But Sorcha didn’t take the bait, arching a brow and smiling like she knew something he didn’t.
Whose side was she on, anyway?
“Let’s go,” he growled at Emma.
“We’re on our way out too,” Sorcha added, her grin widening. “Don’t forget your leash though.”
He snapped the other end of the chain up but Emma was already ahead of him. Impatient to get out of there, he didn’t bother to say goodbye.
“You’re welcome,” Kennedy called out as the pair joined them in the hall, but thankfully headed in the opposite direction. “Later, Emma.”
The two laughed and he swore he heard them say something about wondering how long he’d have his head stuffed up his ass.
He hadn’t calmed down much by the time he reached his rooms. He needed to go for a run, or hit something. Anything to defuse the rising upheaval that left him on edge.
Emma said nothing, her face no longer as relaxed as it had been in the den.
Damn it, he would not feel guilty over that. She’d stolen a hundred years of his life and hadn’t shown even an ounce of remorse. Making it all the worse was how easily she’d charmed everyone. First him, then his brothers’ mates—and they’d helped track her down.
If it took him being an ass to make Emma grateful he hadn’t locked her in the cellar for the next millennia, that was fine with him. The angrier he was, the less he wanted to strip her down and trace every inch of her with his tongue—
Emma swiveled around without warning, and he nearly ran over her. She huffed out a breath, but quickly got her bearings—too quickly—and backed up.
Instantly, he recognized the determined glimmer in her eyes, the same he’d glimpsed earlier in the kitchen.
“Was there something you wanted to say?” Or do? Or touch?
She squared her shoulders. “Make up your mind.”
“Excuse me?”
“You need to decide what you plan to do to me.”
“To you?” Angry, aroused or just plain out of his mind, the list was truly endless.
She didn’t back down, not even when he deliberately tried to crowd her, propping one hand on the wall and leaning in until her back came up against it.
“However you plan on getting even, you need to make up your mind.”
“That sounds like an awfully big threat from a rather powerless sorceress.”
She flinched, then her cheeks deepened to a dark pink, as did the tip of her nose. She jerked her hand up. “I won’t always be wearing this, gargoyle.”
“So I should be nice to you, is that it?”
Her chin came up another notch, but she said nothing.
“How nice are you looking for exactly?” He planted his other hand on the opposite side of her. “Nice like I was in the kitchen or very, very nice?”
She slammed her palm into his chest.
He grinned at the aggressive play even as the most primitive parts of him hungered to dominate her in every way. Her scent was driving him crazy. It was all he could do not to tuck his face against her throat and inhale her. The longer they stood so close, the harder he found it to remember anything but the taste of her.
“Whatever it is, just—” her breath hissed out when he couldn’t help himself and ran his thumb from the base of her throat up to her chin, “—get on with it already.” The last few words were only a whisper.
He watched her mouth. “Is there some other place you need to be?” Fascinated with the flutter of her pulse, he opened his mouth over her warm skin.
She closed her eyes and the fingers she planted against his chest curled into his shirt. “It won’t be long before I’m tracked here. Do you think I have no one who cares enough to look for me?”
The cat snarled possessively, but the man only nipped at her. “An army could come and it wouldn’t matter.” He waited until she looked at him to be sure she understood perfectly. “I have no intention of letting you go.”
Chapter Four
“You would risk your family to keep me?”
For all the practice she had at masking her fear—thanks to Elena—the gargoyle’s steel-edged conviction made it hard not to take him seriously. As worried as she’d been over her fate, some small part of her had dared to hope he might willingly release her.
The look on his face, the unwavering blue depths locked on her, told her he meant every word. He really had no intention of releasing her.
“My family can handle themselves.”
She swallowed past the momentary panic clawing at her throat. “So revenge is all that matters to you?” She certainly hadn’t gotten that vibe when she’d touched his belongings and experienced those memories.
“Not all that matters, no.” He dragged his shirt over his head and tossed it behind him.
“Whoa there, Chippendale. Let’s keep this PG rated.”
Unfazed, he moved his hand to the fly of his jeans, drawing her attention down his toned abs—and how had she missed those on the roof?
“Is there a problem?”
Hell yeah, there was a problem. She just couldn’t remember exactly what it was as the button gaped open just a fraction.
Focusing, she went with the obvious. “You just took your shirt off.”
“And yours is next.”
“In your dreams, gargoyle.” She slipped around him, finding it easier to keep a clear head when she wasn’t pinned between him and the wall.
He tugged his zipper down and circled her, pausing behind her long enough to whisper, “In my dreams the only thing covering your body is me.”
Her stomach grew hot at the image that unfolded in her mind. She shook her head to erase it as much to discourage him—as if that were possible—and preferably before the jeans riding low on his hips slid any lower.
Avalon help her, there was no way he was wearing any underwear beneath them.
She needed to stay focused on finding a way out of this mess, preferably with her clothing intact.
Given the way the corners of his mouth tipped up, as if amused by her white-knuckled grip on her shirt, the odds didn’t seem to be in her favor. That fact alone spurred her retreat.
