Married (33 page)

“I’m not fucking kind, Tulah.” His voice was so raw Adam barely recognized it as his own. “What I just did to you was wrong on so many levels.”

“I wanted you and you gave me pleasure.” Her lips met his, sweetly brushing, giving comfort when Adam knew he didn’t deserve any.

But it was working. Her weight on his chest, her warmth. Her forgiveness reached into the muddied battlefield in his soul and eased the wounds left behind. His hands unclenched from her hips and stroked over her spine in gentle sweeps as he opened his mouth for her kiss, letting her have her way.

“I want to give you pleasure, too, Adam.”

He stared into her eyes and felt the remnants of his anger disintegrate. He took her comfort, accepted it, and gave her the only thing that was truly his to give. “I’ll help you however I can, Tulah. You’ll be free by the time I leave this hotel. I swear it.”

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Georgeanne

Silviu hovered over Madeleine like the specter of death. His skin, already pale, was nearing the shade of bone, and his eyes narrowed until Georgie couldn’t see their color, which was a vast improvement over the chilling anger that turned the silver to molten lead. His hands were rigidly controlled where they gently wrapped around the old woman’s wrist, feeling both Madeleine’s pulse and her weakening magic.

“I’m fine,” the woman muttered.

Georgeanne said nothing, only watched as Silviu’s expression tightened further. He glared at the old woman for a long moment before deigning to respond. “I don’t think you should attempt the Bestowal.”

“We’ve been over this.” Madeleine wrenched her arm from his grasp. “I can’t refuse. Now, leave me. It’s time I got ready for the wedding, and if you two don’t see to yourselves you’ll be late.”

Silviu cocked his brow and waved Georgie from the bedroom without a word. She could feel his frustration beating against her skin, his desire to command and the impotence to do so. Madeleine was the Mother, the Council High Seat. Her word was law, in this matter.

Margaret, Adam and Tulah waited in the attached sitting room. Adam held Tulah’s hand tightly, their shoulders overlapping until not even light could get between them. In spite of their formal evening clothes, both looked ragged, at the end of their limits, exhaustion and defeat laying heavily on their cheekbones and dragging at their lips.

“How is she?” Adam’s voice was scratched and raw.

Georgie shrugged. “Stubborn as ever. She’ll do the Bestowal no matter what it costs her. She’s strong, though, so she’ll probably be fine.”

Adam nodded and swallowed hard enough to send his throat bobbing. His fingers tensed around Tulah’s until the woman winced, but she didn’t pull away. She turned her face into his shoulder, her torso jerking with an uneven breath.

“I need to get Tulah free from the Ngozis, Georgie.” Adam met her stare directly, the blue of his eyes dulled but determined. “I need your help.”

Georgeanne was almost speechless. With a glance at Silviu’s expressionless face, Georgie shook her head and forced gentleness into her tone. “I can only try, Adam. I mean, if Muso is determined to give her to Charles, there isn’t a lot any of us can do about it. He’s Father to them both and can just write the contract himself, without needing another’s input or permission.”

“We can’t let him do that.”

Irritation sparked in her chest and Georgie had to take a moment to shove it back before it spilled out in bitter words. “Adam, we don’t have a lot of options, here.”

“Just marry her yourself,” Margaret suggested.

Georgie gritted her teeth against an explosive denial. They didn’t know Tulah, or what she was after. A few days and a little bit of vague information wasn’t enough to inspire trust or staunch the steam that threatened to leak from Georgie’s ears at the thought of a Davenold-Ngozi union. She turned on Margaret, the sly innocence in her eyes not fooling Georgie in the least.

“I doubt Muso would be willing to draw up a betrothal contract with us,” Adam snapped. “Even if he did, it would take time. She can’t wait that long. No, she leaves the hotel with me.”

Margaret gave a crack of laughter that sliced across Georgie’s nerves like a serrated blade. “Foolish child. You could marry her in the old way, blood to blood and body to body. Such a union would break even a betrothal sealed in blood.”

“What?” Silviu stilled, focusing with predatory intent on Margaret. “What are you talking about?”

“In the old days, witches formed unions with their own blood magic.” Margaret pointed to the bedroom doorway. “Like Madeleine did with her husband, a man our parents didn’t approve of. Romantic, don’t you think?”

