Wicked Enchantment (9 page)

His time would come.

From the heart of the building, a gong sounded. Three short bursts of resonating sound that immediately wiped away the lust and rage that had entered his body in the last couple of minutes. Leaving all the work he had to do lying on his desk, he entered a small room that adjoined his office. Every member of the highest echelons of the Phaendir had their own, private chamber where they could worship. The lower slobs had a communal room.

After lighting the six candles on the small wooden table near the entrance, he closed the door and carefully disrobed, hanging his suit from a peg on the opposite wall so he wouldn’t get blood on it. Then he removed his socks and shoes and placed them near the doorway.

Taking the leather cat-o’-nine-tails from its peg, he knelt before the table with the candles, closed his eyes, and lifted it. Pretty, sleek cat that bestowed pain and joy in equal measure.

The blows rained down on his back, steady and soothing, motions he’d made every day and millions of times. His back was a mass of white, mottled scar tissue. Each lash of the cat-o’-nine-tails flayed skin from his scarred back. Blood flowed ichorlike and hot down his skin, trickled down his back, trailed over his buttocks and in between his thighs. The scent of coppery heat filled the small space.

His eyeballs rolled back into his head as the pain entered the place between discomfort and pleasure, a sweet hot edge he walked every day. His voice droned out of him with the sure rhythm of words written into his soul and uttered five hundred times a day.

GABRIEL
was standing too close to Aislinn in the crush. So close she could smell his skin. So close the heat of him radiated from his body and warmed her. Gods, so close it was making her lightheaded.

No
. She couldn’t do this, couldn’t think these things.

She closed her eyes for a moment and searched for a handle on her reactions. She was not going to do this. She was
not
. Not with this man. Because whether or not he believed his natural form of magick was a burden, he was still sex on legs and a natural womanizer. He was the last man on earth she needed to feel even a flicker of an attraction for right now. No matter whether it was artificial or not.

Carina had cornered her as soon as she’d walked into the banquet with Gabriel at her side. As he’d located their seats in the massive Seelie Court dining room, Carina had pulled Aislinn aside and placed a very bad little bug in her ear.

“Don’t feel bad if you end up sleeping with him,” she’d whispered. “Think of him as your rebound man. I’m sure Gabriel wouldn’t mind being used. That’s sort of his job, isn’t it? At the very least, he’s hardly looking for a commitment, right?”

It was the same thing a tiny—very tiny—dark voice in the back of her brain had been whispering to her since last night. Although not quite in those terms. It was a little brutal to assume that Gabriel was some sort of natural whore that any woman could use and then toss away like a Kleenex. She didn’t think of anyone in such cavalier terms.

Yet there was a part of her, a portion of her mind she tried to keep under lock and key, that wondered how Gabriel might be in bed—a man that old, that experienced, and with the magick inherent to his kind. It was the completely sexual part of her, the totally female part who noticed a man like Gabriel.

After all, she was a healthy woman. Any healthy woman would notice him.

Not even the weight of the prophetic dream she’d had seemed to be putting a damper on her attraction to him. She’d tried to talk sense into her libido several times. Gabriel was the man who would be the catalyst of her death. According to her dream, he wouldn’t directly be the cause of it, but he would inadvertently have a major hand in bringing it about.

There was no denying fate. Aislinn believed that. Even if she cut and ran now, tried as hard as she could to distance herself from the catalyst, fate would have its way with her.

Aislinn hoped that she’d misinterpreted the dream somehow. Death was a symbol for change.
Danu
, even Gabriel had said as much at dinner. So perhaps Gabriel would be the catalyst for
change
in her life and not death in the literal sense. Dreams did use symbols, after all.

And the hands? Those grasping, pulling hands, drowning her in the lake of death? Well, okay, she hadn’t found a palatable explanation for that yet.

After Carina had voiced Aislinn’s own thoughts—in a harsher way—back at her, her friend had ensured Aislinn was seated next to Gabriel. They’d eaten dinner. Aislinn had done her duty, introducing him to all her friends, her mother, and her mother’s friends. Her mother had regarded Gabriel like he was a bug, but Gabriel hadn’t seemed to care.

