Excerpt of Soul Bound by Anne Hope

"Not like that. Put your weight into it." Jace had spent
the better part of the morning sharing some of Regan's hard-
earned lessons with Lia, until the sun's rays had grown
fierce enough to shred the fog. Now the grass gleamed a
brilliant green beneath a spattering of weeds and
wildflowers. "When you strike, you gotta make sure you hit
your mark or your target will retaliate, harder and with
far more precision."

"I'm a healer, not a warrior." Puffs of air escaped her
lips, reminding him that she didn't share his newfound
stamina.

"Can you really be one without the other?" he challenged.

Boldness flared in her gaze, right before she lunged, her
fingers fastened around the hilt of the dagger Regan had
left behind for precisely this purpose. The blade struck
him dead center in the heart, and he smiled. "Now that's
what I'm talking about."

"I still can't wrap my brain around the fact that you can't
be stabbed. My bones are still reeling from the blow." She
ran her palm over his chest where the blade had glanced off
him. "It's like you're made of stone."

He wished that were true. Then he wouldn't have to struggle
not to sweep her into his arms and wrestle her to the
ground, wouldn't ache to claim her lips or feel her soft
curves mold to the hard planes of his body.

"Your turn." A silent dare resonated in her voice, and he
froze.

"I'm not stabbing you."

"I was referring to your other idea. The one about you
wrestling me to the ground."

Great. She'd read his mind again. He really had to get a
handle on his thoughts or they'd end up in serious trouble.

"Lia—"

She edged in closer, and her breasts grazed his chest in a
tantalizing caress. "You don't need to fight it anymore.
What happened yesterday proves I'm immune."

"You heard Regan. Being immune doesn't necessarily mean
your soul can't be taken."

"By an Ancient. Last time I checked, you weren't an
Ancient."

His glance drifted to her lush, inviting mouth. It would've
been so easy to swoop down and swallow it, so easy to drink
from the sweet well of delights it promised. But fear
nagged at him. What if she was wrong? What if he was the
one who could break her?

His head fell forward even as his body retreated. "I can't."

Her frustration and disappointment rippled through the air.
For a brief second he almost gave in, reached out and
grabbed her. It took all the willpower he possessed to keep
his hands from closing around her shoulders, his arms from
crushing her to him.

Inhaling a deep, tempering breath, he sat on an old tree
stump and gazed at the horizon, where land met sea and
trees conspired to block out the fickle sun.

Lia crouched beside him, clutched his hand and rested the
side of her face on his knee. As if guided by a will of
their own, his fingers twined in the silky threads of her
hair. Warmth tangled his gut, slowly spread to inundate
him. It made no sense that she could be so right for him
when he was all wrong for her. That her touch could infuse
him with strength, even heal him, while his kiss risked
shattering her mind and ruthlessly draining her of life.

"You're wrong." She gazed up at him, her eyes more
startling in their blueness than the sky. "You won't hurt
me. Don't ask me how I know. I just do."

"Stop sneaking into my thoughts."

"I'm not. You're broadcasting them again."

"So change the channel."

She hooked her hand behind his neck, determinedly drew his
face to hers. "What if I don't want to?" Her breath swept
across his mouth, made his whole body stiffen and burn. The
gaping hole in his chest pulsed. "What if I want to hear
your thoughts when you kiss me?"

"I'm not going to—"

With a quickness he failed to anticipate, she bridged the
reassuring distance between them and claimed his mouth.