Primal Pleasure: Pendragon Gargoyles, Book 3

by Sydney Somers

  He shook his head as though it would wipe away the carnal images of Emma arching beneath him, her nails raking his back, and listened.

  The sound of running water registered first, then the thin slash of light that escaped the side of the bathroom door. Halfway across the room, he spotted the thin chain snaking across the floor and disappearing between the door and the frame.

  Briana had anchored the other end of the chain in his room before giving him the key that was presently burning a hole in his pocket. By the time he reached the door, the flicker of disappointment at not finding her in his bed had vanished. A new hotter, hungrier tension rippled under his skin.

  He tried the handle, surprised when the door moved easily. Either she hadn’t been expecting him since he’d gone out of his way to avoid her, or she realized somehow barricading the door wouldn’t be worth the effort.

  Or maybe she wasn’t even in the shower, water sliding down her body, beading off her nipples, waiting for him to catch the trailing drops with his tongue.

  Cian squeezed his eyes shut, but the door gave way as though he couldn’t stop it. Like a man possessed, he slipped into the room, intent on making sure she hadn’t somehow escaped before he figured out what to do with her.

  As if you don’t already know.

  Ignoring that thought before it could get him into trouble, he let his eyes adjust to the bright light. He noticed her clothes first—some in a pile on the floor while her shirt and jacket had been threaded through the chain next to it.

  It took only a second to spot her through the frosted glass.

  There, he’d seen that she hadn’t found a way to slip away on him. He should go. The cat growled in protest, wanting to be close to Emma. The man wasn’t exactly in disagreement, so he lingered another moment.

  Steam clouded the air, the damp heat making him even hotter. She stayed so still he assumed she’d noticed him, then she slowly turned her face up to the spray.

  He gripped the door handle tighter, prepared to leave—determined to—right up until she shook out her braid and all that long black hair. Entranced, he let his gaze follow the curling strands all the way down to the small of her back, then lower, cursing the frosted glass the whole way.

  Taking another three steps into the room, he thought about sliding the door across to get a much better look at those enticing naked curves. The need only intensified when she reached for the soap. Already hard for her, he was aching by the time she slid the bar of soap over her hip and up to her breasts.

  The sorceress was slaying him to pieces. Much more and she’d have to step over his body to get out of the bathroom.

  “You’re staring.”

  His gaze snapped to her face, and she glanced over her shoulder at him.

  He shook his head. He stared at beautiful women or females with really incredible breasts. What he did now, his quick exit forgotten, wasn’t so much staring as it was devouring.

  She slid the door open a couple of inches. “Here to scrub my back, gargoyle?”

  Her back wasn’t a bad place to start. Then her hips perhaps, and that sweet curve leading down to the inside of her thighs…

  Definitely slaying him.

  “So if you’re not staring and don’t plan on scrubbing my back, what are you doing in here?”

  Cian waited until she rinsed her hair before answering. There wasn’t much point in talking if her head was under running water, and if it gave him another moment to watch her through the glass, there was no harm in that either. “I wanted to see if you were hungry.”

  She shut off the water. “Is stale bread and water on the menu?”

  “That’s what my family has been feeding you?”

  “No, but then they don’t hate me as much as you do.”

  He would have nodded if not for the cat threatening to break free. The instinct to protect her, even from himself, left him uncomfortable in his own skin.

  Annoyed with the present situation, one he’d put himself in the second he sought her out, he crossed his arms and leaned against the vanity.

  Emma’s brows crinkled together. “Towel, please.”

  He didn’t move.

  She slid the glass open another few inches, her face wet and flushed from the hot water. “They’re right behind you.” She pointed over his shoulder as though to redirect his gaze from her.

  Now that he was paying attention, she didn’t seem nearly at ease with him there as she let on. She shifted her weight, her breaths whispering unevenly past her lips. Despite that, she didn’t break eye contact, seeming to sense that backing down in any way would give the predator in him the edge.

