Villain (4 page)

Stella didn’t blame him as the others did; she wasn’t poisoned by hate for him, nor cared to blame anyone for what may just be nature’s doing. The only thing she could blame on him was the pains in her body, the lava rushing down her bloodstream, the burning in her womb. For two weeks, she found herself wandering near the cave on evenings. Be it rain or shine, she would go there. She would stare longingly at the cave, and sometimes on her way back visit the grave for a glimpse of that fresh white lily, and to beseech the same of Faith Harrison over and over again. “Whatever you’re doing, please stop now, or tell me what you want from me.”
Now. Before I go crazy, before I die from pain of wanting what can’t be mine
.

Her pleas went unanswered. The images, dreams, or memories—whatever they were—continued with intensity. Sometimes, as she strode down the streets, or stared out of her window, Stella would sense his presence. She would feel him watching her, his ruthless gaze like stabs in the heart. But his gaze didn’t frighten her. It primed her, so she felt needy for it, missed it whenever it was not there, and wanted the owner of it as much as her next breath.

His crows had been following her, too. Unnerved by their presence, her mother had been flinging rocks and curses at them all week. The crows would fly away, only to return to Stella’s windowsill, or perch atop the twisted arms of the tree outside her room and caw to announce their arrival.

Every night came a memory, and there were a few days she couldn’t even get out of bed, and instead remained there shivering with fever. Doctors came and went, merely checking her blood pressure, handing out aspirins. They were used to her fevers by now, and could never pinpoint the source of them.

Stella knew it was him. This want of him…oh, how deeply it burned.

* * *

One rainy afternoon, she locked the door to her room and stripped off her clothes, feeling so sensitive even the fabric on her body seemed to have scraped her flesh raw. Even naked, her nipples felt over-sensitized and tingly. She waited for the vision, willing it to take her, willing it to remind her what he felt like so close to her. Stella gasped when it did.

He was pressing her back against a wall, his hands pinioning hers to her sides. He looked angry, his face harsh, the gleam in his eyes vicious. She could feel the desperation inside her, the need clogging her throat.

“Please, Gabriel,” she pleaded, shuddering with arousal.

Stella had never seen Faith Harrison in the visions. Instead she lived the memory from the woman’s perspective, seeing Gabriel Hunter as Faith had seen him, grand and virile and wonderful. Stella felt what Faith felt, said what she said, and lately ached to
be
her only to have him as her own.

“I’m going to kill that son of a bitch,” he told her, leaning into her so she could barely breathe from the weight of him, his warm, dirty, mine-worker’s hands splaying over hers against the wall.

“Please, don’t,” she whispered. “Stay out of this, Gabriel, please.” Stella as Faith laced her fingers through his and gripped them tightly.

He rolled his hips against hers. “He’s not touching you,” he bit out, the famished look in his eyes intensifying as he gazed down at her lips. “Nobody is touching you but me.”

“He won’t; I won’t let him,” she assured, her pussy heating with juices that spread down to her limbs until she could barely stay on her own two feet. “It’s only you I want, only you I love, haven’t we promised?” She shoved her pelvis to his, encouraging him with her body. “Please fuck me. I can’t stand being near you without having you inside me.”

He made a coarse sound, bent his dark head, and pressed his hungry lips to her neck, slipping his tongue out for a taste of her. “Let’s go away now, Faith. Right now.”

She smoothed her hands along his arms and back, then raked her nails on his skin as she tried to press him closer. “No. I need my father safe first. I need to do this. I will leave with you afterward. We can meet in the city, and we won’t return here ever again.”

“No. I can’t bear it,” he said passionately, lifting his head and staring down at her with piercing black eyes.

“Please, you have to. If you love me at all, you will.”

Pain was harsh on his features, roughly etching the lines on his brow. “I love you more than my own life.” He cradled her face with a shaky hand, and she instinctively leaned into it.

“I need you. God, I need you, baby,” he rasped as he clutched the collar of her shirt and jerked, tearing it open; buttons flew everywhere. “I want you naked. I want to see your breasts, your pussy with my cock inside it.”

