Cruel Enchantment (13 page)

“You won’t hurt me.”

His jaw locked. “Hurting you is not on my agenda.” He stroked one of her nipples until her knees went weak. “I want to watch you come. I want to touch you. I want my cock inside you.” He paused and his voice got lower, rougher. “But don’t make the mistake of thinking I’m a good man, Emmaline.”

He lowered his mouth to one of her nipples and sucked the rigid peak into his mouth. Her breath hissed out of her and her back arched. The effect was that she pushed into him, offering herself to him. Freeing her wrists, he cupped the other breast in his work-calloused hand and brushed his thumb back and forth across her nipple, making a moan struggle up from her throat.

He worked the nipple in his mouth with his tongue, flicking the tip and alternately scraping his teeth over it. Pleasure coursed through her, centering between her thighs. Her clit felt huge and ultrasensitive. One stroke of his hand between her thighs and she would come. She would quake and shiver and moan his name like some silly virgin in the hands of a sexual master—and all he was doing was touching her breasts.

God, she hated this. If she had any backbone—any pride, like he’d said—she’d push him away instead of rubbing up against him like a cat in heat, desperate for more contact from this man
who hated her
.

The far-too-large-for-her sweatpants, which she constantly had to yank up, finally fell down, puddling around her ankles and leaving her totally nude and vulnerable. His breath caught as he realized what had happened and he stilled. Then he made a low, guttural sound at the back of his throat. A sound of desire and of need.

Roughly, he forced her thighs apart and his hand between them. His fingers slicked over her, finding her hot and wet. She shuddered when he found her entrance. Two big, broad fingers pushed deep inside her, forcing her muscles to stretch and filling her up. He thrust hard and fast. No slow easing of the way. No gentleness. This was raw. This was a total possession of the most intimate part of her body.

The cry of surprise she gave ended in a moan. Her knees weak, she clung to his shoulders, holding herself up as he rocked her against the wall with every inward thrust. The pleasure pouring into her body, along with a healthy dollop of total shock, cleared her brain of all thoughts. Soon she was nothing but animalistic sexual need.

He buried his face in her hair, the fabric of his shirt rasping against her bare breasts and her sensitive nipples. The angle of his hand changed a little, his fingertips dragging over some spot deep inside her that felt so good it brought her right up against the threshold of an orgasm.

“Come for me,” he murmured near her ear. “I want to feel you come, Emmaline.”

Her climax crashed over her. Pleasure racked her body in wave after wave that made her bones feel like butter. Moans tore from her throat, making it sore. Her sex milked his thrusting fingers as it washed through her, stealing her thought and almost her ability to stand. She squeezed her eyes shut and dug her fingernails into his shoulders hard enough to draw blood, in part to keep her balance, in part to punish him for doing this to her.

Panting as the last of the orgasm shivered through her, she opened her eyes and sagged back against the wall.

He stared at her, a feral look on his already savage face. His gaze took her whole body in, his fists clenching at his sides. She knew what she must look like, nipples hard and red from his mouth, legs parted, sex swollen and needy, the fair skin of her chest, stomach, and thighs reddened from the rough brush of his clothing, her eyelids heavy with sexual satisfaction and lust. The way he looked at her, it was like he was trying to stop himself from dragging his pants down, pushing her thighs apart, and fucking her right here and now.

It was a battle she hoped he would lose. She would take this man any way he wanted to come to her, even though a part of her hated him for doing this, for making her feel so helpless and so fucking weak. He raised his gaze to hers and saw the accusation in her eyes.

Swearing under his breath, he turned her roughly to face the wall—maybe so he didn’t have to look at her—and pressed her against it. It was cold and rough against her bare skin and her erect nipples. She heard the sound of the zipper of his jeans being lowered, the rustle of fabric. He kicked her feet apart, angled her hips so her rear thrust out. Then he was there behind her, his body heat and the press of his cock against the vulnerable flesh of her sex.

Nothing.

The wide and rock-hard shaft of his cock nestled flush against her opening, the head butting up against her swollen clit.

But he did nothing.

