Soul Enslaved (Sons of Wrath Book 3) (19 page)

“What kind of thoughts?”

He stepped forward, casually backing her into the wall. His arms boxed her in, rousing a flutter in Sabelle’s stomach as his much larger frame shadowed hers. “I have a rule, one I’ve taken very seriously, not to mix business and pleasure. But I must confess, you’re making it incredibly difficult for me to follow the rules.” Gavin leaned in, his eyes riveted on her lips.

Her chest puffed with the breath she couldn’t seem to release.

Gavin maintained a completely different persona at the bar. She’d known that just from working for him before. Despite the easy way he’d told
her
to
take a step back and broaden her perspective
, he kept a tight rein when it came to his business affairs. It was also a known fact that, unlike his brothers, he didn’t often indulge in hooking up with his staff.

His tongue swept over his lips as his hand brushed her thigh—a subtle gesture that spread warmth through her body and had her stomach clenching. “As an employee, you belong to me while you’re here. I don’t want you kissing the clientele. Or anyone.”

Sabelle should’ve pushed him away and told him she didn’t belong to anyone, but goddamn, the man made that sound like the most inviting domination she’d ever dreamed. Belonging to Gavin was, all of a sudden, as appealing as belonging to a five star resort club in the tropics. “What a quandary. You’re my boss, and I’m your slaver. Who belongs to whom?”

His eye twitched. “I want to show you something.” He backed away and pressed the button to the fourth floor.

To Sabelle’s knowledge, no waitress had ever been on the fourth floor before. As the elevator opened, she shielded her eyes against the bright white that greeted her.

Gavin’s hand grasped hers, and he guided her toward a door. Inside, Mack, the security guard, sat before a panel of cameras and buttons. Two other guards stood off to the side, sipping coffee.

“Oh, you picked a beaute.” At Mack’s gravelly laugh, Sabelle cleared her throat. “This conniving bastard was full of it.”

Sabelle peered up at the screen, on which Calix sat at a table across from the male in a small, stark-white room.

Mack turned up the volume.

“Tell me what happened this evening.” Calix entwined his fingers, resting his elbows on the table.

“I, uh … came in for some drinks.” Bruises marred Blazer’s face, and he rubbed the heel of his palm against his temple, alongside a line of blood from his nose to his lip. “Fuck, I can’t … can’t even remember what I was drinking.”

“Did you talk to anyone?” Calix asked.

“Yeah, your waitress is a real bitch.” Blazer’s arm lowered to the table.

“Which waitress?”

“The one who seated us.”

“Do you remember anyone else?”

Blazer shrugged. “Just … hanging with my buddies. Then I blacked out. Some fucker must’ve knocked me cold.”

Gavin smirked.

“You didn’t talk to any other females?” Calix’s interrogation kept on.

“No. I was just having a drink, and the next thing I know you’re waking me up. Where are my friends?”

“I’ve spoken with them.” Calix cocked his head back. “They’re waiting to take you home. Do you live close by?”

“Yeah. I’m from Hazel Park.”

Jerk
. “So much for visiting from France.” Sabelle crossed her arms over her chest.

“Good.” Calix’s hands flattened on the table as though laying out a deal the guy had no choice but to accept. “I want you leave. And don’t come back here again.”

“Did I do something wrong?” Blazer asked.

“Yes. And if you come back again, you’ll not be walking out of here alive.” Calix offered a quick glance back at the camera, along with a reassuring jerk of his chin.

Blazer’s gaze lowered. “Whatever I did … sorry.”

Gavin set his hand on Sabelle’s shoulder. “Feel better?”

She nodded. “As long as Calix’s powers are permanent.”

“They are. He doesn’t remember anything beyond Daria seating them.”

“Jesus.” Burying her face in her palms didn’t seem to lessen the embarrassment. “Pat warned me. I’ll never doubt him again.”

“Pat’s seen some shit. We all have.”

“I thought I’d seen everything.” She lowered her hands from her face. “Guess not.”

“The night’s early. I’m sure there’s more shit to be had.” He turned her to face him. “I’ll keep an eye on you, though.”

“Look, I made a mistake, I’ll admit. But I’ve gotten by fine on my own. You don’t need to babysit me out there, Gavin.”

“It’s not babysitting. It’s protecting what’s mine.”