  Suspecting she’d just brazen it out if he were enough of an ass to pass her a hand towel, he snagged the closest oversize one. Without the water beating down her scent, it wrapped around him until he couldn’t take a breath without feeling like he was taking her in.

  And it felt good. Too good for a woman who had robbed him of a hundred years.

  Throwing the towel over the glass, he glared at her. “Hurry up.”

  “Or what, you’ll come in here and get me? That is what you cats do, don’t you? Strong-arm your females into doing everything you say?”

  “You are not my female.”

  An unreadable emotion blinked across her face, then she smiled sweetly. “Thank the gods for that.”

  Emma took her time getting dressed and towel-drying her hair. She hadn’t seen him since they’d come down from the roof, and his unexpected appearance had rattled her. Briana had warned her that Cian would decide what to do with her, and she’d been preparing herself for his anger, assuming she didn’t find a way to escape first.

  But anger hadn’t been what she’d glimpsed on his face when she noticed him in the bathroom, not at first anyway. His expression had been much too…carnal.

  She shivered despite the chain clinking against the vanity, reminding her of her precarious situation. She was familiar enough with the way men looked at women when they had sex on their minds to recognize it instantly.

  Only Cian had taken it to another level entirely, like moving from the heat of a warming ray of sunshine to full-scale nuclear meltdown.

  When her insides threatened to ignite all over again, she pulled the borrowed comb harder through her wet hair. She had enough to deal with without overanalyzing the last few minutes—like the six-foot-plus gargoyle pacing on the other side of the door.

  Were all cats so high strung, or just the ones who had been locked in stone for a few decades?

  Elena had really done it this time. Maybe if her sister stopped and overanalyzed things once in a while, Emma would be spared from dealing with the repercussions of her sister’s impulsive actions.

  Twice Cian pounded on the door for her to hurry up. Both times she ignored him. Rushing would mean acknowledging how much he intimidated her. Without strong magic to rely on, she’d learned early that most confrontations were avoidable as long as she didn’t show any weakness.

  Okay, there was a tiny, foolish part of her that wanted to see if he actually planned on dragging her out of there. Maybe if he got rough with her, she’d be able to stop thinking about the way he’d been staring at her earlier and when they’d been on the roof.

  Telling herself he’d been confused and bewildered after the sudden change hadn’t been working to erase the memories of his mouth brushing her cheek.

  How was it that their near kiss did more for her than her last boyfriend had? And the Fae has been pretty talented with his mouth. She hadn’t had any complaints at the time, or none she’d admitted to herself, until the jerk dumped her for a sorceress whose magic was both “potent and predictable”. Asshole.

  Another pound on the door was followed by a scraping sound.

  His claws?

  The sound should have made her retreat instead of edge closer to the door. Maybe if she wasn’t thinking of him using a claw or two to strategically slice away her clothes.

  God, she needed help. She st
udied her reflection. How long did Stockholm Syndrome usually take to kick in? Never mind that she’d spent most of her time alone, wondering what he planned to do with her.

  Not wanting to appear as though she were hiding out, she finally strolled out of the bathroom—and right into a solid wall.

  Two arms slipped around her, steadying her when she bounced backward.

  “You took too long,” he growled.

  “Sorry. Didn’t realize you kept your prisoners on such a tight schedule. What’s next, time in the exercise yard? Or maybe laundry duty?”

  “Better a prisoner than…” He abruptly released her without finishing.

  “Dead? Is that what you were going to say?”

  “And what do you think is a fitting punishment for what you did to me?”

  The only punishment Emma had in mind was for her sister. “Time served?”

  He snorted and motioned for her to follow him.

  Wary, she hung back. “You’re letting me leave the room?”

  Without answering, he unlocked the chain from the bolt on the floor. She watched him pocket the key, not bothering to hide her interest. His lethal smile dared her to try and retrieve it.

