"Yeah, but—"

"Just shut up," he said, giving me little kisses that distracted and sent tingles of desire building in me. "It's okay."

"Marshal—" This is so weird, kissing him, and I walled the thought off.

"Use your lips for something other than talking, will you? If it doesn't work, it doesn't work. No big deal."

"Mmmmph," I mumbled, surprised when he wrapped his arms around me and hiked me farther onto him, silencing my protests with his mouth. Giving up, I kissed him, feeling myself relax and tense up all at the same time.

My breath came faster as Marshal's hands started exploring, running across my jeans to drag me up where I could feel him pressing into me. I took his mouth with my own, finding a kiss, slowly tasting him as his redwood scent filled me. His tongue slipped into my mouth, and I pushed back. It was my undoing.

I gasped, hands flying to his shoulders to shove away when he pulled on my chi. With an exquisite ping of adrenaline, I fought him, even as he gripped me harder, forcing me to stay. The shock was heady, and with a sound of desperation, I broke our kiss. Panting, I stared at him, breathless in the chill winter afternoon. Damn, that had felt good.

"Sorry, sorry," I panted, sexual excitement pounding in me.

"For what?" Marshal asked, heat in his gaze.

"I pulled away," I said, and he smiled.

"Take it back," he whispered, teasing me. His fingers touched everything, running smoothly over me to make me shiver in the dusky light coming through the slats. Here, there, never long anywhere, to drive me almost mad. Oh God, I'll make him beg for it.

Shivering from anticipation and desire, I leaned in. Marshal's scent was everywhere. I breathed him in, shutting off my thoughts. His hands were on my waist, and as I grew comfortable with our new closeness, I exhaled in a soft sound of pleasure as he found my breasts, nuzzling one of them through my shirt, then the other, bringing me stiff with anticipation until I couldn't take it anymore. I wanted to wait, to make him ask for it with his body if not his words, but instead I exhaled, pulling from him every last erg of power in his chi.

Marshal groaned as the exquisite fulfillment of it rolled into me, mixed with the wicked feeling of domination and possession. He opened his eyes; the hot need showing in them set my heart pounding. I had taken from him, and now he was going to take from me.

He didn't wait. One hand behind my neck, he drew me down to kiss him. I knew it was coming, but I couldn't help my whispered cry as he touched my chi with his awareness and pulled everything from me, running it through my body and into his to leave glittering trails of loss and heat to spiral through me like smoke from an extinguished candle.

I didn't fight him. I was able to share this, and with our kiss holding, I steadied myself to wrestle it back. My knees pressed into his thighs, demanding it, taking it, making it mine.

Power pulled fast through him with the crack of a whip, and he gasped, his arms jumping up to imprison me. I breathed him in, feeling him inside me everywhere. I could taste him in my mind, in my soul. It was glorious. I could hardly stand it.

"Take it," I whispered, wanting to feel him do the same, but he grunted no. My moan turned into a pant of want, and spurred on, he gripped me more intensely until he touched my chi again, taking all of it in a wash of scintillation to leave only a trail of sparkles in my mind and an aching emptiness.

It was my turn to steal it back, but he took control of everything. In a mind-numbing pulse of force, he pushed the energy into me. I sucked in my air in shocked surprise, clutching him. "Oh God, don't stop," I gasped. It was as if I could feel him inside me, outside me, all around me. And then he drew it back again, leaving me almost weeping for it. "Marshal," I panted. "Marshal, please."

"Not yet," he groaned.

I gripped his shoulders, wanting everything. Wanting it all. Wanting it now.

"Now," I demanded, out of my mind with the self-enforced deprivation. He had my line energy, he had my fulfillment. His mouth found mine, and I begged. Not with my words, but with my body. I writhed for it, I pressed into him for it, I did everything but take it, finding the exquisite ache of unfulfilled need chiming through me, driving me to a fevered pitch.

And then he groaned, unable to deny it anymore. I moaned in release as the energy from his chi filled mine as we both climaxed. A rush of endorphins cascaded through us, bringing me to a back-arched, gasping halt. Marshal's grip on me shook, and I trembled as wave after wave smothered me, pulling me into a hyperalert state where nothing was real.

I heard a panting moan, then realized, embarrassed, that it was me. Slumping into him, I felt my senses return. Marshal was breathing hard, his chest rising and falling under me as his hand lay on my back, still at last. I exhaled, feeling the flow of energy between us sift back and forth without hindrance, leaving little tingles that faded to nothing as the forces balanced perfectly.

I lay against him with my head on his shoulder, listening to his heartbeat and deciding there were probably not too many more enjoyable ways to mess up your life than this. And fully clothed, too. Feeling the icy cold of the afternoon against me, I stirred. "You okay?" I asked, smiling as I felt him nod.

"How about you?" he asked, his voice more of a rumble than a real sound.

I listened for a moment, hearing nothing. No pixy wings, no roommate stomping around downstairs. "Never better," I said, feeling more at peace than I had in a long time. Marshal's chest began to bounce, and I pushed myself up when I realized he was laughing. "What?" I said, feeling like I was the butt of the joke.

"Marshal, I don't know if I remember how," he said in a falsetto. "It's been so long."

Relieved, I sat up and mock-punched his shoulder. "Shut up," I said, not minding that he was laughing at me. "I didn't."

Marshal eased me off his lap, and I snuggled up to him, both of us slouched with our heads on the back of the couch and our feet intertwined on the floor.

"You sure your aura is okay?" Marshal asked, almost too soft to hear. He turned to look in my eyes, and I smiled.

"Yeah. That was…Yeah." Marshal's arms wrapped around me as I made a move to get up, and giggling, I fell back into him.

"Good," he whispered in my ear, holding me all the closer.

I wasn't going to worry about what happened next. It truly wasn't worth it.

Nineteen

T he sun was arching toward the horizon, painting the buildings at Cincinnati's waterfront in red and gold as I headed for Carew Tower for a quick bite and that interview with Edden. If it had been a normal Sunday, I'd be just about ready to head home from the ever-after and Al's and my weekly push-and-shove contest, and though I was glad to have gotten out of it, I was worried about Pierce. Pierce, Al, Ivy, Skimmer, Kisten's killer, and Mia. They all swirled in the back of my head, problems demanding to be solved. Most days, the overload would have had me tense and snappish, but right now? Smiling, I gazed at the sun reflecting on the buildings and fiddled with the radio as I followed the guy ahead of me over the bridge. All in due course, I thought, wondering if my calm was from Marshal, or Marshal's massage therapist.

Edden's meeting was in about half an hour, then the I.S. lockup was at six, followed by an early dinner with Robbie and my mom at ten—I'd heard Robbie complaining in the background when I'd called to say I'd have to miss lunch, and he could just suck dishwater. Eventually Mia would surface, and then I'd nail her ass, but until then, I could enjoy a snack at Carew Tower. The massage I'd indulged in earlier had been fantastic, and I felt twinges of guilt all afternoon that I'd been enjoying myself under the excuse that it might help my aura. The feeling of relaxation was still with me, making it easy to tell Marshal that he'd been right, yada, yada, yada…He was going to call later. It felt good, and I wasn't going to think any more about it than that.