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Her fingers traced the line of his jaw, sliding behind his neck under his hair, caressing the sensitive nape so he shuddered in response. Gabriel could imagine the taste of her, the contrast of her hot mouth and cool, silken skin, and he wanted nothing more than to kiss her, to sink into her fire, stroke her curves and hear the gasps and moans of pleasure as she’d voiced so sweetly that night.
She melted against him, mirroring desire in her eyes. “Gabriel…” She almost whimpered his name, and in her eyes he also caught the glint of fear.
Fear, because that sweet yielding in her tower room hadn’t been real. She’d been trapped with no options, and she’d given him what he expected of her. What he’d told her he wanted, as she’d been ruthlessly trained by that vile Convocation Academy to do. She’d faked her pleasure, since he’d been so determined for her to give him that, too.Use me.
And, oh, how he wanted to.
Which was the worst realization of all. But he refused to be that person. He’d reconciled himself to being a wizard because it meant restoring his house—and because the magic used him if he didn’t use it—but he wouldn’t turn this fiery woman into a tool and a pet.
It took everything in him, but he unwound her from his arms and, taking her firmly by the shoulders, set her away from him. Surprise flickered over her face—and she blushed as stark reality cooled the heady desire that had nearly swept them both away.
He cleared his throat and raked his wet hair back from his face. They were both soaked through. “Are you hurt besides the bite on your arm?” he asked, the words coming out stiffly formal.
She lifted the hand and stared at it, as if she’d forgotten. “I don’t think so. Are you?”
He grimaced, feeling it now. “I may have torn out some stitches.”
“Inytta would be displeased,” she replied, a glimmer of dry humor in it.
“You go in and clean that bite, get dry. I’ll take care of these.” He gestured at the ungainly piles of meat, bone, and hair, the hunters he’d boiled alive—and that were beginning to twitch with life, impossible as it seemed. Though these creations were abhorrent, whatever enchantment gave them enduring life would be a useful one to know. “And I should check on Vale.”
“He has a wound that needs tending,” she agreed. “I can do that.”
“No,” he said, too harshly because she flinched. He needed some time away from her, but he hadn’t meant to sound mean. “You go take care of yourself.”
She gave him an opaque look. “I hear and obey, Lord Phel.” She turned to go, the peasant clothes hanging wet and heavy on her elegant frame, and she still managed to look like a queen. An offended one.
His fingers twitched, and he nearly reached to catch her arm. To say… what? He had no idea what to say. She glided to the cabin without a backward glance. Then she popped back around the corner, catching him staring after her like a lovelorn and abandoned puppy.
“There are remains in here, also,” she informed him, “since you volunteered for disposal duty.”
“I’ll get a shovel,” he promised. There was one by the manger, he recalled, meant for shoveling livestock manure. It ought to work fine for this purpose.
She inclined her chin in cool acknowledgment, then disappeared again. This time, she didn’t return.
Nic kicked atthe broken glass from the shattered porthole, using the side of her boot to scrape the shards into the corner as best as possible—wishing she had a little house spirit to do the job. Fortunately, a hinged door intended to cover the porthole let her close off the flow of cold air. She dragged one of the benches to straddle the pile of goo that had been the rooftop hunter, so she wouldn’t accidentally step in the disgusting stuff. The space was small enough that it was a clear danger, and she’d had about enough of being slimed. All she needed was to humiliate herself even more.
“What iswrongwith you?” she muttered to herself, though she knew the answer full well. She was completely Fascinated with Gabriel. She’d yielded up her magic to him—voluntarily—and now she could never go back. The copper snake around her wrist seemed to wink at her knowingly, and she pulled it off with a huff of disgust, tempted to hurl it against the wall. It wouldn’t work to stop her Fascination now—if it ever could have. A lot to ask of a pretty bit of jewelry.
She stripped off her filthy and sodden clothes, even though she didn’t have much else to wear at this point. She’d learned from experience that the hunter goo didn’t come out. Even Missus Ryma’s excellent launderers hadn’t been able to get her other clothes clean, and this had been her last decent set. Maybe she could piece some things together. Naked, she began sponge bathing herself with Gabriel’s never-ending fresh water supply, sluicing the bite wound generously. While she was grateful to be able to use as much water as she needed to, it was seriously chilly. The luxurious hot bath of the night before felt like it had happened in another lifetime. There wouldn’t be any cozy inn at the end of this miserable day.
Shivering, she regretted she hadn’t gotten out the fire elemental before she undressed, but she’d felt so filthy and… yes, too humiliated to think straight. She’d just had to throw herself at the wizard, hadn’t she? “Oh, Gabriel,” she mimicked herself ruthlessly, making it extra breathy. How fast the mighty had fallen, eh? In the space of an hour, she’d gone from determined resolve to avoid the man as much as possible to practically humping his thigh and begging him to kiss her.
An offer he’d refused with a cold expression as he pried her off of him.
A knock came on the door. As if there weren’t just the two of them on this huge barge. “Come in,” she bit out.
Gabriel opened the door, entered with a shovel, and stood there looking as if she’d hit him with it. “Ah, um, I beg your pardon,” he stammered, quickly averting his gaze from her nakedness.
She didn’t bother to point out—again—that he’d seen it all before. Or that she clearly didn’t care either way. Instead she pointed at the pile of soiled clothes. “You can scoop those overboard, too.”
“I hear and obey, Lady Veronica Elal,” he answered, echoing her own words in a bitingly faux-humble voice, tempting her to kick him.
“Phel,” she corrected crisply. He might have rejected her just now, but he was stuck with her. “If you’re going to mock me, at least acknowledge that I’m Lady Phel now, whether either of us likes it or not.”
Gabriel didn’t comment, simply finished scraping the goo and her former clothes together, then left again. Nic wrapped herself in the blanket, now that she was as clean as possible. She’d have to borrow a shirt from Gabriel, which meant she’d have to ask him for it—something that really went against the grain, especially right then. But she shouldn’t put one on until her arm stopped bleeding anyway.
She eyed the stain on the floor, no doubt the source of the remaining stink in the air. Probably the goo taint wouldn’t come out of wood any more than clothes. Why that small problem tipped her over the edge emotionally, she didn’t know, but it all felt abruptly overwhelming. Exhaustion turned her limbs liquid, and she sat with an ungraceful thump. The furor of the fight was fading away. That, compounded by the drain from all the magic she’d given Gabriel, had left her empty. She’d practiced magic transference before, naturally, and she’d been top of her class at Convocation Academy, much praised by her teachers for her meticulous technique in offering up a channel for the wizards to pull from.