Cian tensed like an animal about to take down its prey, but after a few feet, he still hadn’t moved. How was it that he managed to make her feel like she was being stalked when he hadn’t taken a single step in her direction?
She searched his face, finally understanding the wicked glimmer in his eyes. He was enjoying it. He wanted her to run, wanted to catch her.
Which only forced her to acknowledge that she wanted to be caught.
Caught. Kissed. Touched.
And it was all so damn crazy. She didn’t do one-night stands with men under normal circumstances, let alone with one who was casually eyeing the chain she dragged along the floor like it was part of the trap he couldn’t wait to spring.
“I am not some sex slave.”
When he took a step toward her, she wished she hadn’t said a damn thing.
“You’re right about that,” he drawled innocently, and she scrambled back another step, realizing too late he was herding her toward his bedroom.
“Slaves,” he continued, “need to be coerced in the beginning. You want it. Want me.”
A hint of uncertainty echoed beneath all that slick feline arrogance, surprising her. Distracting her. Otherwise she might have noticed how quickly he closed the distance between them, forcing her to tip her head back to meet his gaze. He towered over her five-foot-four frame, but she didn’t find it as intimidating as she should have given the magic-nulling handcuff locked around her wrist.
Everything about the situation left her at a disadvantage, but she refused to play the submissive female.
He stared at her throat before finally lifting his hand and tracing the soft hollow, then moving on to her collarbone. The teasing brush of his thumb was at odds with the tension she felt radiating from him.
“You didn’t deny that you want me.” His hands slid benea
th her jacket and over her shoulders.
“And give you a reason to prove I was lying?”
He laughed, and the rough sound washed over her. A little dazed by his smile, she was slow to process her jacket sliding down to her arms.
Her eyes snapped open—when the hell had she closed them?—and she stumbled back. He might have been too distracted when she’d been in the shower to realize how few tracings she had, but risking it a second time was a really bad idea. It wouldn’t take him long to realize the cuff would null any ability to mask her tracings.
A tug on her wrist pulled her forward. She immediately retreated, stepping inside the dark bedroom at her back.
Could he see well enough to notice her tracings—or lack thereof—in the dark?
He stopped in the doorway, the light behind him casting his face in shadows. Maybe she’d been a little premature with the whole not-intimidated thing. She managed another step, and he countered with another tug on the chain until she was forced to meet him halfway.
“Cian.”
He stopped, only a foot away now. “Again.” He stepped forward, and her thighs connected with his.
“I don’t—”
“My name. Say it again.”
Her lips parted soundlessly.
“Please.”
Inches separated them. “Cian.”
His palm caressed her jaw, guiding her closer. “Again,” he murmured.
“Ci—”
He slanted his mouth across hers. Soft and hot, the lazy kiss stoked a low fire in her belly. It was impossible not to part her lips and welcome him deeper, sinking into him.
He groaned, nipping at her bottom lip and getting closer.
And then everything shot sideways. She thought it was just in her head until Cian’s arm snapped around her and they went down hard. He took the brunt of the impact when they hit the floor.
Hearing the chain clink somewhere behind her, Emma realized it had tripped them. Catching her breath, she stared down at him, increasingly aware of the way she was sprawled across his chest. Without her jacket providing any kind of buffer, there was no way to deny how good it felt to be tucked against him.
Carefully, he brushed her hair to the side, his fingers sliding through the dark strands.
“Do you have any idea how beautiful you are?”
She shook her head. She’d never considered herself more than average, especially when standing next to her twin. Elena’s natural glow drew men like lambs to the heart-breaking slaughter.
But the way Cian was looking at her…like something from a dream whose details had faded and left only the feeling that she wanted to relive it over and over again.
“After a hundred years, I’m betting you’d find even a blow-up doll beautiful.”
Cian’s mouth fell open. “A child’s toy is meant to explode in this century?”
“No. That’s not…I mean…” She closed her eyes at the feel of his fingers rubbing along her neck. “That’s really distracting, you know.”
He rolled to trap her beneath him, then ran his mouth along the same path. “How about this?”
“I can still string a sentence together.” Barely. Another minute of this and he’d have to peel her off the floor. God, the only thing worse than the gargoyle holding her against her will was how much she was enjoying it.
Avalon help her, she really was worse than an enchantress. “You and I… We need to stop… We can’t do this.”
He opened his mouth over the hollow at the base of her throat. “Can. Most definitely are.”
“So you’d force me?”
“Did I force you to put your arms around my neck, sorceress?”
Her gaze darted to the traitorous hands linked behind his neck. A low growl stopped her from releasing her hold on him entirely.
“And afterward you’ll dispose of me, or maybe keep me chained up here until the next time?” Maybe if she clung to the latter possibility, she would stop aching to feel his mouth on hers again.
“Then we’ll do it again.” He pulled her skin between his lips, sucking softly. “And again.”
Pure carnal heat streamed through her and she arched beneath him. A sexy groan of approval rumbled in his chest. Catching her mouth with his, Cian kissed her long and deep, coaxing a desperate moan from her lips. And desperate was the only way to describe the need crackling under her skin.
