Witch Hunter. Shannon Curtis

just a touch, invading both her personal and mental spaces. She tried to shore them up, but no matter how many times she tried erecting them, his presence kept swamping her.

      “I owe you one, Sully,” he told her seriously, his voice low. “What I did, I have to make it up to you. I’m granting you a favor.”

      A flare of forthrightness, a heavy dose of resolve, washed over her. “A favor,” she repeated.

      He nodded. “I happen to take debts very seriously. I owe you.”

      Well, she didn’t think he owed her anything, but if this was important to him, she wasn’t above using it. Warm promise. Integrity.

      “Great. Let me—”

      He placed a finger on her lips, and again, sensations rolled through her, her senses awakening to him, overriding her personal shields. She could feel his determination, his dedication—and his resistance. And something else. Something... Oh. Desire. She trembled, feeling a reciprocal flare of attraction.

      “I have to find this witch,” he murmured, “and I will not endanger you. This favor I grant you is for your use, at a time of your choosing, but I will never let you use it to put yourself in danger. Do you understand?”

      His voice was so deep, so low. His expression was grim, intent. She stared up at his sunglasses, stunned by the sincerity, the commitment behind his words. “Uh, yes.” She whispered the words against his finger.

      “You need anything, you call for me.”

      She nodded slowly.

      “I’ll come for you. This is my promise to you.” He said the words like a vow, conveying a determination that was...well, knee-weakening.

      He dipped his head once in acknowledgment. His finger trailed across her lips. It was as though every cell in her body awakened and paused in anticipation. He brushed his finger first over her top lip, then across the bottom, pressing it down gently. Her mouth parted, and he lowered his head, removing his finger as his lips pressed against hers.