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I'm pathetic. "I...you...never mind. I'm going home."
His big hands framed her face, keeping her locked in place. Fear crawled up her spine. The kind she'd lived with 24/7 in New York.
You'll leave your hands where I put them, pretty girl, or I'll break them.
Her lungs constricted, making it impossible to breathe.
"All right, poppet. Calm down." William combed his fingers through her hair. "Take a deep breath for me."
Open your mouth for me.
Gillian erupted, beating at William. "Let me go. You have to let me go." As her fists bloodied his nose and cut his lip, she had no pride. No ambition but escape. "Don't touch me! You have to stop touching me!"
"Shh. Shh. I've got you." He yanked her against the hard line of his body and wrapped his arms around her, holding her captive. "I won't let anything bad happen to you, I swear it."
Still she fought. He only held her tighter.
Ultimately, her strength drained, and she sagged against him. Sobs racked her.
"I'll help you overcome this," he said, "but not tonight. With us, sex won't be a bandage meant to hide a wound."
She stiffened, opened her mouth, snapped it closed. Why couldn't he see? She needed a bandage. Her wound seeped poison. One day soon, it would kill her.
But he was right about one thing. She wasn't ready for sex.
Scratch that. She might not ever be ready. Her stephorrors had ruined her. Because, if she couldn't remain calm with William, the man she trusted above all others, she couldn't remain calm with anyone.
Gillian did the only thing she could, and put sex on her never-never list. Never acknowledge, never consider.
No hope. A ragged, broken sound left her. The kind injured animals made just before dying.
"One day, my silly Gilly Gumdrop, we'll look back on this night and laugh," William said, still so gentle, so tender. "You'll see."
"Maybe you're right." She prayed he was right.
"I'm the wisest man ever to walk the Earth," he said with a wink. "I know all."
No, not all. Not the key to breaking his curse.
"One day isn't now," she croaked. This time, as she fought to disentangle from his embrace, he let her go. "I'd like to go home."
"Don't be embarrassed," he said. "Not with me. We'll pretend this never happened. In fact, it's already wiped from my memory. We'll continue on as before." He took her hand, the same way he'd taken the other woman's hand, and another piece of Gillian's heart withered. "Let's fire up some video games and do a little zombie slaying."
"No." She shook her head, locks of hair slapping her cheeks. "Don't worry about me, okay? We're friends. We'll always be friends. I just... I need to be alone right now."
"Poppet--"
"Please, Liam."
The look he gave her broke her already broken heart.
Tomorrow, they'd go back to business as usual, and she'd go on living half a life, afraid of men and sex and maybe even happiness. Tonight she would cry.
4
Three days later
So. This is the woman William of the Dark will live or die for.
Puck crouched on the railing of an eighteenth-story balcony, gargoyle-style, and peered into a spacious apartment with only two occupants. William of the Dark and Gillian Shaw.
Soon she would be Gillian Connacht.
William. Wed. War.
Now that Puck had found William, his tasks shifted: wed the girl, cart her to Amaranthia, return for the male. Wed. Cart. Return.
Perhaps he should stop staring at the female first?
Impossible.
While the demon growled with displeasure, Puck drank in Gillian's dark fall of silken waves and eyes the color of whiskey. Seductive eyes filled with kindling. One day, a male would light her match, and she would burn for him, and him alone.
Flawless golden skin and blood-red lips only added to her appeal, making her the embodiment of a fairy-tale princess.
My princess.
Puck bit his tongue--he should have tasted blood, but because of Indifference, he tasted nothing. There was no denying the truth. Being near the female he planned to wed came with an unexpected complication. Indifferent? Hardly. She roused his most possessive instincts.
Soon she would belong to him. She would be his first and only "mine," without actually being his.
Must police my thoughts about her, or I'll ruin everything.
He felt as if he'd been watching Gillian for days, even weeks, as if he knew her, and yet he marveled over every new detail he learned. She was shockingly human, with a gentle spirit and an aura of kindness. Her beguiling smile was infectious, the rare times she revealed it.
Mostly she studied the people and world around her, somehow both present and detached, all while radiating bone-deep sadness.
Too many centuries had passed since Puck had experienced such heartfelt emotion. Before his possession, he might have sympathized with her--whatever her troubles happened to be--and sought to make things better. Now? He would use her without hesitation. He must.
War before a woman.
"I'm needed elsewhere," William said, and kissed her cheek.
Puck scrutinized his competition for the female's affections: six-five, solidly built, black hair, blue eyes, handsome if you liked perfection, and soon to be sporting a broken nose if he kissed Puck's future bride again.
Inner slap. To achieve his goals, Puck needed both Gillian and William to cooperate.
"Hades requires my expertise to obliterate Lucifer's newest palace," William continued.
Lucifer. The male's older brother.
Gillian scowled. Soon she would smile. Around William, her moods tended to change lightning fast, as if she wanted to feel one way, but he made her feel another.
"No, you're staying here." Her voice, even laced with a thread of anger, had the power to seduce.
No wonder William had fallen hard for her, and no other.
Puck had actually found the male hundreds of years ago, not long after the Oracles spoke their prophecy. Back then, William had loved no one but himself, forcing Puck to turn his efforts to obtaining the shears of Ananke.
She was the goddess of Bonds, and rumors claimed her shears could sever any spiritual, emotional or physical tie without consequence. Of course, rumors also claimed the artifact severed more than the user bargained for.
What was truth? What was lie?
At first, Puck had contemplated using the shears to sever his bond with the demon. The creature had become a part of him, another heartbeat he needed to survive. Ditching him without penalty...could anything be better?
Why else would the Oracles instruct him to find the shears?
But, if using the shears on Indifference had been the answer to Puck's dilemma, why instruct him to marry Gillian, and recruit William?
What if the shears severed Puck's connection to Indifference, but also his emotions? He would be in worse shape than before. What if he used the shears and died? The artifact might consider death a blessing rather than a consequence.
Too many risks.
In the end, Puck had opted to stick with his original plan, and work with William.
Help me defeat my brother. In return, I'll divorce your female and give her back to you.
Puck returned his gaze to the dark-haired Gillian. She had such lush breasts. A flat stomach, and rounded hips. Long legs meant to wrap around a man's waist--my waist.
His heart beat with renewed determination, as if the organ had come back to life, even though it had never died. As if it said, I've been waiting for her.
His ears rang as his blood turned to fuel. He sizzled, hungered and craved, and shot as hard as a rock, his erection straining against his fly.
Want to touch her skin. Would she burn him alive? What a way to go.
Want to kiss those plump red lips. Would she taste as sweet as sugar, as he suspected? Must know.
Did she have the power to make him come? Really must kno
w.
He gnashed his teeth. The answers didn't matter. He needed to utilize his famous control.
Too late. Indifference already clawed through his mind, making him feel as if he were hemorrhaging internally.
Time for ice. Puck hesitated...then issued the summons.
Nowadays he almost always hesitated to use magic to put his thoughts and feelings in a literal deep freeze. Not because using magic outside of Amaranthia required an extra boost of energy--it did--but because he became a savage killer without mercy or regret.
Like you weren't a savage killer before?
He wouldn't soften until the ice cracked or thawed, a process he couldn't control. Instead, he had to wait for something or someone to prick an emotion strong enough to shatter--or hot enough to burn.
If the ice remained, he could lose interest in his goals.