“Admit how much you want me, Emma.”
“I think your ego is already big enough, gargoyle.” She planted a hand against his chest, not expecting—or really wanting—him to budge when she gave him a half-hearted push.
He surprised her by rolling to his back again and dragging her with him. He caught her hips, pulling her until she brushed the hard length of him.
They both moaned, and she straddled him, instinctively rocking back until the head of his cock pressed against her.
His fingers dug into her, holding her still. His expression darkened, with pleasure or pain she wasn’t sure. Then he caught the ends of her shirt and jerked it over her head. And Avalon help her, she didn’t even try to stop him.
So beautiful.
Cian let his head drop back to the floor, a little bit dazed by the female hovering over him. Her cheeks were flushed, her lips damp from his mouth, her eyes…for a moment he thought he saw flecks of purple glint in the dim lighting.
He ran his gaze over her shoulders, to the black lace molded to her breasts. Sliding a finger beneath the strap, he tugged her down until his mouth met the sexy curve of her neck.
The cat growled at her tantalizing scent, wanting to leave its mark on her. That alone should have sent him scrambling from beneath her. He’d never been in a hurry to find his mate, focused first on helping Arthur build a strong, peaceful vision of Avalon, and then on finding the daggers that would return their king to them.
But if finding his mate felt half as incredible as he did right now—like he might go out of his mind if he didn’t get another taste of her lips or glimpse her stunning smile— he’d been wrong to prefer his life as it was.
Holding her gaze, Cian tugged the material down until he glimpsed the dark pink tip.
Emma went still, her eyes sliding shut. His own drifted closed as his jaw grazed the curve of her breast and he flicked his tongue across her nipple.
Her breath hitched, and he opened his mouth over the tip, pulling her deep between his lips.
Digging her nails into his shoulders, she cried out, and the sound unleashed a rush of molten lust inside him. He groaned, pulling her closer and knowing it wouldn’t be enough.
Not until she was his.
He cupped her nape, dragging her down to meet his mouth. The sheer rightness that uncoiled inside him as her lips parted for his made him burn even hotter. He’d always assumed being burned alive would be a painful way to go, but the feeling of Emma tunneling her fingers into his hair and moaning against his mouth was more than worth the heat sizzling through his veins.
The kiss moved from drugging to wild, and some place in between as he unsnapped her trousers and pushed them down over her hips.
Her thigh brushed his arousal, and his jaw clenched.
“What’s wrong? Did I hurt you?”
Only in the best way possible. He shook his head, the effort it took to speak coherently with the cat riding him so hard was better spent getting her naked.
“Cian?” When she wiggled on top of him again—trying to get up?—he groaned, and she caught on. And did it again. One deliberate, sexy arch of her spine that made all the right places rub against him.
She nipped his jaw, and he growled. He doubted she even knew what she was doing to him every time she dragged her teeth across his skin. The temptress didn’t leave his mouth until he finally stripped her clothing off, along with the scrap of material fitted to her ass, and pulled her up his body.
Her nipple whispered across his cheek, and he paused long enough to draw her into his mouth, sucking soft and slow.
“P
lease,” she murmured.
He didn’t ask what she wanted, hoping it was the same thing he did. She caught his arm, uncertain, as he tugged her along. Only when her knees straddled his shoulders did he ease his hold on her.
“Wait.”
He didn’t. He curved his hands around her parted thighs and lifted his head for his first full taste of her. Her damp folds parted beneath his tongue, and she cried out. That right there was what he wanted, hungered for. To touch her and feel her tremble all over.
Licking deeper, he inched his mouth higher, laving the slick knot at her center.
“Yes.” She flexed to rub against his lips, her breath hissing out the moment he pulled her into his mouth.
“Cian, don’t…don’t stop.”
Not even if she begged him to. Not until he made it so incredible for her that she’d fall apart. Maybe then he’d be able to slow down for a moment, instead of want to devour every inch of her. No female had ever gotten so deep under his skin, and acknowledging that only made him that much more determined to find out why this one captivated him like no other.
Opening his mouth a little more, he kissed and teased her, slowing only when her thighs squeezed him.
She edged away from him, her moan almost a sob.
Satisfaction curled through him, making him even harder. He wasn’t sure how that was even possible considering the heightened state of arousal he’d been stuck in for the last three days.
With the most decadent revenge in mind, he eased away, kissing her inner thigh and slowly working his way back. So slow every whisper of satiny skin across his lips sent a hot burst of need straight to his cock.
By the gods, he was in trouble. And he wasn’t even inside her yet. Laying a hot, wet path through her folds, he circled the sweet center of her, laving until she cried out.
After rocking gently against his mouth as her climax faded, she slid down, tucking her face against his throat. He used the time to try and get a hold of himself—and gave up before she’d even caught her breath.
Not even the sound of her chain dragging across the floor as he hauled her to her feet could stop him from finishing what they’d starting in the kitchen. She fit too perfectly against his body, his mouth, his heart—
Primal Pleasure: Pendragon Gargoyles, Book 3 Page 5
