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Authors: Christina Phillips

Tags: #Erotica

Bloodlust Denied (9 page)

BOOK: Bloodlust Denied
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“Tell me.” His voice was persuasive.

“I’ll tell you nothing while you keep me prisoner.”

He shifted on the bed, his lean hip settling more comfortably against the dip of her waist. From this angle, she could knee him in the ribs. With any other man, she could be certain of breaking bones and rendering him helpless while she escaped. But with the duke she was certain of no such thing.

But that was not the real reason she didn’t try to disable him. It was because a despicable part of her did not wish to escape his dark entrapment.

“Did your lover abandon you to this fate?” His tone was conversational. They might have been speaking of an evening recital.

“Certainly not.” She tensed as his finger explored the contour of her breast, circling, ever decreasing, inexorably centering toward her aching peak.

“Did your protector die, and leave you no other choice but whoring?”

She reared off the bed, infuriated she couldn’t slap the arrogance from his face, wrench the words from his throat. “I’m not a whore.”

“Then why did you act like one in the alley?” His finger slipped from her breast, trailed along her rib cage. “You straddled me like the cheapest strumpet and fucked me as if squalid alleys and nameless strangers were all in a night’s work for you.”

The condemnation in his eyes blazed through her, causing heat to stain her cheeks and shame to bloom through her heart. But why should she be ashamed? He had acted no better than her. And yet, because he was a man, he would never see the hypocrisy of his accusation.

She fisted her hands, although she was rapidly losing feeling from her shoulders up. “I thought you were someone else.”

Satisfaction stabbed through her as shock registered in his gaze. She could never wound his feelings as he could hers, but his ego was a fragile thing, easily damaged.

“You—
what
?” His words were low, incredulous. He clearly doubted the veracity of his hearing.

“I was waiting for another.” That much was true. “I mistook you for him.” And so was that.

“And when, precisely, did you realize your mistake?” He no longer caressed her but instead loomed over her, a conquering warlord on the cusp of deciding the fate of his captured slave.

She gave a breathless laugh at the image although there was nothing amusing in the situation. She had always believed a mortal could never kill her, and yet in this moment, that certainty trembled on the precipice of doubt.

And still she couldn’t summon the terror such a catastrophe should engender.

“When I allowed you to enter my body, without severing your spinal column for such conceit.”

Let him think she exaggerated. It made no difference.

His lashes swept over his eyes and for a second she was distracted. Such long, luxurious lashes for a man. So decadent. So…strangely familiar.

He looked at her, and she forgot the eerie sensation of familiarity because there was nothing strange about it. She knew these eyes because of the innumerable dreams she’d had during the countless nights since they had first met.

“Are you a spy, Morana?”

Again she laughed. A spy? How delicious he should think so.

“If I am, I could scarcely admit such to you, could I?”

“I could entice you to admit anything to me if I put my mind to it.” His finger resumed its exploration, circling her taut stomach, teasing her navel, and yet he did not follow the progress of his venture. His gaze never left hers. “What of your fiddler? Is he the assassin, once you have ensnared the enemy with your deadly charms?”

How close to the truth he was.

“Thanatos lures our victims to their fate.” She had the urge to laugh again, but didn’t know why. Didn’t know why she was telling him this, except for the fact it didn’t matter because even if he believed her, there was nothing he could do about it.

Gods, she was dizzy. She tried to flex her fingers but they had disappeared without trace.

“He plays well.” A fleeting scowl marred the duke’s features. “Too well for a mere street fiddler.” His eyes narrowed. “Perhaps you are an obscure member of the gentry after all.”

Once she had been a member of an ancient aristocracy, but had no intention of confessing such to him. “Obscure or not, I’ll be missed if you don’t return me.”

“You may be missed.” He shrugged as if that was of no account. “But you’ll never be found.”

“What makes you so sure?” Why was she asking? No one but Thanatos would miss her. No one but Thanatos would search for her.

There was no question in her mind that he would find her. He had to find her. Neither could survive alone.

But the duke didn’t know that. So how could he be so certain no one had seen them leave together? Had recognized his carriage? Just because he believed she was not related to the Lady Harriet didn’t mean she wasn’t.

For all he knew, Lady Harriet’s men could even now be moments from staging a rescue.

“Because,” he offered her a sardonic smile, “I’m the Duke of Havenshire and my word is law. You could be the Regent’s favorite mistress and still they wouldn’t find you.”

Unease vibrated through her mind as she realized she believed him.

“You’re very sure of yourself.” Her voice was husky. She couldn’t help it. No matter how his arrogance infuriated her, he still fascinated her and she wanted him more than anything she had ever wanted in her life before.

“I’m sure of one thing.” His smoky voice licked around her senses, and she struggled against the sultry ripples of desire that tightened her belly. “Before this night is over you’ll writhe with ecstasy in my arms as you scream with mindless pleasure.”

Her clitoris throbbed at the vision and she tensed her thigh muscles in the vain hope he wouldn’t smell the extent of her arousal. An impossible wish as her desire permeated the cursed bed and she could no sooner control her lust than she could control this maddening man.

“Release me.” The words were barely articulate. “And I’ll more than fulfill your egotistical fantasies.”

His dark head lowered and, without breaking eye contact, he lazily flicked his tongue over her swollen nipple. Damp tremors radiated from the tip of her breast to the center of her wet core and she fought against the overpowering urge to squirm…and lost.

“You’ll fulfill all my fantasies, Morana.” His whisper was a dark caress that flayed her soul. “And you will fulfill them on my terms.”

Chapter Eight

 

Resentment flared, momentarily consuming everything but the knowledge he wouldn’t grant her this one small favor. She twisted her hips, attempting to throw him aside, but he merely grinned and again trailed the tip of his tongue across her treacherous nipple.