  She shrugged. “Maybe later.”

  In a blink he closed the distance between them, grabbing her hand.

  Her gaze dropped to where his warm fingers encircled her wrist. “Are you always hands-on with your prisoners?”

  Releasing her instantly, he frowned. “No tricks.”

  She jiggled her wrist, rattling the chain that nulled what little magic she did possess. “Only because you said please.”

  Emma thought she glimpsed a smile on his lips before he preceded her out of the room. She fell into step with him, trying not to let her fear show. He could have been lying about feeding her for all she knew, wanting to keep her cooperative for as long as possible.

  Suspicious, she watched him from the corner of her eye. He even moved like a predator, each step fluidly lethal, as though he could turn on a dime and have his teeth buried in her throat.

  Like the others before, that thought wasn’t nearly as disturbing as it should have been. Was there a syndrome for imagining your captor had a thing for you? Suddenly that kind of condition seemed the more dangerous of the two.

  Feeling her gaze on him, Cian glared at her.

  “You cut your hair,” she offered, as it if it were a perfectly reasonable explanation for looking at him.

  Seeming puzzled, he nodded, leading her into the spacious kitchen.

  She lingered in the doorway a moment, feeling a stab of envy. She’d been tempted to update her own kitchen more than once only to be talked out of it every time. According to Elena, what was the point of a state-of-the-art kitchen if Emma would just blow things up in it?

  Though maybe if she invested in a few cooking classes, she wouldn’t feel compelled to add a touch of magic to speed the culinary process along.

  A slight jerk on the chain refocused her attention on Cian. He turned away from the fridge, his hands loaded with plates of food, nodding for her to take a seat at the table.

  It hadn’t been that long since she’d eaten last but her stomach rumbled at the sight of the food. This time she was sure she didn’t imagine the smile flicker across Cian’s face. He set the plates down and turned to the laptop propped open on the counter.

  Assuming he had no intention of eating with her, she plucked a cold piece of chicken from the closest plate and took a bite. Cian kept his back to her while she worked her way through two pieces of chicken and some cold pasta salad. His fingers tapped away at the keys, each stroke becoming more of a stab as he started to mutter to himself.

  When he cursed for the third time, she gave in to her curiosity. “Problem?”

  He didn’t acknowledge that she’d said anything, but moved over a little, letting her see the screen.

  She waited until he cursed again, his fingers hitting the keys so hard she wasn’t sure which of the pair was going to come away unscathed, then joined him at the counter.

  He shoved the laptop aside. “It’s not working.”

  Glancing at the flashing cursor, she tugged the machine toward her, anticipating the memories that came with touching it. Most were tied to Briana, but the most recent were Cian’s, and with only a few keystrokes she understood his mounting frustration with technology.

  “What’s the password? Come on,” she added when he wasn’t immediately forthcoming. “I’m a sorceress not a hacker.”

  His brows drew together. “Hacker?”

  “Someone really good with computers.”

  He didn’t look convinced.

  “I shop online, gargoyle. I don’t fleece people’s bank accounts. Though I once dated a dragon that built himself quite a little nest egg in the Cayman Islands that way.”

  Cian growled and turned away.

  Yeah, she hadn’t approved of her date’s questionable pastime either, but doubted the gargoyle cared about that. He’d already made up his mind about her.

  “Pendragons,” he finally admitted in a skeptical tone.

  She typed in the password, and noticed Cian’s I-told-you-so look when the box flashed and denied her access.

  Ignoring him—until he stepped up behind her anyway—she frowned at the keys. “Caps lock is on.” She retyped the password and gave him a triumphant smile when it unlocked and loaded the operating system. “Don’t suppose we’re even now?”

  He leaned in, peering over her shoulder at the screen. “Just be sure to put the key to your chain under the mat when you leave.”

  Emma rolled her eyes. Wasn’t he just hilarious?

