Cataclysm (30 page)

Yeah, I’ve still got it like that
, Sinclair thought. She tossed her long mane over her shoulder and followed Drew into his suite.

“Please, make yourself at home.” He pointed her in the direction of a spacious sitting area fit for a king.

She slinked past him, making sure to give her rounded hips a little extra sway. A real woman never called it quits in her endeavor to woo a man until that man was completely under her control. They had the attention span of a child and grew bored easily, so the trick was to always keep them interested.

She looked around the richly decorated room. “Nice digs.”

Drew shrugged and continued filling his dog’s water bowl. “It’s not so bad.” He sat the bowl down and left the kitchen after scratching the dog behind the ear. Then he walked over to the minibar and pulled out two glasses before surveying the liquor supply. “I’m afraid I don’t have any champagne, but I can have room service bring some up if you like.”

Sinclair sat on the plush, leather couch and crossed her legs in an almost catlike movement. She sighed and twirled her hair around a slender finger adorned with a long, polished nail that matched the color of her lips. Dark eyes shifted left and then looked straight at Drew. “I was never much of a champagne girl, anyway. I like my liquor like I like my men: tall, dark, and rich with a handsomely bold flavor to make my taste buds purr.” There was no mistaking the innuendo. Her crimson lips caressed each syllable to demonstrate her point. “Whiskey... on the rocks.”

Drew gave her an amused, albeit flirtatious, grin. “Good choice. I love a woman who knows what she wants.”

She looked him over suggestively. “Oh, I assure you, I know what I want.”

He pulled out a bottle of Maker’s Mark and dropped a few ice cubes inside the matching glasses with a soft clink. He took his time pouring the bourbon. “And what might that be?”

Sinclair thought about her answer. If she told him what she really wanted, he would most likely fall to his knees and start praying to a god she was sure didn’t exist. Lucky for him, telling him the truth wasn’t an option.

Her eyes shifted to the right for the briefest of seconds, her leg bouncing up and down while she tapped her nails on the armrest of the couch. “I want you.”

Drew studied her movements, finding it interesting that although her body language definitely showed signs she was lying, the Ring of Truth did not warm. A half-truth, maybe. She wanted him, but not for the reason she would have him believe. Curious, he decided he would play along until he got to the bottom of the matter.

“Straight to the point, another thing I love in a woman.” He picked up both glasses and walked toward her. “Your room is on this floor?”

“Yes.” She took the glass he offered when he sat next to her, apparently finding its contents more interesting than him. Drew felt the familiar warming against his chest. Finally, her body language and the ring’s mysterious magic were synchronized.

In a bold move that he had not anticipated, Sinclair took his glass and sat it with her own on the coffee table before her. She palmed the inside of his thigh, sliding dangerously close to his crotch. Her hand was chilly from the iced glass she had just held, and it sent a cold shiver all over his body. She leaned in toward him, positioning herself so that her full chest was flush with his. “Why talk when we can do exactly what we both want instead?” And then she kissed him.

Stunned, it took Drew a moment to get with the program, but once he did, it was all systems go. That was until she brazenly cupped him over his pants. He flinched, which only made her more aggressive and, in turn, made him even more aroused. Sinclair was definitely a woman one might refer to as a man-eater. She pulled no punches, played no games. She went right after what she wanted, and it was exactly what he wanted, too.

He had to keep his wits about him, though. There was still the matter of what her intentions were. Well, her intentions were really quite clear, but there was definitely a motive behind them, and that was the missing piece of the puzzle.

Drew slid his hand up her back until he wound it in her hair. He could already tell the type of woman she was, and he knew exactly how she wanted to be handled. Grabbing a fistful, he pulled her hair until she was forced to follow his lead or risk walking around with a bald patch in the back of her head.

She groaned in frustration and tried to tug against his hold, but Drew kept her in check. “If it’s quite all right with you, I very much like to be the one in control.”

Sinclair had a mischievous glint in her eye, still holding firm to the ever-growing bulge in his pants. She set her chin determinedly and looked him square in the eye, all the while stroking him to near-titanium hardness. “Why the cat and mouse, chap? You want to fuck. I want to fuck. So let’s
fuck
.”

Drew chuckled and released his hold on her hair, then grabbed the persistent hand on his crotch and forced her to break contact. “I think you’ll find that we Brits don’t like to be rushed. I fully intend to
fuck
you, as you say, but only under my terms.”

“Terms? What terms?” Sinclair was almost amused that he actually thought he had the upper hand. One spike of potion in his drink would put an end to that notion. She did like to be dominated, however, so maybe she would continue to let her little puppet believe he was in control even when he no longer was.

Drew leaned closer. “First of all, I have no intention of shagging you on the couch. There’s not nearly enough room for me to do all the things I want to do to you. I’ve paid quite a bit for the luxury of an extravagant bed, and I mean to get my money’s worth. And secondly...”

He looked down at her exposed cleavage, seeing for the first time the vial that lay nestled between her breasts. He lifted his hand to caress her bare skin with the tips of his fingers. Sinclair’s head fell back, exposing her neck to him—a sure sign that she was primed to play. He had to keep with the program. He could just call her out on the vial and demand to know what it was, or undress her right then and there before she could hide the evidence, but he knew anything she said would be a lie, and she would disappear before he ever knew her game plan.

“Secondly, I’ve been out in the hot sun all day and would very much like to freshen up before I take you.” He dipped his head and grazed his lips over the point where the round curves of her breasts met. His nose skimmed along her throat until she could feel his breath on her lips. “I assure you, I will be
well
worth the wait.”

