Free Witchmate (Skeleton Key) by Renee George, Skeleton Key Page B

me.”
    “Really?”
    “Yes. I can’t believe you guys never thought of this before. I’d be making soaps and lotions out of that witchvine leaf.”
    “It doesn’t work that way.”
    “Hello,” Emma said, waving a hand in front of Keir’s face. “I’m living, unscorched proof it does.”
    “No,” Keir said. “It really doesn’t work that way. I don’t know what protected you from the witches, but it wasn’t the leaves.”
    “That’s weird.”
    “Well, I don’t care what kept you safe.” He stroked her hair. “As long as you are. I couldn’t bear if anything happened to you.”
    She could see the stars through the opening in the roof. “If it weren’t for me running away last night…”
    “So you admit you ran away, not escaped,” he teased.
    “Yes, okay. I’ll admit that you probably weren’t holding me captive.”
    “I gave you my bed. Would I do that for a prisoner?”
    “Really?” The furnishing had been sparse. Not the type of luxury you’d see in the quarters of someone in charge. Still…he’d put her in his bed. A hot tingle ran over her skin as she remembered all the ways he’d wanted to claim her. Emma, her mouth dry, blinked. Her emotions ran the gambit between lust and guilt. Whatever had brought her to this strange, foreign world had nothing to do with Keir. “The point is,” she finally said. “You’d be back with your people now. Safe in your camp. Not out here in a treetop hiding, if it weren’t for me.”
    ****
    Keir had never felt the connection that Toland had for Lis or Thadeus for Amile. Only now did he realize how lonely and miserable he’d been without it. Emma didn’t seem to realize how truly precious or important she was to him. How could she believe for one second he wanted to be anywhere that wasn’t by her side?
    “Keir,” she said his name in a throaty whisper that rushed blood to his groin. When she brought her hand to his cheek, and blue flames danced on her fingertips, he startled as it tickled his skin.
    Emma jerked her hand back. “What the hell?”
    The alarm in her eyes matched his fear.
    “Jesus.” She scrambled out of his grasp. “What the hell is happening to me?” The flickering indigo blaze flowed along her skin. “It feels warm, but not searing hot like it should. My hands should be melting. Did I hurt you?”
    “You didn’t hurt me,” he said, but he didn’t try to approach her. The fire was spell craft. He could feel it as it raised the hair on his arms. Earlier, he’d have sworn Emma didn’t have an ounce of witch in her, but the proof was flowing over her palms.
    “Maybe it’s some kind of illusion, not real fire.” She touched the edge of the blanket, and the wool sizzled as it took the flame. “Oh, crap.” She stood up and stomped at the embers. “It’s real. What is this?”
    “It’s elemental magic, Emma.”
    “What does that even mean?”
    “It means you’re a witch.”
    She put her hand on her stomach, her shirt untouched by the flames as if his words punched her in the gut like the blunt end of a blade. “It isn’t possible. I’m human. I’m not a witch. I don’t know any magic.”
    He wanted to reassure her, but the glaring proof lit up around her. “But you do.”
    “This means…this means we can’t be…I can’t be your mate.”
    Keir stared at her, his expression stoically blank. It was his worst fear realized. He’d finally had a metaphysical bond with another person, and she was looking more and more like the enemy. He felt betrayed.
    “Say something.”
    When he didn’t, she grabbed the witchvine from where he’d set the length in the corner of the room. The fire on her hands went out. “It’s a coincidence. It doesn’t mean anything. Please, Keir,” she begged. “Tell me it doesn’t mean anything.” She tied the vine around her waist.
    His expression faltered. “Who sent you to me, Emma?”
    “No one.” She crossed her arms over her chest, rubbing her shoulders as if