She melted, closing her eyes as her breasts tumbled free while he tugged at her skirt with urgency.

“Please,” she gasped, her vagina clenching, her womb trembling for him.

Once he’d pulled off the last scrap of her clothing, a wanton shiver coursed through her, and she gloried in the feel of his roughened hands scraping against her flesh. His breath was close to her ear, his voice a heated murmur. “I want to lick away your cream, and when you kiss me, you’ll taste your sweetness in my mouth.”

He groaned as he touched her, feeling her body with his hands, his palms, his fingers. One nipple disappeared into his mouth, and she gave out a sharp cry of pleasure as he suckled it. “Yes,” she cried, holding his face in place so he dare not stop. The suction of his warm mouth around her nipple, the hot stroke of his tongue over the tip, made a tingling burn spread across her whole being. Heat simmered around her sex, until a rhythmic throbbing was beating steady and fast in her clit.

“Gabriel, I want to feel your skin on mine,” she implored, pushing him away so both of them could pull on his clothing. His clothes were filthy, as always when he came from working a full shift in the mine, and oh, how she loved the smell of him. Sweaty and soiled and manly.

He had barely kicked off his clothes when she was on her knees, taking him in her mouth. He rolled his head back, growling as his fingers slowly sifted through her hair. He held her still as he slowly circled his hips, guiding his cock inside her mouth.

She licked voraciously, pulling back to suck on the tip and swallow the salty moistness before taking him all in again. His hands tightened around her hair, his cock shuddering inside her mouth when she began a quick to-and-fro motion with her head.

“No, Faith. I’m coming inside you.” His voice was like gravel as he boosted her up and pressed her back against the wall. Within seconds, her legs were looped around him, and he was shoving up inside her.

“Yes!” she cried, thrusting her breasts out to him with an arch of her back. He feasted on a nipple, licking and nipping it with his tongue and lips. Then he groaned as he quickened his rhythm, opening his mouth wide around the areole and panting for breath over it.

“Baby,” he rasped, his hips pumping against hers faster. Her head fell back on the wall behind her; her eyes closed as she let him fuck her. She tightened her legs around him to encourage his pace, desperate, hungry sounds spilling from her mouth. Her hands lay on his shoulders, fingers gripping him as she tried to meet each of his thrusts.

In one swift move, he pulled back and flipped her, set her spread eagle against the wall and pressed his cock to her back entrance.

“Every tight, hot inch of you is mine,” he told her, sliding a hand between her legs to palm her pussy and spread her cream all the way back. “If he so much as lays a hand on you—”

“He won’t, Gabriel. I’d die first,” she vowed, splaying her fingers on the wall. “Please, fuck me. Fuck me now.”

“Touch yourself,” he ordered, prodding the head of his cock to her ass as he spread her cheeks apart with his hands. “Touch yourself like you do when you think of me.”

She slipped a hand between her legs, the other braced against the wall as he clamped his hands on her hips and plunged his cock inside her. She screamed, one hand fisting on the wall, the other stroking her clit with a fast, shaky finger.

“Is that good?” he asked, pulling out and plunging back in again. “Is that good, baby?”

“Yes! Yes!” She circled her clit, slipping a finger down the moistened cleft of her pussy, up and down, then into the slit.

“Let me help with that.” He snaked one arm around her waist while his other hand skimmed down her pelvis. His fingers brushed over her knuckles, his hand settling firmly over hers, and then his finger followed hers inside her.

Her own lustful cries echoed in her ears as those two fingers penetrated, his cock ruthlessly shafting her from behind.

“Tell me,” he demanded, his coarse breathing hot on her neck. “Tell me it’s me and me alone.”

“Yes, oh, yes!”

She heard his grating cry, felt that last thrust so deep, and let herself follow him.

Stella exploded, her finger moving quickly over her clit as she did. She had not even recovered when his words poured over her soul again.

I need you. Come to me
.

