Primal Pleasure: Pendragon Gargoyles, Book 3 (6 page)

“Only after your Luigi shoved her into the lava.” Kennedy snagged a pretzel from the bowl and popped it into her mouth.

“A game,” he repeated, the cat inside him finally starting to calm. There hadn’t been a threat to Emma.

Instead the three of them were playing a video game. Together. He’d only been gone an hour and already they were befriending her? The sorceress who’d left him in stone for a century?

“She’s not my pet,” he snapped.

“Really?” Sorcha nudged the end of the gold and silver links with her foot. “Because that looks like a chain to me.” She glanced at Kennedy, who nodded.

“You were the one who put the chain on her to begin with.”

The huntress shrugged as though that detail was irrelevant at this point. “You should at least get her a studded collar to match if you’re planning on keeping her awhile.”

Kennedy coughed and looked at the screen.

He stared Sorcha down, half hoping to provoke the huntress. He’d only feel marginally guilty for tangling with his brother’s mate if it managed to loosen the tension that had tightened to a stranglehold the moment he’d thought Emma was in trouble. And if Cale wanted to kick his ass for it later, so much the better. Right about now he had as much energy as three gargoyles and needed a way to burn it off before it burned him up.

But Sorcha didn’t take the bait, arching a brow and smiling like she knew something he didn’t.

Whose side was she on, anyway?

“Let’s go,” he growled at Emma.

“We’re on our way out too,” Sorcha added, her grin widening. “Don’t forget your leash though.”

He snapped the other end of the chain up but Emma was already ahead of him. Impatient to get out of there, he didn’t bother to say goodbye.

“You’re welcome,” Kennedy called out as the pair joined them in the hall, but thankfully headed in the opposite direction. “Later, Emma.”

The two laughed and he swore he heard them say something about wondering how long he’d have his head stuffed up his ass.

He hadn’t calmed down much by the time he reached his rooms. He needed to go for a run, or hit something. Anything to defuse the rising upheaval that left him on edge.

Emma said nothing, her face no longer as relaxed as it had been in the den.

Damn it, he would not feel guilty over that. She’d stolen a hundred years of his life and hadn’t shown even an ounce of remorse. Making it all the worse was how easily she’d charmed everyone. First him, then his brothers’ mates—and they’d helped track her down.

If it took him being an ass to make Emma grateful he hadn’t locked her in the cellar for the next millennia, that was fine with him. The angrier he was, the less he wanted to strip her down and trace every inch of her with his tongue—

Emma swiveled around without warning, and he nearly ran over her. She huffed out a breath, but quickly got her bearings—too quickly—and backed up.

Instantly, he recognized the determined glimmer in her eyes, the same he’d glimpsed earlier in the kitchen.

“Was there something you wanted to say?” Or do? Or touch?

She squared her shoulders. “Make up your mind.”

“Excuse me?”

“You need to decide what you plan to do to me.”

“To you?” Angry, aroused or just plain out of his mind, the list was truly endless.

She didn’t back down, not even when he deliberately tried to crowd her, propping one hand on the wall and leaning in until her back came up against it.

“However you plan on getting even, you need to make up your mind.”

“That sounds like an awfully big threat from a rather powerless sorceress.”

She flinched, then her cheeks deepened to a dark pink, as did the tip of her nose. She jerked her hand up. “I won’t always be wearing this, gargoyle.”

“So I should be nice to you, is that it?”

Her chin came up another notch, but she said nothing.

“How nice are you looking for exactly?” He planted his other hand on the opposite side of her. “Nice like I was in the kitchen or very, very nice?”

She slammed her palm into his chest.

He grinned at the aggressive play even as the most primitive parts of him hungered to dominate her in every way. Her scent was driving him crazy. It was all he could do not to tuck his face against her throat and inhale her. The longer they stood so close, the harder he found it to remember anything but the taste of her.

“Whatever it is, just—” her breath hissed out when he couldn’t help himself and ran his thumb from the base of her throat up to her chin, “—get on with it already.” The last few words were only a whisper.

