I had endured more short-term relationships than a socialite has shoes. Either it was my I.S. job, or my wacko mother pushing for commitment, or that I attracted jerks who simply saw a redhead as a potential notch on their broomstick. Maybe I was a crazy bitch demanding trust without being able to give it. I didn’t want another one-sided relationship, but Nick was gone and Kisten smelled good. He made me feel the pain less.

My shoulders eased, and he exhaled as he felt me stop fighting him. Eyes closing, I dropped my forehead into his shoulder as my folded arms made a small space between us. The music was soft and slow. I wasn’t crazy. I could trust. I did trust. I had trusted Nick, and he had left.

“You’ll leave,” I breathed. “They all leave. They get what they want, and they leave. Or they find out what I can do, and then they leave.”

His arms about me tightened for an instant, then relaxed. “I’m not going anywhere. You already scared the hell out of me when you took Piscary down.” He buried his nose in my hair and breathed in my scent. “And I still am here.”

Lulled by his body warmth and his touch, my tension trickled away. Kisten altered my balance—and I moved with him. Moving, hardly moving, our weight shifted as the slow and seductive music lured me into swaying with him.

“You can’t hurt my pride,” Kisten whispered, his fingers tracing the middle of my back. “I’ve lived my entire life with people stronger than I. I like that, and have no shame in being the weaker one. I’ll never be able to cast a spell, and I don’t give a shit that you can do something I can’t.”

The music and our almost-not-moving started a warm spot in me. Licking my lips, I slipped my arms from between us to find they felt natural about his waist. My heartbeat quickened and my eyes were wide as I stared at the wall, my breath slipping in and out of me in an unreal evenness. “Kisten …”

“I’ll always be here,” he said softly. “You can never fill my need, never drive me away, no matter how much you give me. The good or the bad. I’ll always be hungry for emotion, always and forever, and I can feel you hurting. I can turn it to joy. If you’ll let me.”

I swallowed as he drew us to a stop. He pulled back, and with a gentle touch on my jaw, he tilted my head so he could see my eyes. The pulsing beat of the music pattered on my mind, numbing and soothing. His gaze was heady. “Let me do this,” he whispered, deeply dangerous. But with his words, he put me in a position of power. I could say no.

I didn’t want to.

My thoughts pinged through me too fast to be realized. His hands felt good, and his eyes held passion. I wanted what he could give me—what he promised. “Why?” I whispered.