Chill Factor by Rachel Caine Read Free Book Online Page A

teeth lightly grazed the skin of my shoulder. I put my arms around him, holding him, feeling the waves surge and break. Waves of power, transforming and pure.
    He whispered words against me that broke me apart, destroyed me, rebuilt me as we moved, and I didn’t recognise a word of it, and it no longer mattered, because now I understood . The way flesh accepts touch, or lungs accept air.
    He was telling me he loved me, the way Djinn say the words, and it was more beautiful and more terrifying than the banners of war.
    I fell asleep in his arms, safe and warm and untroubled, and there were no dreams.
       
    I woke up to thunder. Reflex action: I checked Oversight, and found nothing out of the ordinary out there, then realised that the thunder was knocking, and there were people outside of my hotel room.
    ‘Jo!’ A man’s voice, rough and authoritative. ‘Open the damn door. Right now!’
    I knew the voice. I let my head fall back against the pillow of David’s warm skin, and said what he already knew. ‘Great. The boss is checking up on us.’
    David pulled away from me and I could feel the fury burning through him, see it boiling in hiseyes. This could get very unpleasant.
    ‘Go,’ I told him. ‘Let me handle it.’
    His hot eyes scorched me, just for a second, but behind the anger I saw worry for me. I kissed him, fast and hard, and felt him mist away.
    The door slammed open. I yelped and crawled backward, clutching the covers over myself, until my naked back met the cold headboard.
    My boss, Paul Giancarlo, flanked by three other Wardens. One of them was Marion Bearheart, the woman who scared me most in the world; nice lady, frightening powers, and the right and responsibility to use them.
    I flipped up into the aetheric plane to get a quick reading, and saw Paul in his avatar form – his outline had the unmistakable suggestion of a knight in armour, sword in hand. In the real world he looked more like a refugee from The Sopranos , complete to gold chain peeking through dark chest hair, and a stretch golf shirt that didn’t make him look like anybody who chased a ball around the back nine for fun. Sexy, and dangerous as hell.
    Marion’s bronzed features were expressionless here in the real word, turned sharper by her grey-and-black hair being pulled back in a thick single braid. She was wearing a black leather jacket with fringe blurring the edges, blue jeans, black cowboy boots. Up on the aetheric, I caught the flare of eagle wings in her aura.
    I didn’t know the other two except on a nodding acquaintance. Both were seniors, both from outside the country. One was from Canada, one from Brazil. Their presence in my hotel room was not reassuring.
    Paul gave me his most impersonal look, and that meant something really, really bad. Paul always took time to notice and appreciate the little things, like a naked woman in bed.
    ‘Get dressed,’ he said. ‘Hurry.’
    He turned and left. Marion stayed behind, shutting the door after the others. She crossed her arms and watched me. I watched her right back.
    ‘A little privacy?’ I asked. She cocked her head to one side, eyes bright as a raven’s, and smiled a refusal. I threw the covers back and walked naked across the floor to pull open drawers on the dresser. David had left my clothes neatly stacked.
    As I dressed, Marion kept her eyes on the bed I’d just abandoned, and finally she said, ‘It’s wrong, you know.’
    I didn’t play dumb. I just asked, ‘Why?’ as I fastened my bra.
    ‘He’s at your mercy. Even if he loves you, Joanne – and I have no doubt he does; I’ve seen enough to know that – inevitably, it’ll turn to something else. A slave doesn’t love a master. A slave endures a master. This will twist and sicken. It can’t do anything else.’ Her voice dropped lower. ‘You’ll losehim. And even if you don’t, it makes you terribly, terribly vulnerable.’
    ‘It’s not like that.’ Even as I said it, I felt the lie turn in my