Silviu shook his head. “I’ve never heard of such a thing.”

“You really think witches would write something like that down, where anyone could find it?” Margaret smirked. “The knowledge is passed on verbally or intuitively. I’ve heard some witches did it instinctively, and
whoops
, got married for life by accident.”

“Witches already marry for life.” He narrowed his eyes.

“Tradition.” She lifted a shoulder. “A holdover from when blood bonds were the only way witches could marry. Today, we seal betrothal agreements in blood as a nod to our long-ago history, but it’s just a piece of paper. Blood bonds are much more than that.”

Adam drew himself up. “How do I do it?”

Georgie rounded on her cousin. “You can’t marry her after knowing her for less than a week. We will do whatever we can to help her. I will help however I can, but we must also face reality.”

Adam’s jaw worked. “Reality is, I’m not leaving her behind.”

Electricity sizzled over Georgie’s nape. She closed her eyes, struggling against her fear and anger. “Listen, I’m sure Tulah’s very nice—”

“I’ve made my decision, Georgie,” Adam said quietly.

“
I haven’t given permission
.” Georgie was in his face, hissing, before she realized she’d moved. “I know Madeleine hasn’t.”

“Too bad.” Adam took a breath, his eyes begging even as his lips set. “I promised, and—”

“What does she want?” Georgie shifted to rake her gaze over Tulah’s face. “Money? Power? What are you after, Tulah? You have nothing, so it must be something. Tell me what you want, and I’ll get it for you. There’s no need to marry my cousin for it.”

The woman paled, licked her lips. Her voice shook. “You’re right, I seduced Adam so he would help me, but I couldn’t go through with it. I never asked for his help. I just… I want him for as long as he wants me.” She turned her wide eyes up to Adam and even Georgie had to admit she looked sincere. “But you can’t marry me. Georgeanne is right, we barely know each other and I can’t let you—”

“Hush,” Adam ordered as he trailed a finger down Tulah’s cheek. “I’m just keeping all the options open, honey.”

Surprise was a mild word for what Georgie felt. She’d never expected Tulah to agree with her. Most women would leap at the chance to marry Adam—his body, bed skills and power more tempting than Georgie could truly understand—but Tulah seemed genuinely resistant. Constance, for example, would be crying crocodile tears and twisting the situation to her advantage.

Georgie didn’t know what to do, say or believe.

“Georgeanne,” Silviu’s voice commanded her attention, “we should get ready for the wedding. Adam you’ll stay here with Madeleine until I come for you. None of us are to travel alone tonight, understood?”

Silviu held out a hand and Georgie took it without thought, her mind preoccupied with Adam’s insanity. It was only after she’d gathered her things and left Madeleine’s suite that she realized how it would seem to everyone else—that she’d given power to Silviu by obeying his demand. She sighed, knowing she’d soon have to confront her betrothed’s bad habit of subtly ordering her about.

“You can use the shower first,” he said.

“Do you have a tub or a stall?”

Silviu raised a mocking brow. “There’s no time for a soak.”

Georgie shrugged and followed him down the hall to his suite. It didn’t have a sitting room, but it was spacious, with a generous amount of late afternoon sunlight pouring through the wide windows. In spite of the frayed edges of the curtains and bedspread, the room was comfortable and surprisingly welcoming.

Silviu waited until the door had closed before he spoke again. “Tulah would be a good choice for him. She’s stubborn enough to hold her own against the Davenold women, but not so dominant that she’d get in your way. Adam could do worse.”

“That’s not the point. A few days after meeting a woman who admits to trying to use him, to trap him, and he caves?” Georgie hung her dress from a hook on the closet door and shook her head. “Do you have any idea how many women he’s resisted? They all wanted power in my Family.”

“But not Tulah.” Silviu crossed the room and reached for Georgie, tugging her blouse from her waistband as if it were his right to touch her. “She won’t fight for power. She’s moldable.”

Georgie batted at his busy hands and spun away, grabbing her bag of toiletries before stomping toward the bathroom. “Not the point.”

Light filled the space with a flip of the switch. Georgie put her bag on the vanity, adjusted the shower taps and stripped. The water pressure was a thousand times better than her own, and she wondered if Graves had managed to provide the variety based on room size. Or penis possession.

