, Clare, you choose to start with the most difficult subject."

"I guessed it must be a sensitive issue, and it's not just me, is it. That's why you don't shake hands?"

"It's something that happened to me when I came here. On Earth, my body does not produce enough psychic energy." Fine lines of tension tightened around his mouth. "To survive I must steal energy from other living creatures."

Pablo grunted in disagreement. "You do not steal,
amigo
. I give to you freely."

"Pablo is my guardian angel." Luka gave the other man a quick, tight smile. "Unfortunately I'm still a danger to others, as you discovered to your cost when I robbed you of energy during dinner."

So, that was what had happened. Knowing the cause made it less frightening. There had to be a scientific basis for the phenomenon.

Luka rose from his chair and turned to the window. "In this world, I'm a monster."

"Ay, ay, ay." Pablo flapped a dismissive hand. "You are no monster." Clare echoed the sentiment in her head. Although she knew little about Luka, the gut instinct she'd learned to trust told her he was a good man at heart.

Pablo went to Luka, put an arm around his shoulders, and bent his head close. Clare heard the sound of Pablo's soothing whispers but couldn't make out the words.

At length, Luka came back, his expression grim. "This energy theft is not something I can control. My body takes what it needs, whether I wish to or not."