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I held her with complete confidence and kissed her with the certainty of a man who knew exactly what he wanted.

Carolina moaned against my mouth. Her fingers tangled in my hair, and the bond flared between us. Heat and light rushed through it without the curse smothering the connection.

“Carolina.” I dragged my mouth from hers and kissed the pulse beating in her throat. “I need you.”

“Here?”

“Here.”

“In my mother’s ritual chamber?”

I looked around at the candles, the ancient runes, and the extremely judgmental statues lining the walls.

“I’m open to other suggestions.”

Carolina slid her hand beneath my shirt. Her palm moved over my stomach, and every muscle tightened beneath her touch.

“No,” she murmured. “Here works.”

A pointed cough came from behind us.

We turned.

Jacqueline stood at the center of the mosaic with one eyebrow raised.

“I had forgotten you were still here,” I admitted.

“That is becoming disturbingly apparent.”

“Mother,” Carolina said, her cheeks turning pink.

“The ritual is complete.” Jacqueline gathered the folds of her white robes. “I will wait in the corridor.”

She took three steps, then stopped.

“The central altar is sacred.”

My gaze moved toward the smaller altar positioned against the wall. It was covered in dark velvet and surrounded by white candles.

“And that one?” I asked.

Jacqueline closed her eyes briefly, perhaps appealing to the old gods for patience.

“That altar has endured worse.”

She left the chamber and closed the door behind her.

“I like your mother,” I said.

“No, you don’t.”

“No, I really don’t.”

Carolina caught the hem of my shirt and pulled it over my head. “Are you planning to keep talking?”

“I’ve been told it’s one of my more irritating qualities.”

“I can think of a way to shut you up.”