Soul Enslaved (Sons of Wrath Book 3) (23 page)

With parted lips, he brushed her cheek, noting the lift of her chin, not in protest, but as though she welcomed whatever havoc Gavin planned to wreak next.
Now
. He dipped his head and pressed his lips to hers.

Soft. Sweet. The taste flooded his mouth like candy dissolving on his tongue. A flavor he’d never had before but unknowingly craved.

Her arms snaked around his neck, and he pushed forward until she hit the wall.

Passion poured from her mouth into Gavin’s, as if he’d been starved and she held every bit of what his body needed to survive. He hiked her leg up onto his hip, keeping her snug against the wall, and gripped her chin with his free hand.

Lost. Violent. Greedy. He’d never wanted something so badly in his life. Still, his beast remained in check.

Had he been wrong? Perhaps the curse didn’t exist. Maybe Jessica had been nothing more than a nightmare.

But what about Cherie? He’d sensed the wild and unpredictable second nature rising to the fore when she’d toyed with him back in his office.

Forget Cherie
, his mind protested.

Moans vibrated in their throats as their exhaled breaths collided. Gavin ground his hips against hers, fucking her in his mind as he assaulted her lips. So badly, he needed to tear away her clothes—the only scraps of protection keeping her from what his body yearned for. Her muscled thigh tightened against his palm, and Gavin imagined them wrapped around his back as he drove into her. The chime of her sexy moan in his ear only coaxed him toward the dark sensual fantasies, wherein Sabelle lay helpless, tied to his bed, writhing in agonizing pleasure.

A push against his chest broke the kiss, and Sabelle gasped for breath. “Jesus … you’re like … trying to suck the life right outta me.”

Blood charged through his veins, each swish beating a steady drum in his head. A chant.
Take her. Take her. Take her.

Gavin had never taken anything from a woman that way.

Yet, he needed to rip her clothes off, to feel her skin against his. Clutching both sides of her face, he pushed his kiss deeper, his tongue exploring, tasting, savoring her.

“Gavin,” she said against his lips, and pressure returned to his chest. “We have to stop.”

He truly felt like he
could
stop—Gavin just didn’t
want
to stop. What was it about Sabelle that allowed him to remain in control?

Her eyes met his, and he kicked back a step—they’d taken a red haze.

A warning.

Succubus
. As much as Sabelle acted like an innocent human, she carried power. Right then, he wondered exactly how much power, because for two days, he’d been chained to the idea that he’d never be himself around a female again. Suddenly, he possessed the restraint to hold the beast back.

An observation that made him want Sabelle even more than he could admit to himself.

Fuck.

Gavin released her thigh, setting her back down on the floor, and blew out a breath of frustration. He backed up another step, allowing the heat to dissolve into the cold distance between them.

She ran her hand through her hair. More paint. Only Gavin couldn’t laugh.

His mind scrambled for reasons why she was right. His dick battled every excuse he’d come up with.

She’s a succubus.

So what, the sex would be hot.

She’s powerful.

So what, the sex would be hot.

She’s a slaver.

So what, the sex would be hot.

One track mind.

Ghostly sensations lingered where her hands had touched his skin. He needed a different train of thought. Something that could smother the cock-dance happening in his briefs. No matter that he felt relatively civil, there was still something below the surface. A hunger. One he didn’t entirely trust. If he truly
had
been cursed, he couldn’t afford to trust it. One more slip up, and he could find himself fucked in the worst way, so, as mind-blowing as her kiss had been, Gavin had to keep tight to the reins of his desires.

Still, the development was a curiosity he couldn’t ignore. Even if temporary, it gave him hope that a loophole for the curse might very well exist. No sense tripping his boundaries before he could discover the secret to keeping his soul from Jessica.

One consistency he’d noted, though, was that it seemed to be worse at night—particularly as he dreamed—and specifically of Sabelle. Twice in the middle of the night, Gavin had awakened from an erotic dream of those lush curves dancing atop the table, as she had back at
Mel’s
bar. In an effort to keep from attacking her, he’d stumbled his way to the shower and taken care of his urges there.

The intensity happened to be what kept Gavin on edge, though. Never in his life had he felt out of control. Of anything. It was nice to sample a taste of Sabelle without completely losing his head.

