Free Skykeepers by Jessica Andersen

said, but the line had already gone dead.
    Forcing himself not to think about where his hands were landing, he lowered her gently to the floor, propping her up against the wall opposite the doorway. The automatic torches were apparently loaded with incense; the room was filling with the spicy smell of copan , the Nightkeepers’ sacred incense. The scent ratcheted his magic higher, which was going to be a problem. He needed to tamp it down if he wanted to avoid the Xibalbans’ magic sniffers.
    He started by squelching the sexual buzz with a couple of breathing exercises and thinking of hockey—colder than baseball, he figured, so better for the job. Unfortunately, once the buzz of sex magic was down to a manageable level, he became all too aware of another power source in the room: the bespelled woman. Power limned Sasha’s motionless form, trailing red-gold sparkles across her high cheekbones and accenting the soft curves of her breasts and hips, the long lines of her limbs.
    His blood thudded in his veins; his body felt hard and heavy. He told himself to look away, but couldn’t. Told himself to swear he wouldn’t touch her, but he couldn’t do that, either.
    What he could do—what he had to do—was kill the sleep spell and take his chances.
    Sasha woke quickly, with none of the disorientation that had become so familiar over the past year. The first thing she saw was the curving wall of a flame-lit circular chamber, where mad shadows danced on carved stone. That should’ve brought instant panic. Except it wasn’t panic she felt as she stared at the gorgeous stranger who’d grabbed her from the hallway. He stood across the circular room in a fighter’s ready stance, with his feet set parallel directly below his wide shoulders, his big, capable hands hooked into his weapons belt, looking very male, very dangerous.
    She should be afraid. He was armed, and she had a feeling that whatever his hand-to-hand training had been, it went well beyond her own. But fear was far from her first response as their gazes connected. Instead, something shifted inside her, warming her core, tightening her skin, sensitizing her body.
    An impossible whisper said that the resemblance was no coincidence, that this was the man she’d imagined in the depths of her despair, the man whose image had carried her through countless interrogations. And now he’d come for her. What took you so long? she almost said. Instead, she shook herself inwardly, reminding herself that she’d sworn off making assumptions without proof.
    When he didn’t say anything, just stood there watching her steadily, his dark green eyes unreadable, she said, “Where are we?”
    “Still in Iago’s compound. Working on changing that.” His short, clipped answers gave away little, yet his voice skimmed along her skin, sounding far more intimate than it should have.
    “How’d you put me out like that? Drugs? Vulcan neck pinch?”
    “Magic.”
    Whoa. Wack-job alert , she thought, forcibly reminded that he’d flat-out claimed to be a Nightkeeper mage. She blew out a breath as the greedy churn in her stomach shifted to a twist of disquiet. “No, really. I’m serious.”
    “Trust me, so am I.”
    “Shit.” She looked away, trying not to let the disappointment feel deeply personal. “You’re one of them. A doomsdayer. Part of this . . . sick-assed war game Iago’s playing.”
    “I wish it were a game,” he said. “It’d make all our lives a whole hell of a lot easier. Unfortunately, the end-time is very real. Iago and the Xibalbans are real, as are the Nightkeepers, the Banol Kax , the prophecies, and the coming war.” He watched her as he spoke, as if checking to see how much she already knew. Apparently finding what he’d hoped for, he nodded fractionally, broke from the ready stance, and crossed the room to lean down and offer her his hand. “I’m Michael Stone. It’s a pleasure to finally meet you in person.”
    Sasha took his hand and let him