A part of her thrilled, hoped he would stop, that he would have the strength to say no to this when she just simply didn’t. A part of her died, hoping he would reposition himself, sink deep inside her, and ride them both to heaven and back.

He moved a little, hands on her hips, and then stopped. A vituperative stream of Old Maejian tore from his lips. He moved his pelvis away from hers, his hand slipping down over her abdomen, sliding between her thighs from the front.

With a sob of pure need, she ground herself against his fingers. He petted her aching sex, stroked her clit until she came apart again. He was gone before it was over, leaving her to slump down the wall to the floor, still shuddering under the tail end of the power of her second climax.

Fists clenched at his sides, he watched her shiver and quake on the floor, caught in the throes of the pleasure he’d given her. Breasts still bare, clothing in piles around her, she was sure she was quite a sight.

When she finally could, she looked up at him. He’d already buttoned his jeans. What she saw on his face made her cover her breasts and curl into herself. Anger and lust all rolled into one, his expression was brutal.

She pushed into a sitting position. “What are you thinking?” The words came out before she’d thought them through—typical. She wasn’t sure wanted to know the answer to that question.

His expression darkened. “I’m thinking about all the different ways I want to fuck you and how I can stop myself from doing it.” Then he turned and left the forge.

She watched him leave the room and then slumped down again in relief. This was crazy and out of control and it needed to end now. She could not do this.

She needed to find her willpower where this man was concerned.

This may have been a one-time thing, some sort of strange temporary blip in the universe. Maybe it would never happen again. After all,
unpredictable
and
volatile
were terms that Aeric owned. But if it did happen again, she had to be ready. She couldn’t give in to him like some pathetic doormat happily ready to wear the marks of his boots.

She needed to find her self-respect and soon. She needed to make it stronger than her desire for that man.

It was a matter of survival. Her heart couldn’t take him touching her without caring for her, too. She couldn’t endure his hands on her, his cock inside her, while he wore an expression like he’d just been wearing. She didn’t want anger and hatred from him.

It would kill her more effectively than any of the weapons hanging around her.

Thinking about what had just happened, she fisted her hands, her rage building to a fine trembling in her limbs. How dare he take advantage of her like that? At the moment she couldn’t decide who she disliked more—herself or him.

 

 

“I
can’t believe you’ve only been here two weeks and you’ve already hooked up with a woman. I want that kind of luck.” Calum’s huge voice boomed through the hotel suite.

Calum, one of David’s closest friends—and Emmaline’s—had come in from the States that morning to act as another pair of eyes and ears during Emmaline’s strange absence. Calum’s arrival demonstrated that the HFF was becoming concerned, too.

David was glad that he was here for more reasons than one.

He’d gone back to the coffee shop to take advantage of the Internet and the beautiful woman who’d given him the free drink who had been working at the counter. She’d given off every signal known to man of a woman smitten, yet shy. His resolve to stay on task had weakened and he’d struck up a conversation with her. Turned out the conversation had serious legs. David liked her. A lot.

David gave himself a final check in the mirror hanging on the wall of his posh hotel suite. The HFF was funded by a few mysterious and deep-pocketed individuals. They only gave their operatives the best. “You’ll be able to tell if she’s linked to the Phaendir in any way, won’t you?”

Calum nodded, shifting his enormous body on the couch. “If she’s got the stink of the Phaendir on her, I’ll smell it. If she’s fae, I’ll know it. When she gets here, I’ll check her out.”

Calum was trooping fae, not enough Tuatha Dé blood to make him Seelie and no dark magick to make him Unseelie. Calum was just Calum—a geek who also happened to be fae. He was a fae scholar, who sometimes worked in the archives of the old fae tomes the HFF kept in Ireland. Calum was the one who’d deciphered the Old Maejian on the box and who had made the mock key that Emmaline had carried into Piefferburg for the Blacksmith. His magick was light and harmless—the only thing he could do was sense other fae and the Phaendir—and anyone who had the stink of the Phaendir on them. It was how he’d avoided the Great Sweep.