He nodded at another hung painting. In it, a couple sat at a small café table by the water, lights and lanterns glowing against the soft white beams of the moon. So very tranquil, almost like a Van Gogh. “What’s that one?” His voice croaked like a teenage boy who’d just seen pussy for the first time.

“A dream.” A slight smile danced across her face. “It’s how I imagine a French café and the romantic evenings. I look at it and I can almost hear the music and feel the cool breeze off the water.”

“It’s very beautiful.”

“I got a bottle of wine I’ve been waiting to crack,” she said, turning back. “Wanna share it?”

Gavin drew in a deep breath. “Absofuckinglutely.”

***

The savory scent of spiced meat filled the small kitchen while Otis Redding played, as Gavin fried meatballs in a pan. Sabelle sat on the countertop, sipping wine from one of only two wine glasses she owned. Flecks of paint still clung to their skin, but for the most part, they’d cleaned it off.

The air between them had changed, morphed into something that, had she struck a flint, might’ve exploded into raging lust and ravishment. The male taunted the very fine thread of restraint that’d always kept her out of trouble. His lips had answered the one question she’d wondered for two nights—had the look in his eyes he’d shot her at the bar his first night with her been of that of want, or a misinterpretation on her part?

One thing had always been certain for Sabelle—for a succubus, she truly sucked at reading men.

“Smells good.” She took another sip; she’d already polished half the bottle, and it’d begun to show in the heat burning her cheeks and the slight slur of her words. “Let me get this straight. You cook. But you don’t eat.”

Gavin glanced back with a grin. “You walk the earth for centuries, you pick shit up along the way. Besides, I did say we eat for taste.” He speared a meatball on a fork and held it up to Sabelle.

Smiling, she opened her mouth and bit down into half of it, rolling her eyes back at the delicious flavor flooding her mouth. “Oh, my gods. You’re like … a
master
of meatballs.”

He smirked. “Master of meatballs. That’s a new one.”

“Try it.” Her hand covered his, and she directed the fork back toward his mouth. Gavin dodged and smiled, and tipping her head, she laughed, catching on to his antics. “What’d you do, poison it?”

“Yeah. It’s coated in Shine. I’m shining balls for a living now.”

A burst of laughter beat through Sabelle’s chest, and she covered her mouth to keep from spraying wine. Fork held in the air, she directed the bite toward Gavin’s mouth. “Eat the meatball.”

“I don’t think so.”

Her muscles trembled as he easily captured her arm in his grip and held off her proffered food. “I will not …” Sabelle’s laughter broke her words. “… eat another … one of your
balls
… until you eat … the rest of this.”

“My balls?” Gavin laughed back. “As I recall, you haven’t come close to eating my balls.”

She hopped onto the floor and stepped toward him, fork in hand, but Gavin grabbed hold of her wrists, pushing her back against the counter. Lifting her captured hand, he bit the meat from the fork, his body pressed against hers.

Holy hell, the man ate food in a way that had a woman wondering just how much a strong jaw played in activities like, say, suckling. A sharp pain struck her bottom lip, and Sabelle realized she’d chewed it a little too hard.

These Arms of Mine
clicked on into the gathering quiet.

“Dance with me?” Her question came as a whisper, and at her request, Gavin drew her into his body, setting the fork on the countertop.

Nimble fingertips brushed her back, just a wisp of touch at first, until he pressed into the small dip of her spine, fully committing to the embrace.

Both of them swayed to the music. Sabelle closed her eyes, wrapping her arms around Gavin’s neck. Damn, it felt so good to have something solid in her arms. His arms around her just felt right, too, as she rested her head against his shoulder.

Once. Just once, she wanted to believe something so strong and beautiful
could
belong to her. Admitting that she needed a man, though, went against all her natural instincts and yet, denying that she needed one just felt like a damn lie.

That scent, Gavin’s masculine aroma, filled her senses like a drug, and she gripped his nape, her fingers hitting his hairline with an urge to tangle within his hair. Her other hand drifted down to his back, the broad span of his shoulders, evident even through his shirt, passing beneath her fingertips as she skimmed down to his narrow waist.

Reaching behind, he entwined his fingers in hers, raising their laced hands where she could see them. His long, perfectly manicured, but strong fingers swallowed her much smaller palm. Warmth simmered in her bones at the sight, the feel of being small and comparably vulnerable to him.

