Wicked Enchantment (24 page)

She raised an eyebrow. “And the other two pieces of the
bosca fadbh
? They’re in the human world, unattainable.”

“Never say never, sweetness. Never give up hope.”

Biting her tongue against lashing out at him for the ‘sweetness,’ she let her hand, propped on the armrest of her chair, swing wide. “How does this help us defeat the Shadow King?”

“It doesn’t. Not in the short term, anyway. Once the Shadow King sees the book and opens it up, he’ll know what it is and there will be no getting it back.”

“The spell I need to call souls is in the book. I know because I called my father once with it.”

“Do you remember the words you spoke?”

She bit her lower lip and concentrated, dredging up a memory that seemed like it had happened years ago. “Not all of them. I didn’t know what I was saying the first time or that the words were important.”

He walked to her. His long feet were bare and sank into the plush, deep, cream-colored carpeting covering the floor. “You don’t need any spells to help you. If you’re a true necromancer, the power to call souls is within you, inherent. You only need to tap into it. It’s written into your DNA.”

She must have looked doubtful because he leaned over her in the same way he’d done in the kitchen—hands on the armrests on either side of her. It should have made her feel pinned, trapped, but it only made her feel safe. Still, she backed up against the cushion behind her in an effort to get some distance. She couldn’t help her attraction to him, but she could fight it tooth and claw.

“It’s inside you, just like the power of the Wild Hunt is inside me,” he said, staring hard at her as though his gaze alone could instill the belief into her head. “Can’t you feel them talking to you sometimes? Murmuring in your head? Can’t you sense the lost ones out there calling for you—for anyone—to pay attention to them? I may not be a necromancer. I may only be Lord of the Wild Hunt, but I can hear them. I can sense them. You must be able to feel them, too.”

He spoke with such passion. Clearly he loved being Lord of the Wild Hunt. She never would have guessed he loved anything more than women and sex. He put on the façade of jaded courtier so well that he’d never given her a hint of the man who lay beneath the shallow pretense. There was much more to Gabriel than what he displayed.

And that made him even more deadly attractive to her.

She cleared her throat and schooled her expression—not to mention the beating of her heart. “I can feel them.”

“Good. That’s the seed. It’s already planted and, I’m sure, already budding. Now all we have to do is follow the stem and make it blossom.”

He was looking at her lips again. He was also making birds and bees references. Her gaze found his lips. This was not going to work.

“Turn off the charm,” she whispered, gripping the armrests.

“What?”

“Turn off whatever magick you use on women to make them sexually drawn to you.”

His luscious lips curved in a cocky smile. Yes,
there
was the arrogance. “That’s not how it works, Aislinn, and you know it. You’re just looking for things to blame your attraction on.”

He dipped his head before she could respond and caught her lips against his. She jerked back, but he followed her, pressing her head back against the cushion and slanting his mouth over hers with a groan in his throat. That groan made her think of naked bodies and silky skin, made her think of twisted sheets and fusing bodies. It made her wonder what it would be like if he kneed her thighs apart and slid his cock inside her. To what heights could a man like Gabriel take her in bed? A man like him, for whom sex was like breathing and with whom erotic promise was almost certainly fulfilled?

“Give it up. Stop fighting so hard,” he whispered against her lips. “Give it up to me. Just
givein
to me, Aislinn.” He nipped her lower lip and she shuddered with lust.

“Gabriel.” She’d meant his name to come out strong and clear, meant for it to act as a warning and make him stop. Because she wasn’t sure she could make him stop—wasn’t sure she wanted him to stop. His name came out breathy instead.

He yanked her up in one smooth movement, flush against him. The breath hissed out of her and she knew she was well and truly lost to him. One more kiss and she’d be his. He dropped his head and rubbed his mouth over hers as though savoring the taste of her lips.

It sealed the deal.

Her nipples stabbed through the material of her sweater and her breathing began to quicken. She’d come so close to death in the dungeons of the Black Tower and now she tasted life—vibrant and erotic—on Gabriel’s lips. He could make her feel flush with blood and vitality and chase away the death that had clung to her for the last week.

