His fingers were past the panties now, gliding over hot, silky skin as his own desire roiled, his cock more than eager to replace his touch.
But annoyance buzzed through his chest like an angry hornet.
Why the fuck had her words bothered him so much? One and done, whispered on a breathy moan? Never mention it again? It was practically Gabriel’s mating call.
But something about Jacinda was spreading through his veins like the very poison she’d mastered in her craft, and he no longer cared if it killed him. Whether his death came as a slow, plodding torture or in a brutal flash of violence, it mattered not—so long as he could first take his time claiming this infernal witch in all the dark, wicked ways he wanted her.
Death whispered against the back of his neck. Taunted him.
He thought of his brother Malcolm. Blood and ash. Thought of his father, the fallen king. Thought of his nightmares, his memories, his victims, his ghosts.
A growl vibrated through his chest, and he spun her around and pushed her face-forward against the wine rack, flipping up the bottom of her dress and shoving aside the thong. He slid two fingers inside, damn near moaning at the feel of her, wet and willing, the molten fire of her body an inferno that promised a deeply satisfying end to his eternal suffering.
“If I ever invite you into my bed,” he whispered, “the things I’ll do to you there will not be quick. They’ll not be polite. And you can call it a one-and-done deal all you’d like, but I promise you, witch. The only word you’ll be uttering when I’m through with you ismore.”
He thrust in deeper, making her whimper. A slow tremor began in her thighs, and she gripped the shelving for balance as Gabriel stroked and teased, wine bottles clinking above and below.
“Damn, you’re… That’s just…Wow,” she breathed, and he grinned, knowing he was weaving his own sort of spell. With every teasing thrust, every deep slide, he enticed her closer to the edge, ready to shatter at his command.
He slid his other hand around the front, grazing her clit.
Jacinda gasped. “Oh, God. I’m… I’m going to—”
“No, you’re not.” He licked the shell of her ear and stilled his fingers, the warning in his tone as dark and deadly as the broken-glass wine. “Iownthis body now, little moonflower. I own the breath in your lungs, the beat of your heart, the quake in your thighs. Every cry of pleasure, every desperate moan, every gasp of exquisite torment belongs to me, and you’ll come only when I bloody wellcommandyou to come. Is that understood?”
Shivering in his hands, panting, Jacinda turned her head to glare at him over her shoulder.
The witch didnotunderstand—that much was clear. Her eyes blazed with that familiar blue fury, her brow furrowed, her mouth parting to tell himexactlywhat she thought of his so-called commands.
Gabriel could hardly wait for the fight.
He feathered across her clit once more, and again, the witch lost all her words.
She turned away from him on a soft sigh, her body surrendering even as her mind railed against it.
Gabriel stifled a laugh.
“I see,” he said, slowly working her again. She melted into his touch, riding him, taking him in deeper, wanting more, desperately chasing that elusive release. He knew when she was close again—her blood sang with it, the telltale tremor rolling through her thighs in earnest, her breath ragged, her soft little moans growing louder.
Gabriel slowed his thrusts, dragging out her pleasure as well as his own.
“The dark witch likes to play games?” he murmured, drawing circles on her clit, harder and faster as he slid deeper inside. “So does the vampire. Guess who’s going to win?”
“You’re… such an asshole,” she panted, still writhing at his touch, arching her hips back to draw him in deeper.
“This is true,” he admitted. “But one who makes you wet nevertheless.”
“I knew this was a terrible idea.”
That annoying hornet buzzed through his chest once more.
“Yes, you’re having a right terrible time of it, aren’t you?” He quickened the pace of his circling, his thrusting, pushing her closer to the breaking point.
Jacinda gripped the shelves so tightly her fingertips paled. “Go… go fuck yourself, Prince.”
“Fuckmyself? That’s not where I saw this going at all.” Though it was almost physically painful to let her go, Gabriel was tired of her games. Her insults. He disentangled himself and took a step backward.
Bloodyhellhow he wanted to slide his fingers into his mouth, to taste her.
