Djinn and Tonic by Jasinda Wilder

Author:Jasinda Wilder
Language: eng
Format: epub

Chapter 13: Hunting for Truth

Carson

I’m propped up on an elbow, watching Leila sleep. Her lovely features are relaxed, one hand curled next to her face. She’s still naked, the blanket bunched by her hips, leaving her upper torso bare. I can’t help touching her, letting my fingers trace the line of her ribs as they expand and contract with each breath, her full breasts pulled by gravity to each side, flattening them slightly. Her skin is dusky, tan and taut, her navel a perfect round dip in her flat stomach, her hair splayed in a halo around her head, covering the pillow with a curtain of fine black strands.

My heart seems to swell as I look at her. I’ve come to accept that I’m in love with her, especially now that I know she loves me back. What I haven’t been able to come to grips with entirely is how potent that feeling is. It seems to fill every molecule of my being, setting my blood on fire with a fierce, protective urge to wrap her up in my arms and never let go, not for anything. It struck so suddenly, growing somehow from attraction to affection to desire to overpowering love, and the emotions and the need to protect are still unfurling, unspooling further and further with each breath, with each time I look at her.

I’ve faced a lot of frightening situations in the line of duty. Detroit is a dangerous place, though not quite the war-zone the media makes it out to be. As a officer of the law serving my city I’ve been shot, stabbed, punched, kicked, and was nearly run over by a car once. I was afraid, of course. Only the suicidal or crazy don’t feel fear. I just don’t let myself freeze up when the fear hits. I’ve learned to rely on my training, learned how to swallow the fear and push it down, cram it into the smallest corner of myself and refuse to let it out until the danger is past. And then, when I’m alone and it’s safe to do so, only then do I let it out, let it run through me.

Now, with Leila sleeping next to me, so vulnerable and so beautiful, and mine…now I feel fear. Paralyzing, soul-shaking fear. The kind of terror that makes the blood sluggish, and the muscles unresponsive. I’m not afraid of her, or of her power or her family or the fact that she’s not exactly human; no, I’m afraid of losing her. I’m afraid of letting her down, of not being man enough to take care of her, to be what she needs. I caught glimpses while we made love of what she’s facing—although making love doesn’t seem to be a strong enough phrase for what we experienced. It was joining, merging, truly becoming one in a way I still don’t quite comprehend.

She needs me. I know it, sense it, smell it, but I also know she’s not quite ready to admit that she needs me or why any more than I’m ready to admit that I need her.

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