Again, something inside of her begged to argue that she belonged to anyone. Those thoughts were moot, though, where Gavin was concerned, because belonging to him seemed to come with far more freedoms than she was accustomed to. Freedom to get where she needed to go, freedom from assholes who broke into her house late at night, freedom from a job she truly loathed—but most of all, freedom to know she could say or do whatever she had to do, and he’d be there to catch her if she fell on her ass. “We’ll swing by Denya’s later. Just to make sure everything is okay.”

Like he could read her mind. She wanted to wrap her arms around him and hug him. “Thanks for having my back. Again.”

Gavin winked, his mood seeming much lighter than it’d been in the elevator. “That’s how partners in crime roll.”

***

Gavin slouched in his office chair, the glowing green of his absinthe broken by the silky swirls cutting through the fluid. A book of black magic sat opened on his desk, but hell if he could concentrate on it. For one, it’d been written for gaszlas who carried an intimate knowledge of ancient evil. He could have hired one to translate, perhaps even combat the curse, but that would’ve meant a favor in return, and the last thing Gavin wanted was another debt.

Secondly, his mind kept punishing him with the flashbacks of Sabelle kissing another male. Not even deep, calming breaths could keep his rattled nerves in check. He watched Sabelle on a small screen atop his desk, as she went about, marveling the dips and sways as she flawlessly slipped through the crowd with finesse. Leather shorts hugged those curvy hips, that small, tight waist, and her perfect globes peeked from the V in the neck of her shirt.

The events of earlier nagged his ass. Something had happened out there. Scratch that, something had happened right inside his own fucking body. Gavin had always been the cool, calm and logical brother of the brood. Yet, one minute he’d sat catching up on paperwork—the next, he’d been pummeling a demon’s face. Had Calix not arrived to stop him, he’d have probably beaten the male to death.

Visuals of the guy kissing Sabelle burned holes in his skull, and Gavin squinted his eyes. Her lips on another man’s, his tongue exploring, tasting her, savoring her kiss as though he had earned the right to do so.

Flexing and fisting his hand beside him didn’t seem to abate the urge to punch something again—as if his less-than-logical doppelganger lived somewhere deep in his soul, vying for domination and overpowering all his good sense.

Gavin swiped the papers off his desk and pounded his fist against the wood. An indentation cracked the perfect finish, and he let out a long exhale, rubbing a hand down his face. Red reflected in green of his drink, still sitting on the desktop. As he flexed again, his swelling hands turned red with angry heat.

’The hell is happening to me?

Sure, his Savidon might be in full swing, but Gavin couldn’t seem to think beyond Sabelle. In only a
couple
of days, the woman had begun to drive him mad with lust, crazy with possession, and insane with the need to own her. So much so, he’d made a point to hire her as
his
employee.

Why Sabelle? The woman who’d enslaved him. He’d made a vow not to fall victim to her trickery. Her charm.

That kiss, though. It’d unhinged him. Turned him into a jealous, raving lunatic. His body had somehow convinced itself that Sabelle belonged to him and
only
him, and that fucking kiss set him off.

She didn’t. Gavin didn’t stake a claim on women. He fucked them and set them free.

The pandemonium inside his head had clearly begun to affect his rational sense. How else could he explain the absolute thrilling thoughts of tearing limbs from that rotten bastard?

That kiss would have led to more. More of what Gavin himself fantasized doing with her.

A throbbing ache lured his hands down to the hardened bulge in his slacks. Turned on again. Something about Sabelle seemed to have a direct connection with his dick, because even a fleeting thought of her naked curves spurred pain. Jealousy. Rage.

If he planned to survive his enslavement, he had to get her out of his system. Had to fuck her right out of his head, without actually fucking
her
. Much as he’d have reveled in her unbridled screams of passion, the sexual magnetism between them was too strong and Gavin simply couldn’t trust his instincts. No matter what his body craved, his mind knew claiming her would be a mistake.

Gavin pressed the button to the bar, watching Pat on-screen answer the phone. “Please send Cherie to my office, Pat.”

The brothers had hired Cherie a while back. Zeke’d insisted. Tall, blonde hair, curvy figure and bright red lips made Gavin think of an actual cherry every time he saw her. Having caught her once, giving a customer head in the men’s bathroom, had broken any notion that she was as innocent as her pale blue eyes and wide smile might’ve suggested. She’d hit on him a few times before he’d left for Obsidius, a relentless pursuit, but Gavin had never gone for the bait. Christ, he’d had enough trouble.