She went up on her toes and pushed her mouth against his, spearing her tongue into the hot recesses of his mouth. Pulling back a little she murmured, “Yes,” against his lips.

He groaned in the back of his throat and picked her up. She wrapped her legs around his waist and kissed him as he carried her through the living room and into the bedroom. Dropping her gently, she fell into the tangle of sheets and blankets on the bed. He stood over her, looking down at her like she was the most gorgeous woman he’d ever laid eyes on—like she was the only one in the entire universe he wanted to make love to.

For now, she’d believe the lie. Right now she needed to believe it.

“Take your sweater off,” he said.

She slipped it over her head and tossed it aside. Wearing no bra, her nipples tightened from the combination of cool air in the room and his hot, roving gaze. She leaned back against the pillows, her heart thudding.

Slowly, his gaze locked with hers, he unhooked the button of his pants, undid the zipper, and slid them over his hips. His cock was hard, long and wide and as beautiful as the rest of him—broad shoulders melting into a muscled expanse of chest leading to narrow hips and strong legs.

Taking a couple of steps forward, he came over to her and slid her pants and socks down and off, leaving her bare from the waist down. Sliding his hand over her outer thigh and up her hip, he held her gaze. Everything he wanted to do to her seemed to dwell in his eyes. Then he lowered his head to her breasts, licking and sucking at each hardened peak until she squirmed beneath him, her back arching.

His hand dipped between her thighs and stroked her softly until a small moan escaped her throat and she sank her teeth into her lower lip. His cock pressed into her thigh as he used his thumb to pet her clit, making it plump and pulse with need. Sliding two fingers deep within her sex, he thrust in and out just the way she wanted his cock, all the while either sucking one or the other of her nipples into his mouth or whispering sweet, dirty things to her.

“Gabriel, please,” she whispered, her fingers tangling his hair and roving over all the skin he allowed her to touch. Not his cock; he angled away every time she got close.

He held her fast on a threshold of pleasure. Sexual need dominated her body and her mind, overriding all else. He could push her over the edge, give her the climax she craved, but he never gave in. It was like torture.

“Tell me you want to come, Aislinn. Tell me you want me to fuck you.”

Danu,
she’d say anything at this point. “I want to come. Gabriel, yes, please fuck me.”

The fingers deep inside her unerringly found her G-spot and stroked it. At the same time, he rubbed her clit with his thumb, steady pressure that was just right. She came. Her climax washed over her like a tidal wave, stealing her thought, her words, even her breath. She gasped and her back arched, body shaking in gentle convulsions of absolute pleasure. The muscles of her sex pulsed around his still-pistoning fingers.

Just as the waves of her orgasm began to ebb away, he moved between her legs. With strong hands, he pushed her thighs apart and held them down, then lowered his mouth to her. She jerked in surprise at his sudden movement, but he held her fast, sucking her climax-sensitive clit between his lips. Slowly, softly, he coaxed her past that uncomfortable postorgasm point and into pleasure again.

He groaned and closed his eyes as though she was the sweetest thing he’d ever tasted and all her muscles relaxed. She melted back on the pillows, watching him. The erotic sight of his dark head between her thighs was almost enough to make her come again, but what he did next made it a certainty. He tongued and licked her very sensitive bundle of nerves until her climax ignited once more. Pleasure ripped through her body anew and she bucked against his wickedly skillful mouth in a second orgasm.

By the time he was through she lay boneless on the bed, sated beyond her imaginings. He leaned over her and kissed her deeply. She could taste only the faintest trace of herself on his tongue. She twined her arms around him and tried to pull him down on her. She wanted to feel him inside her, wanted to return the favor of the pleasure.

“No,” he whispered against her lips. “Not yet, Aislinn. We have time for that later.” He kissed her forehead. “You’d be surprised how healing a good orgasm can be. Sleep now.”