He watched her mouth. “Is there some other place you need to be?” Fascinated with the flutter of her pulse, he opened his mouth over her warm skin.

She closed her eyes and the fingers she planted against his chest curled into his shirt. “It won’t be long before I’m tracked here. Do you think I have no one who cares enough to look for me?”

The cat snarled possessively, but the man only nipped at her. “An army could come and it wouldn’t matter.” He waited until she looked at him to be sure she understood perfectly. “I have no intention of letting you go.”

Chapter Four

“You would risk your family to keep me?”

For all the practice she had at masking her fear—thanks to Elena—the gargoyle’s steel-edged conviction made it hard not to take him seriously. As worried as she’d been over her fate, some small part of her had dared to hope he might willingly release her.

The look on his face, the unwavering blue depths locked on her, told her he meant every word. He really had no intention of releasing her.

“My family can handle themselves.”

She swallowed past the momentary panic clawing at her throat. “So revenge is all that matters to you?” She certainly hadn’t gotten that vibe when she’d touched his belongings and experienced those memories.

“Not all that matters, no.” He dragged his shirt over his head and tossed it behind him.

“Whoa there, Chippendale. Let’s keep this PG rated.”

Unfazed, he moved his hand to the fly of his jeans, drawing her attention down his toned abs—and how had she missed those on the roof?

“Is there a problem?”

Hell yeah, there was a problem. She just couldn’t remember exactly what it was as the button gaped open just a fraction.

Focusing, she went with the obvious. “You just took your shirt off.”

“And yours is next.”

“In your dreams, gargoyle.” She slipped around him, finding it easier to keep a clear head when she wasn’t pinned between him and the wall.

He tugged his zipper down and circled her, pausing behind her long enough to whisper, “In my dreams the only thing covering your body is me.”

Her stomach grew hot at the image that unfolded in her mind. She shook her head to erase it as much to discourage him—as if that were possible—and preferably before the jeans riding low on his hips slid any lower.

Avalon help her, there was no way he was wearing any underwear beneath them.

She needed to stay focused on finding a way out of this mess, preferably with her clothing intact.

Given the way the corners of his mouth tipped up, as if amused by her white-knuckled grip on her shirt, the odds didn’t seem to be in her favor. That fact alone spurred her retreat.

Cian tensed like an animal about to take down its prey, but after a few feet, he still hadn’t moved. How was it that he managed to make her feel like she was being stalked when he hadn’t taken a single step in her direction?

She searched his face, finally understanding the wicked glimmer in his eyes. He was enjoying it. He wanted her to run, wanted to catch her.

Which only forced her to acknowledge that she wanted to be caught.

Caught. Kissed. Touched.

And it was all so damn crazy. She didn’t do one-night stands with men under normal circumstances, let alone with one who was casually eyeing the chain she dragged along the floor like it was part of the trap he couldn’t wait to spring.

“I am not some sex slave.”

When he took a step toward her, she wished she hadn’t said a damn thing.

“You’re right about that,” he drawled innocently, and she scrambled back another step, realizing too late he was herding her toward his bedroom.

“Slaves,” he continued, “need to be coerced in the beginning. You want it. Want me.”

A hint of uncertainty echoed beneath all that slick feline arrogance, surprising her. Distracting her. Otherwise she might have noticed how quickly he closed the distance between them, forcing her to tip her head back to meet his gaze. He towered over her five-foot-four frame, but she didn’t find it as intimidating as she should have given the magic-nulling handcuff locked around her wrist.

Everything about the situation left her at a disadvantage, but she refused to play the submissive female.

He stared at her throat before finally lifting his hand and tracing the soft hollow, then moving on to her collarbone. The teasing brush of his thumb was at odds with the tension she felt radiating from him.

“You didn’t deny that you want me.” His hands slid beneath her jacket and over her shoulders.

“And give you a reason to prove I was lying?”

He laughed, and the rough sound washed over her. A little dazed by his smile, she was slow to process her jacket sliding down to her arms.

Her eyes snapped open—when the hell had she closed them?—and she stumbled back. He might have been too distracted when she’d been in the shower to realize how few tracings she had, but risking it a second time was a really bad idea. It wouldn’t take him long to realize the cuff would null any ability to mask her tracings.