Now dinner was over and the music had begun. Gabriel had asked her to dance.

And he was standing too close.

The last time they’d danced she’d been this close, but it had been different because she hadn’t felt quite the same way toward him—such a jumbled mess of fear and desire. Maybe she’d finally become intoxicated by incubus magick, finally succumbing to whatever sexual power he wielded unknowingly.

Surely that had to be it. No way had she come to this on her own.

His hand was around her waist and he’d pulled her flush up against his chest. He was much taller than her, even in her stiletto heels, so her chin didn’t quite fit over his shoulder. Instead she was forced to either lay her head on his upper chest or look up into his face, which seemed intimate since he liked to dip his face close to hers from time to time—lips almost touching.

Their hips were moving together with the music. Sway, thrust, sway. A little like sex.

Aislinn really wished she could stop thinking about sex. But as long as she could feel his muscled chest against hers and his cock pressing against her pelvis, that wasn’t happening. He had an erection and she had probably caused it. The thought that she affected him that way brought a hard flush to her face and made something low in her stomach flutter and roll.

Tonight he wore a pair of black pants and a beautiful, probably very expensive, black shirt. Dark colors seemed to be his preference and they worked for him. They set off his eyes and accentuated the glossy fall of his hair. The sheer physical beauty of this man seemed to fit his special brand of magick, making him even more lethal to the women he encountered.

She was sure the Summer Queen would grant his petition. No one could deny the temptation of rich, sinful chocolate, and
that
was Gabriel Cionaodh Marcus Mac Braire.

She wondered about his father, a pure-blood incubus, wondered if Gabriel looked like him or more like his mother. She’d noticed the loathing in his voice when he spoke of his father so she hoped, for his sake, it was his mother he resembled. That conversation had revealed depth to Gabriel—depths she wanted to explore further.

Had that been when her attraction to him had grown deeper? Not a good thought because that would mean it was authentic and not just false fae magick.

She surveyed the rest of the throng. Dancers talked and laughed, twirled and swayed. Lovers rested heads on shoulders. Colors swirled as the women paraded like peacocks. It was like this so often at Seelie Court. This glittering world was consumed with the show—with thinness, wealth, social interaction, parties, and balls. It grew boring for Aislinn, but seemingly she was the only one who thought so.

Faemous
crew circulated here and there, interviewing partygoers for the human world that purportedly found them so fascinating and frightening in equal measure.

Kendal had never thought the Rose boring, but he was a social climber, whereas Aislinn was not, much to her mother’s chagrin. Of course, in hindsight, now she understood the only reason he’d ever been with her had been because of her name and her ranking. He’d never loved her. He’d only lied to her.

She was sick of liars and frauds. Sick of being used. Therefore, she could never bring herself to use Gabriel, no matter how tempting the prospect.

Not even if he wanted to be used.

She surveyed the throng, knowing she’d find Kendal. Indeed, there he was, over by the edge of the dance floor talking with Erianne and shooting her his trademark grin, the very one he’d used on her in the beginning. So Erianne was his new conquest. Fine. She wouldn’t allow it to pinch her.

“What’s wrong?” Gabriel asked, then spun her to the right to follow her gaze. He spun her back, making a scoffing sound. “Don’t let that dick get you down. He’s not worth it.”

“Tell that to my heart,” she said before she realized the words had slipped out.

“Did you love him? Really?” He frowned. “I can tell at a glance what kind of man he is.” He paused and then growled, “Not the right kind for you.”

“You can’t tell that just by looking at him.”

He turned her, took a longer look at Kendal over her shoulder, and then said, “He’s weak and a user. Self-centered. He probably always talks about himself in a conversation. Am I right?” She nodded. “He’s a putz.”

“A putz?”

“Oh, yeah. Worthless.”

