Only Caden.
Why? She barely knew him. A few days shouldnt be enough to make her crave him. But she wanted him in a way that was beyond both her experience and her ability to describe. She didnt just want, she needed to feel his mouth demanding carnal pleasure from her, to see desire in his eyes, to have him wrap her in his arms afterward and hold her tenderly. The thought of taking him in her hands, watching his pleasure build, then sharing herself with him and revealing how much he meant to her, made her ache. What the bloody hell was it about the man? They shared good chemistry . . . but this was more.
Sighing, she uncurled herself from the sofa and meandered back to her bedroom. She might as well tuck herself in early, catch up on sleep. Maybe this odd need would go away.
Good advice, but Sydney gravitated straight to the picture window in her bedroom. The night danced across the moonlit skyline, a vision of urban romance with St. Paul and the London Eye lit up. The sight magnified her loneliness. In the silent blue dark, with faint sounds of humanity below, she admitted that she didnt want anyone but Caden.
If he wanted her, it wasnt with the same passion.
As she turned away from the window to her bed, heavy tears filled her eyes again. Swallowing, she stared up at the ceiling and willed them away. Not now. Later, she would give in to her loneliness and her need for chocolate. If she started now, she feared shed cry until her nose turned bunny red and her eyes swelled for days.
Determined to leave the pity party behind, Sydney went through her bedtime ritual. If she felt sorry for anyone, it should be that poor witch, who was haunted by a man she couldnt rememberand wanted to so desperately. Her plight had touched something inside Sydney. Though her own parents were happy, shed always been unlucky in love. And now she wanted no one but Caden.
Sydney crawled into bed. She closed her eyes and pictured him lying beside her, touching her, rolling over and demanding her body with just one look from those piercing blue eyes. In her mind, he murmured how much he wanted her, how much she meant to him, and she melted.
Foolish. She shook her head to clear away the fantasy. He wanted her story, her sources, her information, much more than he wanted her. She must dislodge the fantasy and get to sleep.
A distraction. She needed one now to take her mind off the melodrama of her own PMS-induced depression or whatever it was.
A good book would do the trick. Or maybe she should spend a little time with her new magical diary. She snorted, but she opened her nightstand drawer and glanced at it.
Shed expected Aquarius to fix her office in a Feng Shuifriendly arrangement or give her a half-hour session with an astrological counselor. But a magical journal that granted fantasies? The concept was intriguing and unexpected, but a bit far outeven for Aquarius.
What do you have to lose? her assistant had asked. Her dignity. Her sanity. Her hunky photographer when he laughed in her face if he ever saw what she wrote.
But how would he? She kept the book in her bedrooma place hed likely never enter. Besides, the possibility that she actually held a magical diary was as likely as little green men taking over Britain next week. So how would he ever know?
As she snuggled down into her blankets, she wondered what Caden would be like as a lover. Soft? Dominating? A challenge? Intenseshed bet that much. Caden didnt seem the type to do anything halfway.
At the thought, need gripped Sydney low in her belly. She felt hot and cold, light-headed and heavy-limbed as a new vision gripped her imagination. What if, yesterday morning, he hadnt come to her flat to search for information, but to ravish her? What if, when she answered the door in her lingerie, hed been overcome with passion and taken her right there? Mmm, heaven. Sinking into the vision, she imagined them breathing togethera sharp inhalation at the end of each plunging thrust. With strong fingers, hed grip her hips as if he couldnt get deep enough, wouldnt be satisfied until he claimed her completely. She closed her eyes and let the fantasy consume her. A drop of sweat trickled down his brow, onto her chest. Jaw set, he threw his head back and moaned that no other woman affected him this way.
Yes, she knew hed turned her down and been more interested in the contents of her stories than her knickers. But it was her fantasy.
Maybe . . . writing her wishes about Caden would be cathartic. If she got them out of her system, perhaps she could sleep and wake tomorrow with this odd obsession gone.
Sydney peeked at the diary. Flushed and tingling, she picked up the red book. To hell with caution. She would worry later about what would happen if Caden ever read her wishes. Or the unlikely chance that she could actually compel him to her bed magically. If that happened, shed deal with the damage to her heart then. Plus, shed earmarked the book as a potential story. If she was considering writing about the little volume, shouldnt she research it?
Impulsively, she grabbed the little book and wrote:
Dear Magical Diary,
I have this fantasy. Mad, really. But I dream of Caden MacTavish storming my door, ordering me naked, ravishing my body . . .
An hour later, Sydney sighed as she put her pen aside and closed the book. Desire dampened her palms, the valley between her breasts, the cleft between her thighs. Oh, now she really ached for Caden and the delicious fantasy shed just written.
Imagination was a powerful aphrodisiac. As the words flowed from her mind onto the page, Sydney felt as if shed slipped into a trance. She could nearly feel Cadens mouth caressing her nape, his fingers rolling her nipples, his erection sliding a burning path deep inside her. She could almost hear him say that he could not resist her for another minute, look at her like she alone mattered to him.
The compelling fantasy left her with an urgent need for satisfaction. And while she wanted Caden to sate her, he wasnt here. Nor was he likely to suddenly appear and make this all a reality, despite Aquariuss claims.
Sydney reached for the light, intent on dousing it so she could find her own relief. But she happened to glance at the book first. There, in script that was not hers, were two lines she had not written:
Sleep, dream, anticipate . . .
The fantasy you imagine will soon be your fate.
CHAPTER FOUR
SUNDAY MORNING CAME, AND though his head throbbed after drowning images of last night with whiskey, Caden knew he must ask someone to teleport him to London. He hated relying on magic, but without a clear idea where he was or how to get back to London, he was stuck.
You look like hell, Bram offered.
No shit. Caden pried open one eye, wincing at the sunlight, and stared back at the Doomsday Brethrens leader. The wizard looked surprisingly disheveled and exhausted.
Youre unlikely to win any bloody pageants, either. Caden snorted, then sobered as he remembered Sabelle and her sacrifice. Bram, about your sister . . . shes taking a great deal of risk to help my brother and . . .
He didnt want anything tragic to befall Sabelle, but how could he tell Bram to make her stop when she might be the only person separating Lucan from death?
Youre worried. Bram sighed. Im not surprised. Shes always been too brave.
Helping Lucan is very dangerous.
Bram frowned. Shes your last recourse. I understand your discomfort. Even Ice had words with me last night about the matter. But, in truth, shell heed none of us and do exactly as she likes.
Before Caden could argue, a series of gongs and whistles sounded, startling him.
Bram stiffened and swore. What the hell does he want?
Who? Caden scanned the room in confusion. There was no one about but the two of them.