Free Shadows of Asphodel by Karen Kincy Page A

later, it was as if a wall between them broke.
    He kissed her back, fiercely, one of his hands knotting in her hair and the other pressing into the small of her back. He swept her against the railing, and the heat of his body against hers overrode the feeling of cold steel.
    Ardis had never been kissed like this before. It made her tremble. It made her weak.
    Wendel broke away from her with a gasp. He pressed his hand to his chest and swore under his breath.
    “Did I hurt you?” she said, pretending not to grab the railing for support.
    He shook his head. “I hurt myself. Forgot about the wound.”
    “Wendel,” she said.
    There was stark honesty on his face. “I didn’t think you looked at me like that.”
    He came closer to her, even closer than they already were, and lifted his hand to her face. He hesitated, not touching her.
    “It’s still strange,” he said.
    “What is?”
    “To know you want me to touch you.” He bit his lip. “Am I an idiot?”
    “Not unless you don’t kiss me again,” she said.
    Wendel didn’t need to be told twice. When he kissed her, this time it was with a slow gentleness. The sweet pain of desire cut through her. Her knees turned to liquid, and she hooked her hands behind his neck. He kept her from falling, but inside she felt her thoughts falling to pieces. All she could do was hold on.
    “Ardis,” he said, his voice more gravel than honey, and he rested his forehead on hers.
    She swallowed hard. She couldn’t believe how close she was to a necromancer. He felt very much like a man, but there was that shivering electricity of his skin on hers. The icy fire of it tightened her throat, and she retreated.
    “What is it?” he said.
    “I don’t know,” she said. “What am I feeling, when you touch me?”
    Wendel averted his eyes. His hands slipped away from her back, and the warmth of their imprint faded into the winter air.
    “I apologize,” he said. “I’m not always able to hide my necromancy.”
    She rested her hand on his arm, and waited for him to meet her eyes.
    “Don’t apologize,” she said.
    He had a shadow of a smile. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
    She smiled back, but she hoped that the truth wasn’t plain in her eyes. His power over death both thrilled and terrified her.
    He ran his hand down her hair. “Do you still want this?”
    She didn’t have to think to reply.
    “Yes.”
    He leaned in closer, so she could hear his murmur over the wind. “We have at least three hours before we arrive in Vienna.”
    Her heartbeat leapt into a higher gear. “And?”
    “I still like your earlier idea,” he said, “of returning to bed.”
    His breath whispered in her ear. When Ardis shivered, it couldn’t be blamed entirely on the cold. But at the same time, a knot tightened in her throat. Three hours. Was that all the time he would give her?
    “It was Vienna all along,” she said.
    “Vienna?”
    She crossed her arms and rubbed her elbows. “Your cue to disappear into the night.”
    “Ah.” Wendel shook his head, but his eyes betrayed his wariness. “Allow me to remind you of the terms of my fealty.”
    “So you save my life, and then you leave me.”
    He stared at her for a moment that stretched on far too long.
    “I see,” she said.
    He furrowed his brow. “You expected more?”
    She sighed, and realized how weary she was. “Men always make assumptions about women who work as mercenaries. You think you can seduce me and skip town. Well, I’m not that desperate for male attention.”
    “Desperate?” he said mockingly. “Was I near the bottom of your list?”
    “Definitely,” she deadpanned. “You think I have no standards? Besides killing people for money, I work as a courtesan on the side.”
    Well, she was the daughter of a courtesan, but she wasn’t about to admit that her mother profited from lust.
    “Of course,” Wendel said. “Only courtesans tolerate necromancers.”
    She glared at him, but she had to bite back a smile.