Sometimes involuntary

Lara came at me in a black-and-white-and-silver-eyed blur that covered twenty feet in less time than it took me to blink. She caught the front of my duster in her pale hands and whirled me into the mat with enough force to make me see stars. By the time I’d brushed a few of them out of my field of view, Lara was astride me, one hand twisted into my duster, one hand lifted knifelike and rigid, ready to sweep down at my throat.
“Do not,” she hissed, leaning closer toward me, “presume to tell me what my family is worth to me. Or what I am willing to do for them.”
I didn’t have a whole lot to say to that. Both of us panted. I found myself staring at her mouth.
Lara’s eyes brightened, glittered like mirrors. She stared at me for a second, breathing heavily herself with the exertion of moving so swiftly.
I was intensely aware of the sensation of her weight on me. So was my … body. But then my body is always overly enthusiastic.
More to the point, the Winter mantle was going berserk. The mantle didn’t just come with access to nifty Fae power sources and greater physical speed and strength. Winter was the spiritual home of all things primal and primitive. They were hunters, raiders, takers. Don’t search the Winter Court of the Sidhe for a hug. You won’t find one anywhere that doesn’t collapse your ribs into your spine—but if you want savage, animalistic sex, yeah. You’ve come to the right place. I mean, you might get torn to pieces in the process, but in Winter, them’s the breaks.
The mantle thought that Lara was a fantastic idea. That she needed someone to tear those clothes off her and spend several hours with her in heavy physical exertion, and it thought that someone ought to be me. My body was backing up that concept. It backed it up so strongly that I felt the slow, sensual tension slide into my muscles, pressing my body against her a little more firmly wherever we were in contact.
“Oh,” Lara breathed quietly. Her eyes shone like mirrors.
I looked down and away from them, lest things get even more complicated. It was little improvement. It meant I could see one of her legs, positioned out to one side, and it had come clear of the folds of the kimono. Her skin was flawless and pale over absolutely glorious musculature. Even her feet were pretty.
She leaned closer and inhaled through her nose. The proximity made me feel dizzy—among other things.
I focused through the … well, not pain, but the need was rapidly building in that direction. I pushed my body’s stupid ideas away and spoke in a calm, level voice. “Lara,” I said quietly.
“Yes?” she breathed.
“Is it involuntary,” I asked her, “or are you using the come-hither on me on purpose?”
I tried for a calm, bright, conversational tone. It came out a hell of a lot lower and quieter and huskier than I meant. Because at the moment, the only thing I could really think very much about was how much I wanted to toss her onto a bed and start ripping off clothing. There wasn’t any thought or emotion behind that drive—just the primal, physical need of a body screaming for satisfaction.
I wondered if she was feeling something similar.
Her pale eyes stared steadily at my face, and she looked like she was thinking about something else. It took her a moment to lick her lips and answer. “It’s … some of both. I can use it whenever I wish to. But I can’t always choose when not to use it.”
I swallowed. “Then get off me.” At least I’d gotten the words in the right order. “This is a business trip. I came here to try to find a way to help Thomas. Not to get frisky with an apex sexual predator.”


Peace Talks Chapter 14, Page 134-136