“Now,” she said firmly.
“You’re sure?” he asked her, concern narrowing his eyes.
“Yes, the sooner we fix this, the better.” She was emphatic. In one of his freaky Vampire moves, he was suddenly right in front of her. He put his hands on either side of her face and tipped her chin upward to look at him.
“We are not trying to fix a broken car, Gabrielle,” he warned again. “This could take time and may not work without a professional’s help.” An indignant protest rose in her throat, but he moved his thumbs over her lips and stopped her words. “We will try, but you will need to have patience, and I know that isn’t one of your fortes.” A faint smile tugged one corner of his mouth. “There will be setbacks. You need to realise that now. Accept your mind’s limitations; what it’s doing is to protect you. Fighting it will only make your recovery more difficult.”
She knew what he said made sense, just as she knew her mouth was set in a stubborn line.
“How about we try it first before we worry about the negatives?” she suggested. She didn’t have weeks and months to get this sorted out, she was going to prove him wrong.
“I have some conditions,” he said. His fingers had slid around to thread into her hair, holding on just tight enough to keep her face tilted up towards his.
Her teeth clenched together in annoyance. “What conditions,” she demanded, though his thumbs, tracing paths up and down her neck, were making it hard to concentrate.
“I set the pace. When I say it’s enough, then it’s enough. No arguments,” he said.
“But—” she began to protest, but he interrupted her.
“No, this is not up for negotiation. If you want me to do this, it’s my rules.” His face was set in intractable lines.
She narrowed her eyes, glaring up at him. “Fine,” she finally agreed sullenly. “Stubborn fucking Vampire.”
The tension left his face, and he allowed a hint of a smile to escape. He caught her lips briefly with his own and then released her.
“Give me five minutes to clear the house,” he said and disappeared at Vampire speed, leaving her alone.
She scowled at the empty room. Then she went back to the bar, going around behind it to investigate what else it held. She had a sudden craving for something stronger than wine. Though alcohol never made her drunk, with some effort she could achieve a state of mellowness. It was enough that she understood why some humans drank it even though they didn’t always appreciate the taste. While she doubted she’d enjoy the sensation of being completely drunk—not being in control of her actions and reflexes terrified her—she occasionally liked the way slight intoxication took the edge off for a short while. She figured that taking the edge off would be a good way to start her therapy.
“Ah ha,” she said with satisfaction as she found a full bottle of excellent quality tequila. There was nothing worse than bad tequila. Poking around in the bar fridge rewarded her with a fresh lemon and a quick trip to the dining room, where Alex had been working, produced a salt shaker. She wondered briefly how long the salt had been in the pot, but decided old salt was better than no salt. On her way back another idea occurred to her, and she knew if she’d had a halo it would have just slipped down to her ankles. It only took her seconds to set up her plan. Back at the bar counter she found a stock of shot glasses and lined six of them up next to each other. She sliced the lemon, cracked open the tequila, and filled the tiny glasses. She’d just picked up the salt shaker when Julius strode back into the room.
“Mexican courage?” he asked, amusement quirking his lips.
“Come over here, and I’ll teach you how to do body shots,” Gabi purred.
He looked a little bemused but came to join her at the bar. He was too tall for her to get to his neck easily, so she hopped up onto the counter next to the tequila shots and pulled him closer, settling him between her thighs. She pushed his shirt aside and licked languorously over the hollow above his collarbone, then she shook a healthy sprinkle of salt over the wet spot and snagged a slice of lemon.
“Hold this,” she said, shoving the lemon rind between his lips. He took the lemon from her fingers with a little nip. His fangs were already more prominent than normal. His eyes had started to darken to midnight. She resisted the need to wrap herself up in him and reached for the first shot. She leant forward and swept her tongue over his smooth skin, lapping up the salt, spreading the taste throughout her mouth. Then she knocked back the shot of tequila, revelling in the familiar burn as it coursed down her throat and into her stomach. He held quite still as she brought her face close to his and bit into the lemon, their lips meeting as she drew the slice from his mouth. Evidence of his arousal pressed against her. With a wicked smile, she pulled his shirt away from the other side of his shoulder and repeated the exercise. She moved onto his wrists and the sensitive inner skin of his elbows after that. As she took the last slice of lemon from his mouth, he groaned.