  Cian pointed to the Internet browser icon. “That one.”

  “Want to surf for a while, huh?”

  “We’re not near the ocean.”

  “What?” She glanced over her shoulder, saw the confusion on his face. “I meant surf the web. Sorry,” she added when he finally nodded. Turning back to the laptop, she mumbled, “Must be a lot to adjust to.”

  She cringed as soon as the words left her mouth. She’d taken a page right out of Elena’s speak-before-you-think book with that one. Instantly she felt his gaze boring holes into the back of her head. At least his claws stayed sheathed.

  For now.

  Cursing her sister for the thousandth time, she opened the web browser. “There you go. Just try not to go blind looking at porn,” she added, hoping to break the tension a little.

  “Porn?”

  She took a step back, forgetting he was directly behind her, and froze. “As in pornography. Naked pictures of women. People having sex.”

  “And you’ve seen this?”

  “It’s hard to go many places on the net without coming across it at some point.” She was about to slide to the right when he planted his arm on the counter, hemming her in. “I’ve seen some,” she finally admitted, hoping the right answer would release the biceps barricade between her and the table.

  “Show me.”

  Not caring how close they stood, her gaze darted to meet his. “What?”

  “Show me,” he repeated, the seductive edge to his voice making her blood push faster through her veins.

  Chapter Three

  He jiggled the other end of the chain. “Unless you would prefer to return to your cell?”

  Tricky son of a bitch. She’d watch hippos have sex if it meant delaying her return to the same set of walls she’d been staring at for days.

  “Whatever you say.”

  “I do believe you’re starting to understand, sorceress.” His arrogance thankfully kept her body from overheating at his continued proximity.

  Focusing every brain cell on the laptop, she did as he asked.

  He, on the other hand, seemed oblivious to everything but her. “Why would I go blind?”

  “Huh?” He was making it damn hard to concentrate when she knew his mouth all but brushed her ear when he spoke.

  “You warned me not to go blind looking at porn.�
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  “I was joking. I didn’t mean watching people have sex would make you go blind. More like what you’d be doing while watching.” She stopped there, distracted by the sudden image that popped into her head.

  “Yes?” he pressed.

  Emma cleared her throat. “Human mothers used to say it to their sons so they wouldn’t, you know.”

  “No, I don’t know.”

  He sounded truly baffled, but she wasn’t about to search his face to determine whether or not he was screwing with her. She was distracted enough without another visual confirmation of how close he was to her mouth.

  “Masturbate.” She couldn’t get the word out fast enough. She wasn’t usually uncomfortable talking about sex, but thinking about the gargoyle wrapping his hand around his cock to pleasure himself…

  “Anyway,” she breathed. “There’s lots of other stuff to check out on the Internet. Facebook maybe or Twitter. You Tube.”

  He shook his head, leaned closer. If she turned her face just a little to the left, his lips would be right there.

  Damn it, what was wrong with her? If she didn’t know Cian was a gargoyle, she’d be convinced he was a sorcerer just masking the extent of his tracings. Among her kind, power unconsciously drew others like a moth to a flame, and it would have at least helped explain her intense awareness of every move he made.

  She’d been unconsciously drawn to a powerful sorcerer once, one she had no intentions of getting involved with—ever—but even that paled in comparison to what she was feeling right now.

  “There you go.” She slid the laptop down the counter when an adult website popped up, hoping he’d slide right along with it.

  He reached around her and pushed it back. “Continue.”

  Only in a dream would it have been that easy, she supposed.

  Thinking she’d strap him down and subject him to hours of hippo sex if the tables were ever turned, she entered the site, mentally bracing herself for whatever images appeared.

  Cian leaned in, his chest snug against her back now. God, he was throwing enough body heat to sink right through her leather jacket.

  “So what’s your poison? Standard guy-girl stuff? Oral sex? Girl-on-girl action?” She was almost hoping for the latter to help curb her rising temperature.