Chapter Three

Stella couldn’t stay away. Not when he was calling her. Not when she was burning for him. It was like asking herself to endure a lifetime of torment, of wanting and denying herself. She felt such need she wanted to scream and rip her own heated flesh from her body—she was almost certain it would hurt less.

If it was true that he drove Faith Harrison to her death, he was doing the same to her without even a rope.

That morning she changed into a short, navy blue cotton dress and white cotton panties, forgoing the bra when she discovered it felt painful on her breasts. She helped her mother with her chores, then waited anxiously until the sky was streaked with sunset before heading toward the cave.

Clouds marred the darkening sky, while the air was humid, the soil damp from so much rain. It was eerily calm now that the storm was over, and somehow she preferred the passion of the storm, the sounds of it, more than this calm silence. It was like an unspoken threat, a promise of incoming destruction.

She didn’t find him there. The cave was dark and gloomy, and her voice echoed in her ears as she called his name. The little hairs behind her neck pricked when she heard rustles from inside, then a crow flew out in a flurry of wings, its ungodly screech tearing the breath right out of her.

She walked shakily back to the beach and waited for him, watching the waves roll and crash against the shore. The sound lulled her, and when she closed her eyes and reopened them, an image of his face hovered before her. She began to feel warm, so warm. She slid one hand across the sensitive tips of her breasts and felt the thick rivers of arousal stream down to her panties.

“I told you not to come here again.”

She jumped to her feet, and when she whirled around to face him, felt already short of breath.

“You’ve been following me,” was the first thing she said, “and I want to know why.”

He was staring past her shoulder, at the waves, the horizon; Lord knows what could engross him so.

When there was only silence, she insisted, “I asked you a question.”

He treated her to a hard, uncompromising stare, and then began to head toward the cave. Stella had never seen someone so determined to get away from her.

Feeling desperate herself, Stella ran after him, putting her hand over his arm to stop him. “You say you have nothing to give, no heart, no soul, but please…”

He turned around, the expression on his face vicious, the slits of his eyes glimmering menacingly, and yet it didn’t deter her.

“I have one request of you, and then I promise I won’t ask for anything else.”

He stared at her. She could feel his powerful gaze wandering inside her, and she had the strange feeling he could reach inside her mind, into her thoughts.

Lord knows what ideas he found there.

She wanted no misunderstandings, so she drew in a deep breath and said, “Give me your body.”

There was a nearly imperceptible widening of his eyes.

“That’s all I ask of you,” she said simply.

His face didn’t betray a single emotion, making her wonder if he was even capable of feeling anything, or if he’d buried it all along with Faith Harrison as well.

I told you not to come here
.

She heard the words clearly, and yet—call her imaginative—his mouth hadn’t moved.

Nervously licking her lips, she lifted a tender hand to his jaw, but he quickly took a step back. She dropped her hand, her words filled with conviction. “If you give me your body, I will give you mine.”

He was so still she thought he might not even be breathing. “No.”

That sharp retort hurt more than a measly little word like that should have. “Am I the only one of us that feels this…this…burning?” Everything, including her voice, shook with want. Her muscles felt languid; need spread throughout her body like a firestorm. If he thought her horny or easy, she was beyond caring. “It’s only me, then, who feels this horrible, wrenching…need of you.”

One side of his eye quivered, fingers curling into fists at his sides before he whirled around and started for the cave. “Go, woman.”

“My name is Stella!” She followed him, flexing her own fingers at her sides out of sheer desperation. “And I will not leave!”

Then I will
make
you leave. Leave and never return
.

She pushed that thought—
his
thought—away and followed him through the wide opening in the cave, stepping around the coiled ropes until she reached the far end. Flickering torchlight blazed against the walls, the flames casting shadows upon the rocky, jagged edges. She was surprised to find blankets strewn around one corner, as well as clothes, books.

A big book, as black as his eyes and far older than his years, jutted out from the top of a stack, and she could make out the unmistakable pentagram on its cover.

The Book of Shadows
.

It wasn’t his voice she heard, but a woman’s, Faith’s voice, now so familiar Stella was not even alarmed to hear it. Faith Harrison seemed now as much a part of Stella as her stomach, her hands, her lungs.