“I—” His voice came out at an unfamiliar pitch, and he tried again. “I thought we were supposed to be working, not playing.”
“Oh, but we will be working,” Gabi assured him. “Another six of these and I’ll be perfectly ready to start my therapy.”
He closed his eyes and tried to step back from her, but she wrapped her legs around him and locked them together, so he couldn’t move unless he took her with him. She grabbed the tequila bottle and started refilling the shot glasses.
“Another six of those and the only thing I’ll be ready to do is throw you on the nearest table and make you scream,” he said in a low, dangerous voice.
Delicious shivers ran down her spine, and she very nearly gave in. Only one thought kept her from pitiful surrender.
“Hmm,” she murmured speculatively, “a table. That’s a good idea. If you lie on a table, I can lick the salt from more interesting places.”
He groaned. She unlocked her legs and pushed him backwards, giving herself room to hop down from the bar. With an evil glint in her eye, the tequila bottle in one hand and the salt shaker in her back pocket, she kept moving him backwards until the back of his legs collided with one of the hardwood coffee tables. He allowed her to push him down onto it, his hungry eyes never leaving hers. She pushed him flat, setting the bottle on the floor next to them, and straddled his body. She leaned down and gripped the collar of his shirt in her teeth. With a quick jerk she ripped it partly open.
“Oops,” she said completely unapologetically. “Let me fix that.” She finished tearing the shirt apart, then sat back and drank in the sight of his sculpted body. His breathing was becoming hard and fast, and his erection jerked against the constraints of his pants. She pulled the salt shaker from her pocket and started in the hollow between his pecs. Lick, shake, lick, shot straight from the bottle. As the lemon slices were still back on the bar counter, she settled for a taste of him instead, with a quick, deep kiss, then she moved down to the hollow between his abs. Lick, shake, lick; her tongue couldn’t help but wander a little, tracing the furrow down towards his navel. She took another swig from the bottle and went in for another taste of his mouth. As she reluctantly pulled back and looked down at him, she saw his eyes begin to bleed to full gold. She’d pushed him about as far as she was going to get away with.
She wriggled slightly lower on his body. This time as she leant in to stroke her tongue across the skin just above his pants, her hand reached for something he hadn’t noticed in the haze of lust. As the fingers of her one hand slipped into his pants, the other brought up the glass full of ice from under the table. The contents of the glass slipped inside his pants an instant before he realised her intentions. She threw herself sideways onto a sofa as he yelled in surprise and rocketed upright, shock and outrage on his face. He danced on one leg, trying to shake the ice down his pants leg, and Gabi was hard-pressed not to laugh out loud. When he eventually stopped jumping around and turned on her, disbelief and confusion outweighed anger.
“That, my dear Jules, “she d
rawled, “is what you get for setting me up with bodyguards without consulting me.” She hopped up, grabbing the half-empty bottle of tequila off the floor, and poured another shot into her mouth. “And now, I’m ready to do some work.”
“You vicious little she-devil,” he growled.
She simply smirked.
Julius started by securely tying strips of black satin to her wrists, leaving long strips hanging loose. When she demanded to know what he usually used them for, he only smiled enigmatically. He seated her on the same table she’d just used to exact her revenge. Then he blindfolded her. The blindfold combined with the feeling of something binding her wrists had been enough to accelerate her heartbeat and send a spike of adrenaline surging through her. Julius calmly talked her through the fear. Irrational irritation at his patient, even-tempered tone fired her annoyance enough to banish the initial panic. Only when her vitals were back to normal did Julius take the therapy a step further. Without actually touching her, he put pressure on the ties, gently pulling the loose ends down towards the table. It took long minutes, but eventually she was calm enough to satisfy him. She’d resorted to meditation. One good thing had come from her stint in Danté’s dungeon; she now found it much easier to slip into a calm, meditative state. It was something she’d almost given up trying to master.