Riding the gentle waves of utter sexual fulfillment, she did just that.

 

 

GABRIEL
stared down at Aislinn, who slumbered beautiful and naked in a tangle of bedclothes. His gaze traveled for the millionth time over the creamy skin of her hip and stomach and the spread of her hair on the pillow. He’d spent most of the day next to her, just watching her while she rested.

She needed that rest. The iron sickness still weighed heavily on her, even more heavily than it had affected him. It was in her eyes and the way she moved. She needed sleep, good food, and lots of fluids for a couple of days so she could regain her strength.

In his opinion, she needed what he’d given her, too, needed that sexual release and the heavy, sated exhaustion that had come in its aftermath. His cock was still hard from giving it to her. She’d melted in his hands, given in so sweetly to the pleasure he’d offered and taken it so hungrily.

He wanted to give her more.

She shifted in her sleep and a tendril of her silver blond hair curled around a hard, rosy nipple. Gabriel reached out and brushed it away, dragging his finger slowly over that lovely peak and feeling every one of its hills and valleys. She moaned in her sleep and shifted, her legs parting so that he could glimpse the pout of her clit nestled in the silvery curls.

He couldn’t taste her on his tongue anymore and he missed her flavor, so hot and sweet. It was easily addictive. His fingers curled as he fought the desire to stroke that small, pouting bud, and he wondered how hot and bothered he could make her in her sleep. She was gorgeous all of the time, but when she was aroused . . . then she became irresistible. Would she wake up moaning for him, spreading her thighs so he could sink his cock deep into her heat?

Placing his hand to the inside of her knee, he slowly moved upward. As he suspected, she opened like a flower for the sun. Unable to resist, he dragged his fingers over her heated sex, exploring her damp softness.

Before he did something he would regret—like wake her from the deep healing sleep she needed so badly—he rolled away from her, stood, and rubbed his hand over his face. Gazing back at her, he wrapped his hand around his aching cock and stroked from base to tip. He tipped his head back on a groan of frustration. She would be his in every sense of the word. He just needed to be patient. Aislinn didn’t know it yet, but he planned to act out with her every one of the erotic acts that crowded his mind.

Once she was healed, she wouldn’t know what hit her. Every free moment they had he planned to spend making her scream and moan with pleasure.

Oh, and one other thing—he wanted her heart, too.

Every inch of Aislinn Christiana Guinevere Finvarra, from her pretty little toes to the top of her gorgeous head, would be his by the time he was through.

And no one was taking her away from him.

 

 

 

 

AISLINN
woke and stretched, becoming immediately aware of the fact she was naked. A lingering arousal clung to her body even through the fatigue of waking from a deep sleep. That may have been the deepest and best sleep she’d ever had. The faint arousal made her feel like a warm kitten, cozy in its bed.

Then she remembered all that had happened in the past week.

Suddenly chilly, she rose, pulling a blanket from the bed and wrapping herself in it. Pushing a hand through her tangled hair, she glanced out the window. The sky had that grayish cast that marked either twilight or early dawn. She frowned, not sure which it was.

Walking through the doorway, her gaze lingered on the bags packed and ready on the floor by the exit of the room. She hoped they’d never need them, but it made her feel good that they were there. He’d packed them with a change of clothes for each of them, shoes, a little food and water . . . and some weapons. Gabriel had found a couple of charmed iron knives and clubs hidden away in a cupboard. They were illegal to possess in Piefferburg. Luckily for them, the former tenant hadn’t cared.

As soon as she walked into the living room she noted the floor plan. Every time she came into the room she did that, reminding herself where the exits were. Gabriel had done well to select this place. The front of the house had an entry from the street, a snaky, sparsely inhabited, and numerously treed road. On the opposite side of the living room was a winding staircase that led to the smaller lower level and the patio doors that let out into the woods. Beyond the large window that showed such a beautiful scene of the Boundary Lands, small lights flickered and flitted—the tiniest of the nature fae.