“What the FUCK, Sam?”
“Clary.”
“Don’t touch me.” Her shaky hand rose between them. ‘He’d fought this thing before? It’d looked like…him. Was this some sick metaphor? Did I just watch Sam fight himself?’
She paced back and forth in the small space, her swirling emotions barely in check. She needed to run, hunt—something to release the energy boiling inside her. Everything he’d felt during those moments…fuck. She’d never experienced a vision like that, ever. With age came growth in her powers, she knew that. This new addition must be part of the process. Either that or mixing her power with a wolf’s amplified hers. She didn’t want to test that theory any further tonight. His experience unsettled her, and she didn’t do unsettled.
Clary paused on the opposite side of the table and considered the man, now a possible suspect, staring back at her. ‘Wolf—check. Powerful—check. Something other than a wolf? That’s the million-dollar question.’ Sam opened his mouth, and she jumped in before he could get a word out. “Hang on. I know we don’t usually ask about the backgrounds others like us have, but, I’m afraid I have to know…”
She watched the movement of his hands as he pulled the tattered shirt closed over his scars. A hard swallow later, she imagined her tongue tracing each raised line.
“Clary?” He waved a hand in front of her face.
She shook her head, met his stare, and blushed at his lopsided grin. ‘Oh my God. What is wrong with me?!’
“What do you need to know?”
‘God, those hands.’ Her attention slipped back to the shredded shirt, and she missed the question. “Huh?”
He raised an eyebrow. “Are you okay, Clary? You seem distracted.”
She braced her hands on the table and let out a breath she didn’t even know she held. “Truth? You distract me. I don’t do that.”
“Do what?” Honest confusion accompanied his question.
She glared across the table, frustration lacing her words. “Get distracted. It’s too dangerous in my line of work.”
He circled the table and stood behind her. Her eyes slid closed without permission, and she jerked when he set his hands on her shoulders. ‘Please. Not again.’
“I’ll control it, okay?” He turned her around and slid a finger down her cheek.
Her eyes flew open with a growl. “Part of me doesn’t want you to.” She hopped up and sat on the table then yanked him into the V of her legs. She had to lick his skin. A prime directive warred in her brain, imperative in its command—she needed to taste each scar. She wouldn’t live another day if she didn’t do it, right now. Fire snapped and rolled in her gut. A continuous growl rolled through her throat. Her nails tore through his tattered shirt in seconds, oblivious to his words.
“Enough!”
A deep and commanding voice cut through the chaos in her brain. As she crashed back into reality, she stiffened. “Oh, God. I’m going to be sick.” She scrambled from the table and just made it to the trashcan. Tears rolled down her face as she vomited. “What’s happening to me?”
His hand slid up her spine and rested between her shoulders. Heat radiated from the spot and soothed her raging gut. The obsessive thoughts slowed to calm currents, and the need for contact with his bare skin blew away like smoke in the wind.
“I’m sorry. I had no idea you’d react to me like that.” His hand moved in small circles, the heat spreading through her body to touch all that ailed her.
“Yeah? Well, usually, it’s the other way around. I’m beating them off with a stick.” His chuckle caused tingles low in her belly. “Oh. Stop. You’re killing me.”
He leaned to press against her back and whispered in her ear, “You have no idea how hard it was to say stop. You—for dessert—on the break table?” He sighed. “Yeah, that would’ve made my millennium.”
She groaned and pushed back against his chest. “I need to get up. Whatever superpower you have, keep it to yourself. I’m not sure my libido would survive an outing with you.”
“Oh, really?” A quick flick of his tongue at the skin behind her ear had her upright in seconds. She turned just as his lashes fluttered open with a narrowed appraisal, aimed right at her. “Aren’t you part fairy?”
‘WHAT?!’ She gaped at him, confusion muddling her brain. “Uh, fairy?”
His voice deepened and whispered across her skin. “You sure taste like one. Just like me when I’m interested.” He pressed into her side, his tight abdomen a shirt’s thickness from her bare skin. His nearness rekindled the spark inside, and she groaned. “I think you need to put a new shirt on.”
He trailed a finger down her back and bumped her holster. “You sure?”
She whispered, “Absolutely.”