His reaction was swift. He pulled away and distanced himself from her, standing behind the high-back chair near the fireplace. "Enough," he said, his stern tone a clear command for her to obey.

She had other ideas, and besides she was enjoying the chase. She advanced on him. "I've just started."

"You've just ended," he said firmly.

She stopped her purposeful steps and sent him a deliberate pout. "You don't want me?"

"You know d.a.m.n well I want you, and quit that pouting, it makes your lips look much too appealing."

She continued her slow approach. "Good, because I want to taste you."

"Sarina," he warned in a low moan and reminded. "Your tenderness-"

"Has turned to an ache."

Her words inflamed his own need, turning him rock hard and most uncomfortable.

She continued softly and suggestively. "And besides, tasting you would in no way affect my discomfort, though it might alleviate yours."

She was almost on top of him, near enough to reach out and touch, near enough to hear his rapid breathing, and she smiled as she raised her hand.

Dagon smiled back and floated up and out of her reach.

"That's not fair," she said with a petulant stamp of her foot.

"No, it is not," he a.s.sured her, continuing to float out of her reach each time she attempted to move closer to him. "It is not fair that I receive pleasure and you don't."

She licked her lips deliberately slow. "The taste of you will pleasure me."

"Sarina," he warned, again his own resolve melting away at the sight of her tongue playing so sinfully with her own lips.

She stopped and extended welcoming arms out to him. "Please, don't disappointment me, Dagon. I ache to taste you."

His resolve hung by a thin thread, another word, a mere whisper, and he was finished. He did not expect her next move, and it simply did him in completely.

In one fluid motion she stripped herself of her dress and stood naked in front of him, except for her socks, and extended her arms out in an invitation any sane or insane man would not refuse.

And he didn't. He went to her without hesitation.

She pressed her finger to his lips when he attempted to speak. "Shhh, listen to the silence and feel, feel it all."

And he did, closing his eyes as her hands went to his zipper and slowly pulled it down.

Dagon sat staring at the fire in the hearth, perplexed yet content. Sarina had left his study over an hour ago, happy and hungry. He laughed softly to himself. This time it was a different kind of hunger. She had well satisfied him and was now looking for a more viable kind of sustenance. With her lavender dress in place and her face flushed she had deposited a quick kiss on his lips and fled the room.

He gave a brief thought to joining her, but his need for solitude overwhelmed him, and he allowed her to flee, for now. His mind was in turmoil, and issues needed to be addressed before this situation slipped from his grasp.

But then, hadn't it already?

He had surrendered completely to her will, and the thought disturbed him. She had driven him mindless with her touch, tongue, and taunting. He had never imagined feeling the way he had felt or surrendering so completely to another.

When she had told him to listen to the silence and feel, he had no idea of the depth or strength that her suggestion evoked. Her touch was pure magic, it tingled, it stroked, it aroused in him a sensation he had never experienced before. He had learned what it felt to feel truly alive, to feel the core of your being, to sense all and more, to know without knowing, and to surrender absolutely to love.

His mind played over the physical intimacy they had shared, the way her hands had cupped and stroked him with infinite and precise care and how her tongue had explored him with a brief hesitancy at first and then with a mindless relish. Her mouth taunted, her words excited, and the combination proved lethal. But it was the emotional intimacy that remained strong and constant, forever a part of them both, and that was a rare and treasured gift he refused to lose.

He stretched himself out of the chair and walked casually to his desk. Sarina was a part of him now, an intricate part of him. He supposed he could compare the necessity of her in his life to his breathing. Without breath there was no life. Without Sarina life did not exist.

He shuddered at the intensity of his realization. He had hoped to love but never dared to think he would find a love so strong that his life would seem empty without her. He had found a rare love, and that was a rare occurrence.

Now he needed to take certain steps to secure their relationship and deal with the impending problem of the Ancient One's visit.

A steady rap at the door sounded before Sebastian stuck his head in. "The women are having their usual chat session, thought you might want some company."

Solitary time to make some decisions was more on his mind, but then a good talk with a friend might be just what he needed. "Let's go to the tower room. I think you'll find it interesting."

"Tower room?" Sebastian asked suspiciously.

Dagon laughed. "It's not a dungeon."

"It does sound ominous," Sebastian said, falling into step with Dagon as he left the study.

"I suppose it does, but I call it the tower room because it's located at the top of the tower."