Sabelle lifted her head, but froze as what she could only surmise as sheer lust stared back at her. Gavin leaned forward, hesitating once before his lips feathered hers. A tickle fluttering in her chest and shooting down to her stomach in an explosion of excitement. Her thighs clenched. Skin burned in all the places it touched his.

Another brush, that one longer, as he explored her lips with the very tip of his tongue. Her eyes flickered shut as he kissed her again.

“I forgot to tell you something,” he whispered at her ear before nipping her lobe with this teeth. “How completely edible you looked in that shirt with paint spattered all over it.”

“Here, I thought you preferred your women in Versace dresses and Manolos.”

“I’d feel like shit ripping a Versace dress off a woman.” Arms wrapped around her waist and hefted Sabelle up onto the countertop. “But you … I want to tear them off of you, slowly. I want to expose your body one small piece at a time and savor its perfection.” He gripped either side of her face and led her to his lips. “So beautiful.”

“You’ve done too much time in prison. Forgotten what beauty looks like. I think you’d fuck a hole in a tree.” She giggled at herself.
So crude.

His smile against her lips left her puckering for another kiss. “Maybe. Surely, you’re a better lay than that.” He snickered as she punched his shoulder. “Not big on compliments, are you?”

Gods, her stomach flipped, and she sucked in a sharp inhale as his mouth found that sweet spot where the neck meets the shoulders. “I guess not.”

“Why is that?”

She shuddered at his tongue tracing her collarbone. “I honestly don’t know why you’d think I was beautiful. I’ve seen the women draped across your arm. So elegant and … they look like models … and they probably know their designers and the difference between their wines. I’m just a … a mom. A mom who wears paint-spattered shirts and drinks wine from a box sometimes. I’m ghetto. Broke.” If he continued kissing her neck, she could very well add ‘fucked’ to that list, too. “Nothing.”

“You’re rich in more ways than you even know, Sabelle.”

“I’m not what you think, Gavin.” Her finger mindlessly rubbed his nape, and she smiled when he shivered in her grasp. “I’m not an … expert with men.”

The meat sizzled and popped on the stove, like a
pow
to her self-doubt.

“You don’t have to be an expert to
accept
pleasure.”

The very word sent a chill down Sabelle’s spine. Or it could’ve been the way he said it.
Pleasure.
She wanted to echo the word aloud. Try it out on her tongue and see if it cast the same chill it had when he’d said it.

His lips disconnected from her skin, and his face came into view as Sabelle tipped her head forward. Damn the perfection staring back at her. The trail of his gaze from her eyes to her mouth left her yearning for another kiss.

“You think I’m bullshitting you when I call you beautiful?” he asked.

“I just wonder what your motives are.”

His mouth curved into a half-smirk, before he leaned into her ear. “Sabelle,” he whispered, “if I say you’re beautiful, I mean it. No bullshit. And if I were trying to get you into bed, you’d be in bed right now. I may fuck women, but I’d never fuck
with
a woman.” Releasing her, he kissed the top of her hand and returned to his cooking.

“Hey. I didn’t mean … I didn’t mean anything by it.” Christ, she wanted to spin him around and kiss the shit out of him. Back up to that glorious moment when she’d been in absolute heaven.
Way to ruin the moment, Sabelle
.

Gavin kept his back turned. “Sabelle, I’m going to need you to do something for me tonight.”

“Clean up the horrendous mess you’re making?” She belted out a laugh in hopes of reviving their playful banter. “You’re a good cook but kind of a crappy housekeeper. Just sayin’.” Alcohol had definitely kicked in.

A quick glance over his shoulder revealed a grin. “No.” He cleared his throat. “I’m going to need you to chain me to the bed.”

Sabelle blinked, trying to comprehend what the hell he’d just said. “Come again?”

CHAPTER 8

Sabelle clutched the doorframe, eyes riveted on the demon strapped to her bed, raging and thrashing in his sleep. The bellowing of her name had awakened her from dreams, and she’d shot out of bed to find him kicking and grunting like something out of
The Exorcist
. Fear gripped her heart, as she watched his sufferance—as well as an urgency to go to him, to soothe and calm him.