His Guardian senses were on keen alert, and things were moving way too fast for him to be able to decipher what that meant. He had to slow her down and give her the opportunity to show her hand. The Light that ran through his blood from generations of Guardians before him seemed to carry echoes of a thousand whispers—whispers that weren’t heard in his head, but rather felt in veins pulsing with its sacred secrets. He had felt it before. It was a sixth sense all seasoned Guardians had—and inner alarm that warned them when something was wrong. But he had never felt it as strongly as he did then.

Was this woman in danger? No, it wasn’t her. Distorted images appeared in his mind’s eye: Colton Grayson’s face, followed by Kerrigan’s, and most prominent was Dominic’s, but his was fading quickly. An overwhelming need to protect squeezed at his chest, and he stiffened, giving himself over to the sensation and letting the Light work its mystical magic.

“Don’t keep me waiting long, lover.” Sinclair’s voice reminded him that the enemy lay in wait right next to him.

She was the enemy. He felt the darkness that surrounded her. It was clawing at his skin, attempting to infiltrate his domain. The voices, the warnings, the faces of those who were in danger all became clear. He was right. She did want him, but not because she desired him. She wanted to use him against his friends.

Why was this woman harboring so much ill will for the Grayson brothers and Kerrigan Cruz?

He suddenly found himself in quite the precarious position. There was a decision that must be made and no time in which to consider his options. Words without a voice formed in his mind: keep your friends close, and your enemies closer.

A person had to be maniacally egocentric to believe they could control a Guardian and get them to use their gift in the very way they were bred to protect against. But to believe herself capable of turning Guardian against Guardian? It was worth playing along just to see how she intended to do it.

That flirtatious smile reappeared. “I won’t be long, pet. Do make yourself comfortable.” He kissed the corner of her mouth and stood, heading for the stairs.

Sinclair watched him disappear and heaved a sigh of relief. For just a moment she thought she had lost her touch, but as usual, she always got her man. She smiled to herself as she mentally patted herself on the back. Men were too easy. Show a little leg, flash some tits, promise them a good time, and they were putty in her more than capable hands.

She perched herself on the edge of the couch and reached between her cleavage to extract the vial she had hidden away there. “Come to Momma,” she said, pulling it out and popping the miniature cork.

Closing her eyes, she inhaled the essence that was all her. Eau de Sinclair. A little bit of this, a little bit of that, plus a single drop of her blood, and—voilà!—anyone who drank it was an instant slave to her, and her alone.

She had only had to use half the contents of one vial on Dominic, but since she wasn’t about to disappoint Drake again, she poured the whole thing into Drew’s drink. Stirring the mixture around with her finger, she cursed under her breath when the ice cubes clanked against the glass sides. She held still, listening for any movement. When she was met with the soft pitter-patter of shower water, she let out a relieved breath. Hovering her hands over the glass, she closed her eyes and chanted the words required to activate the spell. “In your heart I will always be. ‘Tis me you adore, fall to your knee.
My
affection is all that you crave. Drink this potion, become my love slave.”

Drew stood at the top of the stairs, perfectly aware that Sinclair had just put something in his drink. The contents of the vial, he supposed, and judging from the words he overheard her speak, she quite literally meant to make him her love slave.

He ran his hands over his face and treaded lightly on bare feet back into the bathroom. There was no turning back. This was something he had to do: become an ally nestled behind enemy lines. He only hoped it didn’t backfire, or worse—get someone killed.

Drew took off the necklace that held the Ring of Truth and put it inside one of the drawers for safe keeping. He wouldn’t need it. He was perfectly aware that everything his guest did or said would be a lie. No sense in dangling the powerful heirloom in front of her face and tempting her to demand he give it to her. He would have to go along with whatever she said, which meant if she somehow sensed its magic, she would want it for herself, and he would have to comply.

After discarding the rest of his clothes, he hopped into the shower for a quick wash up. Once he was done, he wrapped a towel around his waist and stood before the mirror to contemplate his plan. Perhaps he could distract his frenemy with his body long enough to throw her off the fact that he wasn’t actually drinking the potent concoction that was no doubt bubbling like lava from a volcanic eruption.

He ran his fingers through his wet hair and froze when Sinclair’s reflection appeared in the bathroom mirror. She leaned into the doorframe and stared at his ass with unabashed appreciation.

“I thought you might want your drink.” She held his glass out to him.

Drew looked at the glass through the mirror. At least it wasn’t bubbling as he had expected. Of course, that would have been a dead giveaway, wouldn’t it?

Sinclair had an innocent smile on her face. “That was very considerate of you,” he said, turning to face her.

She crossed the room to where he stood and handed him the glass. “Actually, I just wanted an excuse to peek in on you. I was feeling a little lonely down there all by myself.”

“Wasn’t Akasha keeping you company?”

“Akasha?” she asked. “Oh! That’s your dog’s name?” Drew nodded. “Let’s see... she ate, passed gas, made a couple of very unladylike snorts, and then curled up on the rug to sleep.”

Drew chuckled. “That sounds like her.”

“I’m more interested in you.” Sinclair ran a finger down the center of his bare chest. When she reached the top of the towel, she skimmed just under the edge. “And whatever it is that you’re hiding under this towel.”

Drew stilled her hand. “You’re quite the eager one, aren’t you?”

“Quite. I thought you said you like a woman who knows what she wants.”

“So I did.” Keeping in character, he wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled her into his chest. His lips ghosted over the delicate curve of her neck. “Shall we move into the bedroom?”

“We shall.” She backed out of his embrace, and then lifted her glass into the air. “But first, a toast. Here’s to knowing what you want, and getting it.”

Drew clinked his glass with hers, noting the way she never stopped watching his movements even as she took a hard swallow. He lifted the glass to his mouth and feigned drinking, never letting the laced whiskey seep past his lips.