The next step was for her to lie back on the table with her hands raised above her head. This wasn’t as bad as she expected, and she achieved her state of calm in moments, feeling triumphant. Then Julius gripped the strips of material again, using just enough pressure that she no longer felt free. The surge in her heart rate and breathing was immense. The unreasonable panic clawed at her, her subconscious screaming in illogical terror. The need to pull and yank and fight and shriek was overpowering. She pulled strength from Julius’s calm voice this time. She dragged spirit from a well deep inside herself. It took every ounce of self-control she possessed to lie unmoving, to not struggle and rip free. Julius slackened the pressure after what felt like hours, giving her time to collect herself. Then they tried it again. And again. Half an hour later, the sweat was running freely down her face, mingling with the unheeded tears. She’d made it to four minutes; the first effort had only been twenty seconds. Julius removed the blindfold and told her they were done for the night. She argued with him, of course. She ranted and resorted to childish name-calling, but he was as immovable as the Andes.
He pulled her to her feet and carefully untied the wrist bindings. He wiped the sweat and tears from her face with the tattered remains of his shirt. Then he kissed her into silence.
“Now,” he purred, as her tirade finally abated, “I believe we hadn’t finished exploring the game of body shots yet. I think it may be time to see if I can regain my taste for tequila. Though I sincerely hope it tastes better than the last time I tried it.” The distaste in his expression told her he’d only tried bad tequila. This new challenge piqued her interest enough to give up on more therapy tonight and allow him to lead her to his bedroom with another bottle of tequila and the salt shaker.
Turned out he still couldn’t taste the tequila, but that didn’t stop him from licking almost every square inch of her body. When it was Gabi’s turn with the tequila again, she filled her mouth with the fiery liquor before sliding her mouth over the tip of his cock. As she swirled the liquid around the sensitive tip, his body jerked in reaction to the intense pleasure. A stifled groan broke deep in his throat.
“Enough torture, she-devil,” he growled, panting. She finally swallowed the liquid and released him. She rolled over to set the bottle on the floor next to the bed, and he pounced, holding her in place on her stomach as he nipped and licked his way down her spine. When he lifted her hips and nudged her thighs apart, she was more than ready for him. His cock drove into her, quick powerful thrusts, burying himself deep and compelling her to meet his urgent rhythm. The tingle of his power stroked her all over, reaching sensitive places his hands and mouth couldn’t, and just as she felt the surge of climax, he leaned his head down, nuzzling into the side of her neck and sank his fangs into the tender flesh just below her right ear. Her world exploded as the orgasm rocked her, spasms of pleasure obliterating all thought.
He didn’t allow her time to recover, pushing her harder and faster, wringing inarticulate cries from her. Two orgasms later she felt him go with her, his mouth unclamped from her neck as he surged one last time, holding her still as he came inside her. His breathing was ragged as he leant down to lick the puncture wounds on her neck. He left a trail of light kisses down her back as she collapsed to the bed.
He rolled onto the bed next to her and pulled her onto her side, against his chest. Moments later, sleep claimed her.
It was still dark when consciousness returned, but something told her it was daytime. Possibly it was the feeling that she hadn’t had nearly enough sleep combined with the knowledge that she fell asleep not long before dawn. A soft shushing against the window indicated the arrival of the rain the weather people had been promising for weeks. She lay and enjoyed the gentle sound and the feeling of Julius’s chest pressed close against her back. It would be so nice to just close her eyes and drift back to sleep for another couple of hours. But she knew better. There were too many strange things going on. She wanted to help Byron figure out who’d taken the rogue Werewolf, and she needed to go and relieve Russell of his duty as squirrel mommy. She blew out a resigned breath, untangled Julius’s arm from around her waist, and dragged herself out of the warm nest of sheets and blankets. As she made her way to the bathroom, she was relieved to notice that most of her clothing had made it to the bedroom; she wouldn’t have to go out into the rest of the house in a robe and collect vital bits under the watchful gazes of the housekeepers.