Gabriel was toiling around one corner, but his shoulders were tense, giving her the unmistakable impression that he was as keenly aware of her as she was of him.

“I know you want this too,” she said softly, eagerly.

He stiffened, his hand pausing over a pile of neatly folded clothes; his rough-hewn voice reached her. “Take off your clothes.”

Just to hear those words aroused her. Her legs felt loose and heavy as she undressed, her eyes not once straying from his back as he removed his dirty linen shirt only to slip on a clean one. She swallowed at the sight of rippling muscles, and then wondered why he would want her naked if he was not undressing himself. Oh, but she wanted to be naked. It felt so good to stand here, with the air around her, and be seen. For once, she was not invisible, not covered for the sake of others.

When he slowly turned and set his eyes on her, she was not even ashamed. Modesty had no place here.

His face was partly shadowed so that she could barely make out his features, but even without the benefit of light, she could discern the unearthly glow of his eyes. He was very still for a moment, and she inwardly feared he might not be pleased with what he saw. Then he slowly advanced toward her. Her breasts rose and fell, every step of his somehow making her more and more breathless.

He paused only a few feet away from her. His eyes felt like brandings on her flesh.

“I have dreamed so many times,” she told him.

“Hush.” His hand shot out, curling around the back of her neck. His big body was so near, the blood in her veins seemed to sing for it.

His thumb stroked the delicate hairs on her nape, and her lashes dropped as she savored the touch, her sex pulsing at each gentle stroke.

“What is it that you want?” he asked, palming one breast with his other hand. His touch felt like fire on her flesh, his grip as it closed around her harsh and possessive. She forgot to breathe, to think, to speak, to do anything but stand there and let him see her, touch her.

A moan thrust up to her throat the same instant he growled, yanked her forward, and clamped his lips on hers. Oh she’d wanted this, his mouth on hers, kissing
her
—Stella McKenna—not a woman long dead. His tongue was almost violent, plundering into her mouth until she felt like he was fucking her with his tongue.

She rubbed her body against his, wanting to feel him, feel his sex stir awake for her. Both his hands fisted around her hair and pulled her head back as his mouth angled over hers.

The kiss intensified, and so did the burning heat inside her. Her head was spinning and she hadn’t even realized she was gripping his arms so tight until her hands began to shake. She moaned into his mouth, and in that same instant he tore away from her, his eyes blazing red as he bared his teeth. “Do you want to be fucked? Is that it?”

Her lips stung with his kiss and her weakened body protested for more. She trembled, her gaze searching the dark pools of his eyes as she whispered, “Yes.”

Didn’t
he?

Every muscle in him seemed to contract at her admission. “I will not be fucking you,” he said.

She felt herself sway and she placed a hand over her drumming heart as if to steady herself. “Please…I need this so much.”

He snarled and with a quick, jolting movement of his hands sent two ropes flying upward. They snatched her wrists, jerking them up over her head toward the ceiling. Her toes still touched the ground, but barely, her and arms suddenly stretched.

There was an eerie spark in his eyes, and anger, so much of it. She could feel the rage inside him as if it was churning in her own stomach, and yet a part of her seemed to understand, know the origin of such anger, such desperation.

He advanced on her, kicking her legs apart. “Oh, you’ll get fucked all right,” he said in a deceptively soft murmur. “But it won’t be by me.”

It won’t be by me
.

The words came back to him, and Gabriel realized he must’ve done something very evil to deserve this.

In another life, another time, another circumstance, Gabriel would’ve loved nothing more than to run his tongue down that supple, curvy body and plunge his hardness into her cunt.

His senses, sharpened by his solitude, could pick up the tantalizing heat of her lust, the sweet tang of her want. Her pussy gleamed wetly, the pink lips puffed with need, the sight beckoning his lips. But Gabriel wouldn’t give Faith away. Not for madness, not for lust.

