Drake Sisters 07 - Hidden Currents

arms and circled his neck and leaned closer.
    Jackson’s mouth settled on her. He didn’t pour lust or even love into her mouth. There were no demands, no pressure, just that featherlight brush of an artist—a poet—masterful y plying an instrument so that she wanted to weep with joy. She felt him in her mind, fil ing every dark place with care, with strength, with a slow-burning passion that made her feel alive, when she’d been dead for so long.
    His kiss deepened, slid seamlessly from one to the next, his hands sliding up to her face, framing her, holding her, cradling her as if she was the most precious treasure in the world. Her melting continued, as if the intense heat he generated thawed the ice-blue glacier inside her. Her mouth moved on his, wanting more—even needing it.

    The moment she participated, the moment she took from him, her throat closed, as if fingers tightened relentlessly and her lungs burned for air.
    Panicked, she tried to pul back, tried to pry the unseen hand from her neck.
    Jackson didn’t back off. “Open your eyes, baby. Lift your lashes and look at me.†The words whispered against her mouth, into her mouth, his lips never lifting from hers.
    El e snapped open her eyes and found herself staring into his. She’d never noticed the intensity of the color, how they looked like black obsidian.
    There was absolute resolve in his eyes, a dark promise of protection and something else she wasn’t certain she wanted to see—the need to destroy her enemy.
    â€œNow breathe with me. Just the two of us. No one else is here. Draw the air into your lungs, El e, and breathe with me.â€
    His hand slipped from her face to slide down to her rib cage, his palm resting there while his other hand pressed her palm to his rib cage. She felt his breath. In. Out. The mechanics of it and his mind tied them together, bound them, made them one so that her body automatical y fol owed his and she drew the air from him. His mouth to hers. She felt her throat relax. Felt her lungs draw the life-giving element deep inside her. She tasted Jackson. Felt him in her. Knew he was real and solid and would fight at her side, stand in front of her, protect her back, whatever it took to keep her safe.
    â€œHow did I doubt you?â€
    â€œHow did we doubt each other?†Jackson corrected gently. He brushed his lips across hers one last time and lifted his head. “We’re in this together, El e. You have to think of us as a unit. If you do that, we’l make it.â€
    â€œRight now, I think of us as sharing the same skin,†El e admitted. “I know you need space, Jackson, and I real y appreciate you staying in my mind.â€
    He held her, listening to her quiet weeping until Bomber pushed his head against both of them in an effort to comfort her, too. He patted the dog’s head. “How strong are you? Do you feel like a midnightâ€â€”he glanced at the clock—“wel , three a.m. walk? Are you up for it? We can take a couple of chairs and go sit and watch the sun come up.â€
    â€œBut you need to sleep.â€
    He shrugged. “Actual y, baby, I took a leave of absence from work. I was due a lot of sick days and personal time and figured now was a good time to take them, so we can sleep during the day and stay up al night and live like a couple of vampires, minus the sucking necks, although later, when you’re up to it, we might include that in our nighttime activities.â€
    â€œWould you real y dread my hair for me?†El e lifted her head from his chest, tired of crying, tired of feeling out of control. She could be afraid, she could even be mean or angry or feel the need to find Stavros and put a bul et in his head, but she had to stop bursting into tears. She’d turn Jackson’s life upside down and he wouldn’t utter one word of complaint.
    He lifted the mass of tangled red hair. “I don’t think we have to do much to get it done. You’re one giant dread already.†He stood up, padding across the room in his bare feet, his jeans low on his hips, the top button not done.
    Why had she noticed that particular detail? And why had her mouth gone dry? She couldn’t ever want a man to touch her again, not like that.
    Jackson turned his head, looking at her over his shoulder, his eyes two black, merciless pits. “When I touch you, El e,