Read Dark Tremor (Mated by Magic #2) for Free Online Page B

like a freight train had blasted through it. What a fucking mess. “You got anything to drink?”
    “There should be a bottle of Diet Coke in the fridge.” Terra knelt on the floor, picking up the scattered gems. Her pants rode down low exposing a lacy pink thong.
    He groaned when she bent lower, lifting her ass in the air.
    “I was hoping for something a bit harder.” He’d need it to survive being alone with her. Maybe he could drink away his constant hard on.
    She glanced over her shoulder. “There’s a bottle of Jose Cuervo in the pantry…if it survived the fall.”
    “Tequila?” He raised an eyebrow.
    She shrugged.
    Bottle in hand, he scooped up two unbroken cups from the floor.
    Her lips turned down in a cute little pout when he offered her a glass.
    Damn, but she had a sexy as fuck mouth. His cock responded, which irritated the hell out of him.
    “If we’re going to be stuck, for God knows how long, we might as well enjoy ourselves.” He shoved a glass in her hand, saluted her, then tipped his back. He hissed out a breath as the liquid burned down his throat. “God, that stuff’s nasty.”
    She rolled her eyes, then shot hers back like a pro. “Wimp.”
    He couldn’t help the grin that tugged at his lips.
    A small, framed photo lay on the floor. Crouching, he picked it up and studied the young woman and little girl that stared back at him. The resemblance was striking. Matching blue eyes, dirty blonde hair, pouty, full lips.
    “This your mom?” He held it up to her.
    “Stop touching things.” She grabbed the photo from his hand and clutched it protectively against her chest.
    Ouch. The badger was back. “How long have you lived alone out here?”
    “I’m not alone.”
    “Feline companionship doesn’t really count.” Pumpkin rubbed against his leg. “It’s dangerous to be out here all by yourself. What if something happened?”
    “What? Like being buried under thirty feet of rocks and dirt?”
    “Touché.” He snickered and poured another generous shot into her glass.
    “No boyfriend?” Shit, why the hell had he asked that?
    “No.” She frowned up at him. “I have Jelly if there’s an emergency.” 
    She leaned her head back and swallowed without wincing.
    “No family?”
    “There’s a clan of healers that lives a couple miles south of here. They’ve been my family since–” She glanced down at the photo she held and paled. “Since my mom died.”
    “I’m sorry.”
    “It was a long time ago.”
    “You want to talk about it?”
    She shook her head, placed the photo on the desk, then held out her glass for him to pour another shot. “Nothing to talk about. Cancer. You know the drill.”
    Actually he didn’t. Witches weren’t impervious to the disease, but it was very rare for one to contract it, or any illness for that matter. Jace couldn’t remember the last time he’d even had a cold.
    “You’re not a half-breed are you?”
    “What? No.”
    Hell. Now he’d insulted her. “So your mom was a witch?”
    “Yeah. Why?” She reached down and picked up the damn cat that looked up at him imperiously, no doubt sniggering under all that fur.
    “Nothing,” he muttered. Something about her story was all wrong. But why would she lie to him? “How old were you when she died?”
    She rubbed the cat’s head, while cradling him in her arms, lovingly. First time he’d ever wished he was feline.
    After kissing it on the head, she looked up and said, “Fifteen. What’s with all the questions?”             
    “You’ve been out here, all by yourself since you were fifteen?”
    She sat down on the couch, tucked her feet underneath, and the cat crawled up her chest. He moaned internally. Now that was just uncalled for.
    “I told you, I’m not by myself,” she said, petting the little beast.
    The cat gave Jace a smug look. Seriously?
    The far side of the couch was too close, by his reckoning. He shifted away a bit more. “Right. You’ve got the fur ball