Faith would come back to him, and he would wait. Keep on waiting. Magic was all he had left, and if he stopped believing in that…

Summoned by his will, the thick, smooth scepter appeared in his hand, and he closed his grip around it, ascertaining himself of its presence. His gaze never wavered from Stella’s.

“You shouldn’t have come back,” he said thickly.

Her quiet reply, as clear as it was silent, was one he wasn’t expecting to hear.

You called me
.

A wave of anger swept across him. “I did not call you.”

You called me, and I came
.

Damn foolish woman! Yet he couldn’t help but notice how beautiful she looked now. Her skin was smooth and creamy, the tips of her breasts elongated and ready for a tug of his lips. Her belly rose with each of her breaths, and the V of silky hairs between her legs was trim enough to display the bright pink, swollen lips nestled between them.

He was sure the sight of her would haunt him forever.

“I want you so much,” she whispered, the gentle admission so poignant he felt it snake around his gut.

He didn’t want to want her, didn’t want to feel so goddamned contemptible for denying her, but he could not fuck her. Could
not
. Didn’t she understand this? What in the hell would it take to make her leave him alone, damn her?

“What you want is to
fuck
,” he said, his jaw clenched. One hand shot out and rudely parted the folds of her pussy, spreading the dewy petals apart. “You’re so desperate to screw I’d bet you’d fuck anything, wouldn’t you?” He opened her wider, insinuating a finger inside her. “Wouldn’t you?”

She moved, her body fluctuating, her hips nudging his hand. “Yes, touch me more.” Her cheeks were flushed with heat and her gold-specked eyes hazed by desire.

Seized by hunger he hadn’t felt in years, he growled, crushing her creamy cunt in his hand. “I cannot fuck you, do you hear me?” The urgency in his voice demanded she grasp their meaning. “Do you understand? I made a vow!”

His finger plundered inside her. He twisted it hard, a brutal move meant to show her the meaning of his words.

But she whimpered, crying out to him in a breathless, hot whisper. “I beg you…” Her cunt rippled around his finger, the swollen muscles clamping firmly to it. She pushed down against it, lodging it in deeper. “Please,
more
.”

“All you’re getting is this,” he hissed, withdrawing his finger, his arms shaking with restraint as he spread her entrance with one hand and slowly immersed the lower half of his scepter inside her. She yelped, then bit her lip, her eyes widening as her body arched to receive the thick, smooth shaft. The pink, turgid lips of her sex enveloped its circumference, sliding down its width as the polished surface penetrated.

Gabriel went very still as she cried out, her head falling back limply. The swift pounding of his heart echoed in his ears.

Raging need tormented his insides, and he could barely tolerate the pain of the thick, rigid outline of his cock pressing hard against his pants. Watching the rod slip inside her, he wanted to scream, jerk it out, and plunge his dick right there, in that warm, scented heaven that now opened and creamed for its impalement.

Panting for breath, she began to move, a faint circle of her hips around the scepter, needy, aroused little moans tearing from her lips. He hadn’t thought this would please her. He’d thought—he’d
wanted
—to hurt her. Frighten her. Make her leave and never return, never come back to tempt him or torment him. But her submission—the easy way she yielded, the erotic way she took the shaft inside her and fucked it—was driving him insane.

Gabriel wanted to hit something. Had he not been occupied with a wanton female who had
no
idea for what she asked, he’d have been causing hell somewhere, slamming things, pounding his fists into anything nearby until his knuckles broke.

His whole body shook with the want to feel her, to bury himself inside the succulent walls of her pussy and forget whatever stood between them. His cock was on fire, jutting out against his pants. He felt the moisture of his cum gathering at the tip, dampening the fabric, and his aching balls felt laden with need.

Damn her! He pulled the scepter out, then shoved it back in again. “There you go,” he said in a savage whisper, twisting the scepter in deeper. “Fucked by a stick.”
And that’s all you’ll be fucked by, damn me!

The hot, aroused sounds she made hit him like cannon balls in the groin. His linen shirt clung to his sweaty chest and he felt an urge to hump his cock against anything, anything nearby. Dear God, against
her
.