Free NocC 021 - Jessa Slade - Dark Hunter's Touch - Harlequin 2012-08 by Nocturne Page A

could gauge the slenderness of her wrists without
touching her. Barely any part of her was exposed to touch; her gold gown covered
her almost entirely, from the long sleeves ending in deep scallops over the
backs of her hands, to the high collar that flared out at the points of her jaw.
The red-gold amber of her hair gleamed against the dress, which made her face
more wan by comparison. But he supposed she hadn’t been out running lately. Even
the intermittent Oregon sun would have given her some color.
    When she had said she would never feel alive again, he hadn’t
believed her. Now he did. He had brought her back, but he had left something
precious behind.
    Remorse nipped him, a sharpness like accidentally sitting on an
annoyed wisp. “Hunters are being sent out to retrieve more and more fugitive phae . You started something when you
bolted.”
    “There were always phae runaways.
The only difference is no one noticed before.” She glanced down, and the
aggressive spread of her wings wilted. “It is only because of me that anyone
notices now.”
    With her attention diverted, he took the opportunity to close
the distance between them. When he caught her arm, his fingertips met. She was thinner, fading before his eyes.
    As he tugged her into the shadow of the tree, the backs of his
knuckles brushed the side of her breast through the silky weave of her gown, but
he ignored the awareness that sizzled through his body. “If anybody is guilty of
turning attention to the runaways, it is me. So go ahead and blame me.” He would
rather face the bold, angry Imogene than this pensive sylfana he barely recognized.
    She finally raised her eyes. In place of the cold glitter, her
gaze clouded, like the smoky occlusions in his blue amber. “I can’t blame you,
not when I know why you are so afraid.”
    “I am not—”
    Avoiding his studded Hunter collar, she lifted her hand toward
his shoulder, where the knot of scar still twisted over the wing joint. “The
Lord Hunter almost undid you, as he came Undone himself.”
    Vaile stiffened at the almost imperceptible brush of her
fingers. “It’s nothing. You wished me back together again.”
    “What did you wish for? To fly? Yet here you are.” She shook
her head. “I guess I was never strong enough to be a fairy princess.”
    “Imogene—”
    She jerked her hand away. “Don’t say my name. It reminds me
of…things.”
    “I want to remind you.” He tightened his grip on her arm to
draw her up against his bare chest. Sometimes he resented the Hunters’ archaic
garb—or lack thereof—but now he appreciated the absence of at least that barrier
between them. “We don’t have to lose what we found out there. We can still have
that, here, without the risk of the Undoing.”
    In the imaginary heat and faked shadows of the phaedrealii , only the feel of her was real. When he
pressed her close, her breasts were a softer warmth through the gold gown, and
the silky folds of the skirt fanned around his leather-clad legs. He slid one
hand behind her neck, though the spider silk came between them.
    “Hunter…” she murmured.
    Her breathy sigh tightened the already-snug fit of his jeans.
“Vaile,” he reminded her. “Whatever you might think, I am not still that
nameless whelp.”
    “If only you were, then I would still be the thoughtless sylfana , and I could forget.”
    “Forget what?”
    “Everything.”
    He leaned down, angling his mouth above hers. “Even me?”
    “Especially you.” She stared up at him without blinking. “If
you kiss me, I will bite like one of your hounds.”
    “I almost believe you.” He shifted his grip to cup her jaw,
just at the edge of her high gold collar. “But not quite.”
    The soft, shining silk was nothing like the studded Hunter
leash around his own neck, yet he thought perhaps they were both bound, in their
own ways. He took a breath and ran his thumb over the hollow of her cheek to her
lower lip.
    “Skin to skin, we cannot