“I’ll never scream my pleasure for you.” She’d bite off her tongue first.

His eyes glittered in clear challenge.

“Then let us have a wager, Miss Craven.” He raised his head and his infernal hair made him look like an irresistible fallen angel. Damn him. “If you survive this night without experiencing orgasmic pleasure at my hands, tongue or whatever else I may choose to use upon your body before I release you, then you’re free to go. I won’t stop you.” He looked down at her, demonic amusement evident in every aristocratic plane of his face.

She glared up at him. He knew how aroused she was already, and he had scarcely started.

“And if I fail this challenge?” She knew his terms. How could she not? But that wasn’t what made her brain thunder or her senses pound. It was the knowledge that she didn’t care if she lost, that she wanted to lose, because the thought of being tossed out of his life before another day dawned tortured the hollow center of her beating heart.

“If you fail, you will remain here as my willing guest until I’ve enjoyed my fill of you.” Once again he lowered toward her and his lips brushed across hers, a fleeting caress, filled with arrogant promise.

His words scalded. He would keep her until he tired of her. It was no revelation but to hear him so baldly state his terms roiled her stomach.

She would never surrender. It was unthinkable.

“I have my own terms.”

His eyebrows jerked upward. He clearly hadn’t contemplated such a response. “I’m not open to negotiation, Morana. The wager stands or not.”

She blinked so as not to become hypnotized by his alluring eyes and simply agree with every callous word he uttered. She allowed her lips to curl in what she hoped appeared a scornful sneer. “Should I resist your charms tonight, then whether I leave here or remain at my leisure will be my choice.” Another term occurred to her, and while he stared at her, in obvious astonishment, she added, “And I expect to be treated with respect.”

An odd expression flickered across his features, as though he admired her stand but unwillingly. “Your first term intrigues me greatly. I’m almost sorry we won’t have the need to put it to the test.”

“Do you agree?” She had to know. Although why she thought his word worth anything when he had already broken it once, she couldn’t say.

“Why not? It appears I can’t lose.”

It wasn’t enough. And yet she knew better than to insist because his values were warped, his honor deficient and all she could rely upon was that his fierce pride wouldn’t allow him to default on a wager.

Because she had every intention of winning tonight. She had to, for the sake of her sanity.

She locked her muscles into ridges of immobility as the duke trailed the tips of his fingers along her rib cage. A tantalizing, fleeting touch, which scarcely skimmed her sensitized skin and yet she could feel the caress weaving into her bloodstream, tangling around her senses and spinning through her quivering clitoris.

“Your skin is as soft as the most exotic of Eastern silks.”

“Be silent.” She ground the words between her teeth. It was hard enough to remain in control when he touched her. If he insisted on wrapping that wickedly sensual voice around her, she would be lost.

Damp heat delved into her navel and she strangled a groan as his hair whispered across her belly.

“You taste of honey.” His voice throbbed with desire. “I greatly anticipate consuming your cream.”

Blood thundered in her temples and her thigh muscles trembled with exertion as she tried not to respond to his erotic promise. “Talking isn’t part of this wager.”

She felt his lips curve into a smile against her trembling flesh. “I don’t recall you insisting on silence, my love.”

That was because it hadn’t crossed her mind he would speak to her while attempting to seduce her into losing her mind. She screwed her eyes shut, tried to focus on anything but the duke’s tongue, anything but the sound of his deep, decadent voice. But all she could feel was his touch, and all she could hear was his voice and her erratically pounding heart.

“I’m insisting now.” Begging. Pleading.
Don’t stop
. Gods, she hadn’t said that aloud, had she?

“Too late.” His fingers traced the curve of her hips, slid into the valley of her tightly closed legs and delved through her curls. She dug her teeth into her lip and held her breath, but nothing could prevent the sharp arrows of raw lust from spearing through her quivering pussy.

The duke shifted his weight and against her will, her eyes sprang open to watch him angle himself more comfortably in order to view her.

“Spread your thighs for me. I want to see how wet you are.”

With her last ounce of willpower, she managed to hook her ankles together. He glanced up at her, but instead of anger or impatience at her disobedience, he looked intrigued.

“No.” She would not succumb. She would not allow him to win. She had to assert her rights, collect this wager and only then could she fully surrender herself to his demands.

Instead of insisting, he pulled off his black leather boots before rising from the bed. Despite her best intentions, she couldn’t drag her gaze from his finely sculpted torso, or the sprinkling of dark hair that arrowed down his taut stomach and disappeared into his cream breeches.

“Your eyes tell me what your mouth will not.” He tossed her an insolent smile before loosening his breeches and stripping them from his body.

Her throat closed and her lungs stilled as her damn eyes drank in the magnificence of his erect cock while he stood there basking in her reluctant admiration.

For endless hours, her dreams had taunted her with visions of how he would look naked. And now, in the flesh, her fantasies dissolved. Because the reality was breath stealing and wiped forever the sordid image of their hasty encounter in a squalid back alley.

“Now you will open your legs for me.” He was so sure of his conquest.

“No.” The word breathed through her lips, although she couldn’t think from where she found the strength.

Without another word, the duke straddled her hips and she stared at his broad shoulders and corded back with mounting bemusement. And then her gaze dropped to his lean, tight buttocks and heat flooded through her, pooling between her thighs.

His fingertips scraped along the soles of her feet and she yelped, jerking her legs, ankles springing apart. He continued to tickle her feet, and the agonizing tingles danced over her skin as she squirmed beneath his restraining weight.

BOOK: Bloodlust Denied
10.6Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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