Excerpt of Shadowplay by Elisa Paige

Roddie still has my hand and uses it to tow me over to a bench. He pulls me down beside him, our sides just brushing. Rigid against him, I stare at our twined hands and think how hard it’d be to draw a sword if I had to right now.

"You’re worried that seeing and controlling darkness says something about who you are."

"Yes," I whisper, looking off down the street.

"But I’ve seen your soul, Mia, I know the person you are. I can’t adequately describe what I saw, but you are beautiful, inside as well as out. It’s why I bonded with you." At my exasperated snort, he smiles. "I know that it was impetuous. But I didn’t think there’d be another chance, that you’d let your guard down enough some other time. And, without a bond, getting to know you would be impossible. You are too good at keeping others at a distance."

A horrible thought occurs to me and I surge to my feet, snatching my hand free. "Have you done this before?" Roddie flushes and stands in front of me. "Absolutely not! It’s a oncein- a-lifetime thing. It’s not something you just do." At my pointed look, he sighs, chagrined. "Yeah, I know. You were my exception."

"I just don’t understand why..."

"I told you and I’ll keep on telling you. I saw who you are, Mia, and I was so...staggered by you, that I had to make a quick decision. Besides, I’m not above taking advantage of a situation when a handy one presents itself."

He grins, not the least repentant.

"You...I can’t believe...dammit...you’re such a.... man!" I stammer.

He slips his sunglasses off and his eyes are dark. Leaning closer, he says in a silky, deep voice, "I’m glad you noticed, lass."

"Don’t do that!" I mutter. It’s suddenly difficult to draw enough air into my lungs.

"What?" he asks, all innocence.

"Don’t look at me like that!"

"How do I look at you?" he murmurs, peering at me from behind lowered lids, his gaze smoldering. The world tips off center when he slowly leans and his lips graze my cheek.

Everything in me goes on alert, and it has nothing to do with selfpreservation and everything to do with Roddie. Damn the man. Alarmingly, the urge to bolt is not quite as strong as the desire to linger. My voice comes out on a sigh. "Don’t."

His mouth travels across my jawline. "Don’t what?"

"Don’t...make me feel."

"Mia." Roddie’s breath catches, and he pulls back, just a little. He studies me for a moment and his eyes look stricken. "You are strong, resourceful, and smart. No one has gotten a hand on me in a fight in over five centuries. No one but you, and I still don’t know how you did it." His voice goes rough as he continues, "You are beautiful and sexy and so desirable, I can barely breathe with wanting you. But there is more to surviving than seeing the sun rise each morning, Mia. So much more."

His intensity dances along my skin. Slowly and carefully entering my space, like he’s gentling my instincts, accustoming me to his presence and his touch, he leans closer still. "I’ve waited too long for you, Mia."

"Waited?" I whisper.

"For you. For love."

"But you can’t possibly..."

"Sure and I can. I’m falling in love with you."

The calm certainty in his blue eyes steals my breath and, along with it, anything I might say—if my brain were actually capable of formulating a response at the moment.

"Let yourself feel, muirnín," he whispers tenderly, and my heart constricts at the Gaelic endearment.

He holds himself still, giving me time to decide.

I take a deep breath, then another. "I’m out of my depth here, Roddie. I don’t know what I’m doing...don’t know what to say, how to be..."

"Just try, is all," he murmurs.

"I can’t. I just...can’t. I’m sorry, you ask too much."

He catches my hand as I turn to go, although his grip is gentle, easy.

"I’m pushing too hard, aren’t I? Pushing too fast?"

I yank my hand back and wrap my arms around myself, trembling now with a panic so vast, the bond doesn’t have a chance to do more than smooth the sharpest edges. "You’re talking like I’m at least partially normal, like there’s something in me to work with," I choke out, my throat constricting at the impossibility of what he seems to be suggesting...that he wants...that he’s interested...

"You’ve never known love or kindness, Mia. I get that," he begins.

As angry as I am terrified, I snarl, "It’s not just the absence of what to me are no more than pretty words and lovely concepts. It’s my life having been governed by their polar opposites. I know how to fight, how to survive..."

"I understand..."

"No, you don’t! Standing here, I don’t even have to think how I’d attack you or how I’d defend if you attacked me. The knowledge is here"—I point at my headc"and I’m always primed to fight and to kill if I have to.

Always. You’re faster and stronger than me, but you’re unarmed. And you seem...you seem to have feelings for me, which would slow you in a fight, since you wouldn’t want to hurt..." The words won’t come.

Roddie’s face is without expression as he turns and goes to sit on the bench. I want to rail at him for his carelessness—after what I just said, how could he even consider exposing his back to me?—and then I realize that that was why he did it. He wants me to see his trust.

And he wants me aware that, given the opportunity, I didn’t kill him.