“If I give you a thumbs-up, you’ll know she’s all right,” Calum finished. “No fae, no ties to the Phaendir.”

At this point, it would break David’s heart if Kiya turned out dirty in some way. Maybe he was being overly cautious. Of course, in times like these, playing for stakes this high, there wasn’t any such thing as overly cautious.

David was smitten with her. Probably a little more than he should be, since he was leaving soon and she would remain almost halfway around the goddamn world. He couldn’t seem to help it, though.

Her name was Kiya and she was an Egyptian immigrant who had come from a rich family and attended boarding school in the U.K. as she grew up. Now estranged from her parents for reasons she wouldn’t discuss, she lived and worked in Haifa while contemplating what she would do with the rest of her life.

He’d wooed her for a couple days, turning on his charm at the counter while she laughed and filled orders. After all, apparently he had time to kill. Why not make the best of it? Finally she’d accepted a dinner invitation. Now he was in his hotel room with Calum, waiting for her to arrive.

Calum rose from the couch and clapped him on the back. It hurt. Calum was a big guy with a heavy beard, a mustache, and a bald head. What he lacked in hair on his head, he made up for in muscle. “Don’t look so worried. I’m sure Kiya’s fine. No sense in you sitting around here in the hotel room twiddling your thumbs while we wait for Emmaline. If you have a hot woman, you might as well get out there and spend some time with her. I haven’t seen you date anyone since the divorce.”

Someone knocked on the hotel room door.

“Ah, it’s the hot woman,” Calum said with a wink.

David let her in. She was dressed in a filmy blue and white dress and her hair was pinned up against the warm weather, dark, loose tendrils falling around her slender neck. He had a sudden urge to lean in and nibble on that expanse of coffee-and-cream-colored skin. God, she was beautiful.

She looked surprised to see Calum. “Hello.”

Calum reached out to shake her hand and she took it. “Hi, I’m a colleague of David’s,” he said with a smile. “Here in town on business. Nice to meet you.”

She favored him with a dazzling smile. “Very nice to meet you. I hope you enjoy your stay in our city, Calum.”

Calum broke the handshake and gave the thumbs-up signal with a knowing wink at David. “You two have fun tonight.”

David let out the breath he’d been holding. Of course she was clean.

“You don’t want to come along, Calum?” Kiya asked. “We have room at our table for one more.”

“No, thanks. I feel worse than a whore with—” He bit off his sentence and cleared his throat. “I mean I’m pretty jet-lagged.”

“Oh. All right, well, I hope you get some rest, then.”

David put his hand on Kiya’s waist—a thing he was more than happy to do—and led her out the door. “Don’t wait up for me, Calum,” David called over his shoulder.

“Wouldn’t dream of it.”

Making small talk, they traveled the not very pretty, but oddly compelling, streets of Haifa to a nearby Ashkenazi restaurant, where they settled down to an amazing array of sweet and salty dishes flavored with aromatic spices.

“So, what business brings you and Calum to Haifa?” Kiya asked. “I asked you before, but you never really did answer my question.”

Yeah, no kidding. Time for some creative white-lying.

“I’m here because I’m an archaeologist and a diver. I intend to explore the ruins of Atlit Yam. Calum is a scholar. He’s studying some of the artifacts that have been found around the site.”

“Oh.” She leaned forward, her eyes sparkling with interest. “How exciting.”

“I’m looking forward to it.”

“How long will you be in Israel?”

“My time here is open-ended. I’m not really sure when I’ll go back to the States. Depends on when we get clearance to dive and what we find down there.” Clearance wasn’t in their program, of course. They just needed that fucking key.

She glanced at his ring hand. “So you have no wife back in the States who is anxiously awaiting your return?”

He looked down at his hand. There was still a thin white mark from his wedding band.
Ah.
He’d only recently taken it off, though his marriage had ended three years earlier. The question convinced him that she was interested in him. It seemed designed to make sure he wasn’t concealing a marriage, by forcing him to answer this question directly.

He reached across the table and covered her hand with his. “I wouldn’t have asked you to dinner tonight if I were married. I am not that kind of man.”