After a quick shower, and leaving a kiss on Julius’s luscious but unresponsive lips, she slipped out the door and made her way, yawning, to the entertainment room. Nex, her jacket, her phone and her boots were waiting for her in a neat pile on the coffee table, but what really drew her attention was the heavenly smell of fresh brewing coffee. She frowned in consternation and followed her nose. On the far side of the bar counter was a door she’d never seen open before. She’d assumed it was a closet of some kind, but further inspection revealed it to be a reasonable-size kitchenette. It wasn’t big enough to be the main kitchen for the mansion, it seemed to serve as a catering area for the entertainment room, which, considering the BBQ on the outside patio, made sense if humans were living in the mansion. Standing on the counter in the kitchen was a brand new coffee-maker and a small assortment of mugs. The largest mug had a picture of a cute, fluffy kitten on the outside and a single red rose standing inside it.
A reluctant smile tugged the corner of her mouth, and an unfamiliar emotion wound through her chest and squeezed her heart. She examined the emotion as she opened a cupboard above the coffee-maker and found sugar cubes, an assortment of coffee blends, a barrel of choc-chip cookies and a note saying that milk and cream were in the bar fridge. It was a strange kind of buzz, to realise he cared enough to worry about the small things that made her happy as much as the big things. It had given her a glorious ache in her chest when she found out how he’d given his own blood to save Razor, as the cat lay dying in her garden. Julius had known, even then, when her abduction must have been the prime concern in his mind, that saving Razor would mean the most to her.
Then another thought occurred to her. Did the introduction of the coffee-maker mean he expected her to be spending the night at the mansion more often than not? The tender emotions vanished in an instant. She still had her own house. Her home, the place with her pets and her own things around her. She poured coffee into the large mug with the kitten motif, having moved the rose to another mug which she filled with water. She tried to tamp down the feeling of annoyance, telling herself that she was probably jumping to conclusions. It would be nice to have the option of coffee for the nights she did spend here. As she added sugar and went back to the bar to get
the cream, she realised that she could meet his presumption with some of her own. She sipped the fresh, hot java and made a note on her phone to call someone to have sun-blocking blinds fitted to her house. A satisfied smile quirked her mouth as she pulled up a bar stool and dug into the barrel of cookies.
It was pushing midday as she entered HQ. Rocky was fed and snuggled in her pouch inside Gabi’s pocket. Russell didn’t think the baby squirrel needed round-the-clock feeding anymore. He’d been able to introduce her to solids with ease, but Gabi hadn’t had time to make a trip to her house. She’d settled for a call to Rose to tell her she was working and check that everything was all right. Razor was being obnoxious about her absence, but that was nothing unexpected. Gabi shook the rain droplets from her hair and nodded a greeting to the Werewolf standing watch at the door. A swipe card was needed to get into the building, and a camera recorded all the entranceways, so there wasn’t usually a need for a guard on the doors. Gabi couldn’t blame Byron for the added security measures after last night’s events.
“Miss Bradford,” the guard greeted her, “I was asked to tell you that the rest of them are meeting in conference room two if you care to join them.”
“Thanks,” she replied, heading directly for the elevator.
The door to the conference room was closed, so she slipped inside quietly. There were more people inside than she expected. Kyle sat off to one side, watching the melee unfolding at the main table. Byron was pacing on the far side of the table. Hazel, Byron’s secretary, was seated in a chair, faced by Margaret, the venerable Shape-shifter elder, and Irene. It was clear by the redness around Hazel’s eyes and nose that she’d been crying. Alistair and Lance were also present and seated at the table. No one looked anything but deadly serious. Alistair, Kyle and Byron noticed her entrance, but the rest were focused on Hazel. Byron looked weary, almost haggard. Concern roiled in Gabi’s stomach. She raised an eyebrow in question, not wanting to disturb proceedings. Byron looked at Kyle and gave him a nod towards Gabi and the door. Kyle nodded back in understanding and rose. He ushered Gabi back out the door and into the corridor.
All Hell Breaks Loose Page 16