Silviu reached around her and shut off the water. His naked chest heated her spine, his biceps bulged in her peripheral vision. She could feel irritation rolling off him.

She spun on him with a raised brow. “We don’t have time for a soak, but we have time for games?”

“Not games, a long overdue discussion.”

“Right now?” Georgie crossed her arms over her breasts and shot him an incredulous look. “I need a shower.

“We can take one together, later. It saves time.” Silviu shucked off his pants in a single, quick motion. His cock was hard and flushed, jutting out proudly and begging for her admiration.

She eyed his impressive erection. “Let me get this straight. We can’t share a bed, but showers are fine?”

“In the middle of the night, weakness will find me. Right now, I have the strength to take care of you without taking more than you can afford.”

“Uh-huh.” The sexual undertones in his voice didn’t ease Georgie’s doubts or her stretching libido.

“Good, you agree.” Silviu swept her up like a child, cradling her against his chest as he turned and stormed from the bathroom. He laid her down on his bed and swept his hands over her body, shoulders to hips, before turning her over to her belly. His strong hands found the tense muscles to either side of her spine and kneaded. Georgie bit back her surprised protest, and instead surrendered to his touch.

She felt the weight of the world slip from her spine. Worries evaporated and breathing became easier. There was no cold tingle of premonition or suspicion, there was no chilly reminder of the danger surrounding them. There was only hot, hard male, her man whether she chose to admit it or not, slowly rubbing her sensitive skin and doing an amazing job of creating the illusion of safety as he swung his leg over to straddle her waist. She was surrounded by his heat and strength.

Georgie’s body slipped into a languorous place of warmth and pleasure. Her muscles became fluid by the time he stopped. She let Silviu turn her and smoothed her cheek over one well-defined pectoral as he stretched out along her side, throwing his leg over hers. She ran her hands over his back, fitting her body to his.

“Stop holding back on me, Georgeanne.”

She tilted her face up, surprised and willing to show it. “I’m naked in your bed, Silviu. My body is plastered to yours and I’m enjoying your touch. How can you accuse me of holding back?”

“That’s physical, nothing more. I want to know your thoughts, your plans.”

“I plan to get ready for a wedding.” Georgie stiffened, putting an inch of distance between them, unable to push for more against his locked arms and his leg over her waist. “I plan to figure out what the hell is going on around here and I plan—”

“I want you to admit that Graves frightens you.”

A harsh noise escaped from her throat. “I don’t think so. He’s a sadistic bastard, but I’m a mean bitch. There is nothing to fear.”

Silviu shook his head, his eyes dimming with sadness as he opened his expression to her. He was a man who could hide every thought in his head, and yet continuously showed her his deepest emotions. Only her. It only made Georgie more confused. And suspicious.

“He’s using dark magic, my love.”

“Magic can’t hurt me.”

His lips thinned. “It can hurt your Family.”

“Then Graves will die.”

Silviu rolled Georgie beneath him with a violent jerk. The warrior within him was clearly stamped on his face as he snarled down into hers. “Graves is powerful, strong. He’s a scary son of bitch and he’s targeting you through Madeleine.”

“That’s ridiculous. The effigy was obviously meant for her and—”

“He might know you can’t be hurt by magic, Georgeanne. He might be hurting your Family to weaken you, and I want to know if you
are
weakening. I want to know
first
, before you break, while I still have a chance to hold you together.”

“I’m clearly not his real target and I refuse to be afraid of him.” Georgie smacked Silviu’s shoulder for emphasis. “He can’t do a damned thing to me, and if he knows it, all the better. He’s a terrorist, prodding at defenses, looking for the most effective way to cause damage. I can handle myself.”

“But you don’t have to.” Silviu closed his eyes briefly before abruptly switching topics. “I want you to tell me why Adam shouldn’t be with Tulah.”

“And I want you to keep your nose out of my Family’s business.” She clenched her fists against his chest, irritation sparking in her own. Still, she found herself explaining. “Tulah just isn’t enough for him. She’s weak.”

“She’s not. She’s just not you.” Silviu trapped her thighs with his own. “Adam doesn’t want a woman who will fight to be above him. Most men wouldn’t. If he marries a matriarchal witch, that’s what she’ll try to do. Tulah is smart and strong and willing to let Adam lead.”