She glanced around Gabriel’s shoulder and saw that the putz in question had spotted them and was walking in their direction. “Oh, no. I don’t want to talk to him,” she said under her breath. “I haven’t talked to him since the breakup and—”

Putting his hand at the small of her back, Gabriel dipped her . . . then he kissed her.

Aislinn’s body stiffened, but she didn’t fight him. To fight him in this position meant she’d probably fall on her ass in the middle of the dance floor. Gabriel held her there, suspended in air, his warm, broad hand on the small of her back, his strong arms holding her effortlessly.

And the man could kiss.

His lips skated across hers slowly at first, then he nipped at her lower lip before slanting his mouth across hers and coaxing her to open for him. His tongue swept within and brushed up along her tongue . . . slowly. So slowly. Up and down. Hot and wet. She’d had no idea until now that her mouth was an erogenous zone. Her stomach did a flutter and pulse. Time seemed to stop and Kendal left her mind completely.

His kiss reminded her of sex.

Her body heated and she shivered at the same time. Her muscles relaxed and the sounds of the ballroom receded to nothingness against the suddenly loud beat of her heart. A purr started in the back of her throat and she swallowed it forcibly. Gods, the man kissed like an . . . well, like an incubus.

His lips still on hers, he pulled her up to stand again, flush against his body. Although her knees were so weak, she wasn’t sure she could. It didn’t matter; he held her up . . . and still kissed her. They weren’t even dancing anymore. His lips were sliding over hers and his tongue was skating along her tongue and there was nothing left but sensation. He took his time with her mouth, sucking on her lower lip and abrading it gently between his teeth, a thing that made places in her body much lower react. The hand he’d placed on her back found bare skin and stroked.

Someone cleared his throat beside her. Kendal? Aislinn could barely remember his name. Gabriel ignored him. He simply tightened his grip around her waist and turned her a little away from her conniving ex.

Kendal cleared his throat again. “Aislinn?”

Gabriel broke the kiss slowly, very slowly—dragging her lower lip once more through his teeth—before he raised his head.

She looked at Kendal, knowing her eyes were a little out of focus, her lips parted, swollen, and probably a bit red. She was completely unable to form words.

“Aislinn, you don’t have to show off this way in front of me. Really, I’ve moved on. I couldn’t care less who you’re fucking these days.” He flicked a glance at Gabriel. “Although I wouldn’t touch Unseelie trash if I were you. You’ll get a reputation.”

His words threw a bucket of cold water on her warm lethargy, but Gabriel’s reaction was faster. He gently extricated himself from her and loomed over Kendal, suddenly seeming twice the other man’s size.

Kendal took a step back and Gabriel’s hand reached out like lightning and fisted his shirt, making sure he couldn’t flee. Kendal blinked, his face going pale.

Gabriel bared his teeth a moment before speaking. “You gave up your right to talk to her when you used her, then publicly dumped her in front of all the court. You should turn around right now and leave before I get angry.”

“I have more of a right to talk to her than you do, incubus.”

The entire court had gone breathless. The music was still playing but no one within eyesight was dancing or listening. Everyone was starting to form a circle around them, unable to resist the next bit of gossip.

Aislinn was sick of being gossiped about.

She stepped toward her old beau and Gabriel released Kendal’s shirt, the pricey fabric now rumpled. “Kendal, if I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were jealous.”

His gaze flicked to her. “But you do know better.”

“I know enough to call you an idiot for baiting a half Unseelie who possesses magick strong enough to kill.” All Kendal could do was throw an illusion for a few seconds. Useless.

Kendal snorted. “What’s he going to do, fuck me to death?”

Gabriel had been quiet for the whole exchange, but Aislinn suspected quiet from that man meant dangerous. The very air around him seemed to become thicker, as if something was growing, something violent. She didn’t want to find out what it was.

She put her hand on Gabriel’s arm. “Let’s go. You took a rain check on a drink last night. I insist we have one together now.”

“My magick works on men, too,” Gabriel said, finally, “but I wouldn’t touch you with someone else’s dick.”