"Makes sense," Sebastian said, climbing the stairs behind Dagon. "Funny thing, I always thought everything needed to make sense until I met Ali. She taught me otherwise."

"Women have a way of making men see things differently."

"You can say that again. I had my life all planned quite nicely, thank you."

Dagon agreed. "As did I. No b.u.mps, detours, or major hurdles to leap, just a nice solid straight road."

On the third floor they walked to the end of the hallway and mounted a curving staircase.

"Solid can be boring," Sebastian said, his fine-tuned physical condition not even causing him to break a sweat or breathe heavily from the steep climb.

"I've discovered that myself," Dagon said, opening the door at the top of the stairs.

Sebastian gave a low appreciative whistle when he entered. "This I like."

Dagon smiled and walked to the bra.s.s and gla.s.s wine rack where it sat between two long narrow windows. "It's actually my collector's room, or I suppose you could refer to it as my memory."

Sebastian eyed the various weapons mounted on wood, protected by gla.s.s, or simply suspended by wire. Then there were the period costumes all protected by gla.s.s cases. Old maps framed in dark solid wood circled the brick wall, and expert lighting reflected on each object at just the precise angle, highlighting the beauty and workmanship of the piece right down to the minute hand st.i.tches of the clothing.

Sebastian stared with respect and awe at each and every piece, fearing he would not have enough time to study every one of them. "These all belonged to you through the centuries?"

Dagon poured them each a gla.s.s of merlot. "Me, family, and friends."

"This collection is priceless."

"In more ways than one," Dagon said, handing Sebastian the gla.s.s of merlot.

He took it. "I can understand. A piece of your history is contained in every object."

Dagon walked over to a gla.s.s table in the center of the room that sat in the center of a group of soft cushioned beige tweed chairs. "You'll be interested in this collection."

Sebastian joined him, taking a seat beside Dagon and looking curiously at the odd collection beneath the gla.s.s top. "These look like plain ordinary stones."

Dagon relaxed back in his chair. "They are, though their history is fascinating."

His curiosity caught, Sebastian sat back and waited.

Dagon didn't wait, he plunged right ahead. "Ali is responsible for this collection."

Sebastian held up his hand. "Don't tell me-she threw these at you one time or another."

Dagon laughed. "You are perceptive."

"I understand my wife. Actually I wouldn't be surprised if you had a recent one in there."

Dagon pointed to a smooth white stone about the size of a quarter. "Last year."

Sebastian laughed. "Did she hit you?"

"Never," he said with pride.

Sebastian raised his gla.s.s in tribute. "To continued victory."

"With Ali that's easy," Dagon said, his gla.s.s clinking with Sebastian's.

"With Sarina?"

"I'll have my victory, of that you can be a.s.sured, but answers elude me."

"What are the questions?"

"I forget your business is security"-Dagon shrugged- "but then maybe you can help."

"I always find the answer," Sebastian insisted, "with a little help," he added, recalling the help Dagon

had given him.

"This pertains to magic."

"I'm learning, and in my ignorance I may see the truth others don't."

"Wise words only a witch could speak."

Sebastian basked in the praise. "Thanks, I appreciate the compliment."

"You deserve it. Now tell me your professional opinion of Sarina."

Sebastian obliged him. "She's not who she seems to be."

"Elaborate on that, would you?"

"She hides her real self. She is much too intelligent to be an inept witch, something that is so obvious I

just don't understand why anyone hasn't realized it."

Dagon sounded disappointed in himself. "I'm just beginning to."

"Don't berate yourself, it wasn't your fault."

"How wasn't it?"

"You fell in love, and love, as everyone knows, is blind."

"I don't like to group myself with the common denominator."

"None of us do, but we all fit the mold. When love hits we've had it, we all become idiots."

Dagon attempted to rationalize the situation. "So in my blind love I failed to see her true nature."

Sebastian shook his head. "Not too good at this, are you?"

"Explain," Dagon said impatiently.

Once again Sebastian obliged him. "Sarina does not hide her true nature, she simply hides her ident.i.ty."

"Who she really is?"

"Exactly, and she is no inept witch. I'd say she's a wise witch."

"That would make her old."

"Have you bothered to ask her age? A question I would suggest you don't wait until your wedding night

to ask, and take that bit of advice from experience."

"No, I've never asked her age. I always a.s.sumed-"