A tug on her wrist pulled her forward. She immediately retreated, stepping inside the dark bedroom at her back.

Could he see well enough to notice her tracings—or lack thereof—in the dark?

He stopped in the doorway, the light behind him casting his face in shadows. Maybe she’d been a little premature with the whole not-intimidated thing. She managed another step, and he countered with another tug on the chain until she was forced to meet him halfway.

“Cian.”

He stopped, only a foot away now. “Again.” He stepped forward, and her thighs connected with his.

“I don’t—”

“My name. Say it again.”

Her lips parted soundlessly.

“Please.”

Inches separated them. “Cian.”

His palm caressed her jaw, guiding her closer. “Again,” he murmured.

“Ci—”

He slanted his mouth across hers. Soft and hot, the lazy kiss stoked a low fire in her belly. It was impossible not to part her lips and welcome him deeper, sinking into him.

He groaned, nipping at her bottom lip and getting closer.

And then everything shot sideways. She thought it was just in her head until Cian’s arm snapped around her and they went down hard. He took the brunt of the impact when they hit the floor.

Hearing the chain clink somewhere behind her, Emma realized it had tripped them. Catching her breath, she stared down at him, increasingly aware of the way she was sprawled across his chest. Without her jacket providing any kind of buffer, there was no way to deny how good it felt to be tucked against him.

Carefully, he brushed her hair to the side, his fingers sliding through the dark strands.

“Do you have any idea how beautiful you are?”

She shook her head. She’d never considered herself more than average, especially when standing next to her twin. Elena’s natural glow drew men like lambs to the heart-breaking slaughter.

But the way Cian was looking at her…like something from a dream whose details had faded and left only the feeling that she wanted to relive it over and over again.

“After a hundred years, I’m betting you’d find even a blow-up doll beautiful.”

Cian’s mouth fell open. “A child’s toy is meant to explode in this century?”

“No. That’s not…I mean…” She closed her eyes at the feel of his fingers rubbing along her neck. “That’s really distracting, you know.”

He rolled to trap her beneath him, then ran his mouth along the same path. “How about this?”

“I can still string a sentence together.” Barely. Another minute of this and he’d have to peel her off the floor. God, the only thing worse than the gargoyle holding her against her will was how much she was enjoying it.

Avalon help her, she really was worse than an enchantress. “You and I… We need to stop… We can’t do this.”

He opened his mouth over the hollow at the base of her throat. “Can. Most definitely are.”

“So you’d force me?”

“Did I force you to put your arms around my neck, sorceress?”

Her gaze darted to the traitorous hands linked behind his neck. A low growl stopped her from releasing her hold on him entirely.

“And afterward you’ll dispose of me, or maybe keep me chained up here until the next time?” Maybe if she clung to the latter possibility, she would stop aching to feel his mouth on hers again.

“Then we’ll do it again.” He pulled her skin between his lips, sucking softly. “And again.”

Pure carnal heat streamed through her and she arched beneath him. A sexy groan of approval rumbled in his chest. Catching her mouth with his, Cian kissed her long and deep, coaxing a desperate moan from her lips. And desperate was the only way to describe the need crackling under her skin.

“Admit how much you want me, Emma.”

“I think your ego is already big enough, gargoyle.” She planted a hand against his chest, not expecting—or really wanting—him to budge when she gave him a half-hearted push.

He surprised her by rolling to his back again and dragging her with him. He caught her hips, pulling her until she brushed the hard length of him.

They both moaned, and she straddled him, instinctively rocking back until the head of his cock pressed against her.

His fingers dug into her, holding her still. His expression darkened, with pleasure or pain she wasn’t sure. Then he caught the ends of her shirt and jerked it over her head. And Avalon help her, she didn’t even try to stop him.

So beautiful.

Cian let his head drop back to the floor, a little bit dazed by the female hovering over him. Her cheeks were flushed, her lips damp from his mouth, her eyes…for a moment he thought he saw flecks of purple glint in the dim lighting.