Trouble.

Tendrils of guilt wormed inside his stomach. He’d sworn off women. Even sex with no strings attached. Another rape accusation, he could do without.

The ache in his balls intensified as Sabelle passed by the camera, breasts bouncing as she hustled toward the bar. He bent forward, hand flat against the desktop, the other holding tight to his rock hard erection. His fangs nicked his lip, and Gavin sucked the salty blood.

Not again.

The door inched open, and Cherie’s pale-skinned face peeked inside, framed by a blonde curtain.

Gavin released himself and straightened his posture, as she stepped into his office, taking in her toned thighs, as she closed the door behind her, her pert breasts free of a bra.

Red stilettos crossed over one another as she sauntered toward his desk. “You wanted me, sir?”

Gavin did his best to ignore the hardening of her nipples and the fact he could make out their shape perfectly through her clingy top. His breathing hastened with visuals of suckling them.

Make her leave
.

It’d been stupid of him to call her up. Who the hell knew what kind of debauchery his curse might incite.

He sniffed, his fingertips pressed against the desk, when he picked up a hint of arousal pervading the air. “Just wanted to make sure you’re adjusting well here,” he said, making up a quick cover for having called her upstairs. “Getting along with everyone.” A flicker of disappointment dancing across her eyes, she cleared her throat. “I’m adjusting to everyone.” She tipped her head. “Except you.”

“Oh?” He didn’t bother to say more. His goal for the next thirty seconds would be dismissing her from his office. Fast.

“Well, you’re the
big
man, from what I understand. The boss of all bosses. Just haven’t had any quality time alone with you. To get to know you.” She dragged a finger across the veneer as she rounded his desk and licked her lips. “I could use some advice. Perhaps you might be willing to give me a tip?”

His dick lurched at the question, his own tip straining against his slacks. The familiar tingles traipsed his spine, and Gavin’s muscles tensed. It was happening. The sting in his veins told him the beast had caught on to her flirtations.

Reaching his side, she leaned against his desk, and tugged at the shoulder of her shirt until a nipple popped out of the V neck. “I can’t seem to keep these damn things contained. They’re so hard all the time.” Her knee made a slow glide across his cock.

“I’d wear a bra but that’s way too constricting. I like to feel them bounce when I walk.” She bit her lip. “Makes me think of rough sex.”

Fuck me
. Focus. He forced a visual of his tortures in Obsidius, knives gouging his flesh, but not even
that
could override the changes taking place inside his body. The thickening of his muscles. The heat scorching his veins. “How frustrating that must be.”

She blew out a laugh. “I’m sorry.” Her shoulders rolled back, as she pushed her chest outward toward him, like an offering. “Do you mind putting it back for me? Every time I touch them, I think of you, and … it only makes them harder.”

Gavin glanced toward the screen, on which Sabelle stood propped against the bar, her leg fidgeting as she smiled and laughed with Pat.

The sight almost unraveled him. The red glow framed his view, as he took in the perfect tone of Sabelle’s skin—a pale copper that came from time spent in the summer sun—the winding curves, tits to ass, and that delicious crook in her neck where his teeth could glide through her flawless skin like butter.

He gritted his teeth.
Reel it in, man.

“Redhead, huh?”

His gaze flicked back to Cherie.

Her nipple still peeked from her shirt, as she twirled a lock of her hair. “Why did you call me up here, Mr. Wrath?”

Because Wrath Enterprises happened to be the corporate name for the company, many of the employees made the mistake of assuming it to be a surname, versus the namesake of a fierce and unforgiving demon prince of the underworld—Gavin’s father.

“My apologies,” he said. “You may go.”

“I don’t want to go.” She turned around and bent forward, resting her chin against her palm atop his desk. “I want to come.” Her body rocked forward, the way it would if Gavin was rocking
into
her.

On any other night, Gavin would have easily pinned her to his desk and fucked her mercilessly while watching Sabelle on camera. No guilt. No conscience. Just fucking. That happened to be the beauty of casual sex: no strings attached to anything—his dick, his head, or his heart. Staying with Sabelle seemed to be forging ties he hadn’t expected, though.