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worry, I’ve got you.”
    Trent and the two enforcers collapsed and did not move. Ella held her breath. She could not tell if the men were unconscious or dead.
    The energy storm was still heating, threatening to overwhelm her senses. She wondered if Rafe had lost control of the weapon.
    His hand was still on her shoulder, binding her to him. His forehead was damp with sweat, and when he looked at her she saw that his eyes burned with dark fire. She understood on a primal level that it was sexual heat she saw in his gaze.
    The storm intensified. Lightning sparked in the walls. Rafe’s hand was a mag-steel chain on her shoulder, locking the two of them together. She knew then that their only hope of surviving the howling winds of paranormal fire was to maintain their physical connection. Together they could ride out the blast.
    The tension she was feeling from head to toe was unlike anything she had ever experienced. She was a Siren. She was
always
in control. But she was breathing quickly now, as if she were running. There was a great tension deep inside her. She longed for release; ached for it. The most unnerving revelation of all was that her panties were damp.
    It dawned on her that she was on the cliff edge of a truly shattering orgasm.
    Frantically, she fought to regain control of her senses. What was happening had nothing to do with sex.
    No sex involved
.
    The problem was that she had been flying high when Rafe had arrived and the ensuing excitement had rattled her already over-rezzed senses. That was all.
    No sex involved.
Just her overheated imagination anda heavy dose of adrenaline and other bio-psi chemicals coursing through her blood.
    She could see that Rafe was fighting to lower his talent. She knew then that he was standing at the edge of the same damn cliff.
    And in that moment she wanted nothing more than to take the leap with him. She held her breath.
    Gradually, the fire in his ring faded. The Alien weapon abruptly stopped glowing.
    Rafe groaned and took his hand off her shoulder. The place where his fingers had warmed her skin suddenly felt chilled. She wanted to reclaim the heat of his body. It was all she could do not to wrestle him to the floor. This is madness, she thought. What had happened to her?
    She watched Rafe covertly, trying to ascertain if the side effects of his talent were business as usual as far as he was concerned.
    He took a deep breath. “Sorry about that. Never know exactly what’s going to happen when you rez Alien tech.”
    “Rafe . . . Mr. Coppersmith—” She broke off because she could not think of anything else to say.
    Rafe paid no attention. He was suddenly very busy, moving around the room, collecting flamers, locators, spare amber, and knives from the three mobsters.
    “Are you all right?” he asked over his shoulder.
    She took another deep breath and let it out with control. She was a Morgan and she was a Siren. She could do control.
    “Terrific,” she said. “You?”
    Her control may have been excellent, but when heglanced at her, eyes tightening at the corners, she knew he had caught the thin, sharp edge of sarcasm in her voice. And he had the nerve to be amused.
    She glanced at the artifact that he had just used. “You can activate Alien tech.”
    “It’s a side effect of my talent. I’ve got an affinity for hot crystal and quartz. Since the aliens used those materials in their technology I can usually figure out intuitively how to activate their artifacts. But I prefer to do it under controlled conditions.”
    “Did you know what those relics could do?”
    “Not until I picked up one of them. We knew Vickary had come into possession of a couple of lethal artifacts and that he was planning to sell them. The idea was to take him down at the same time we grabbed Trent. You can see why I was a little irritated when you showed up here today.”
    She raised her chin. “Why are you complaining? You’ve got Vickary, Trent, and those two goons. You should be