by Kat Ross
“No, no…. Not so fast, little beast.”
Gabriel lowered her down, but only the tiniest bit.
“I’ve wanted you for so long,” he murmured. “Dreaming of you. Your smile, your ears….” He took a lobe between his teeth.
He suspended her above him, giving her himself a fraction at a time as he always had, ignoring her pleas with an iron discipline that she wanted to shatter into a thousand pieces.
And then, after long minutes of this outrageous teasing….
“I’ve taken all I can hold of you,” she gasped.
Gabriel stopped. She pressed her face to his damp neck, half-wild from the deep, aching throb of him between her legs. He lowered his head and kissed her, a lazy, eternal kiss. Then his hands remorselessly guided her down again, his voice coaxing and thick with need.
“Just a little more, Anne…. Only a little….”
Gabriel exhaled a shuddering breath as he thrust home.
His head fell back, exposing a column of pale throat, and Anne kissed the place where the Beast had nearly torn him open, felt the hot vein pulsing just beneath the skin, tasted the salt of his sweat.
Only to stay like this forever….
Small tremors ran through him, every muscle ratcheted tight, palms rough against her bottom as his hips moved in a slow grind.
“All of me,” Gabriel whispered, his voice uneven. “Will you take it all, Anne?”
He meant not the part of him that pressed her to the wall but his madness and passion and his bloody, bloody hands.
Yes. Yes. Yes, she whispered back. I will.
The chill air raised her breasts to hard peaks and they brushed his chest, only the slightest touch, but it broke her. Waves of pleasure so sharp they might have been pain wracked her body, cresting and building again. She clamped down on him and he cried her name, howled it through the empty halls of Chateau de Saint-Évreux.
Gabriel’s legs were shaking like autumn leaves as he eased her down and buried his face in her hair. He braced one arm against the wall, the other pulling her close. He smelled like the forest, like pine and moss and cool streams.
And sex.
He gave a hoarse laugh. “Okay, I could wait another three hundred years for that.”
She took Gabriel by the hand and he allowed her to lead him up the stairs, docile as a child. When they reached her bedroom and crawled beneath the blankets, she thought he would collapse into slumber. But he started kissing her again, cupping the curls between her legs, stroking her with a practiced hand.
Anne gave a low laugh. “I’m sore, Gabriel. It’s been … a long time.”
“My poor darling.” He didn’t sound very sorry. “For me as well. I’ll have to make it better then.” Gabriel took the rosy bud of a breast in his mouth, his weight pressing her into the goosedown mattress. Anne ran her hands down the taut lines of his back, the hard curve of his buttocks.
“Nom de dieu, Gabriel,” she whispered in his ear. “You were nearly dead last night. Haven’t you had enough?”
His brown eyes lifted to hers, gentle and warm. The Father Gavra eyes, Anne thought — though there was nothing saintly in the look he gave her.
“I’ll never have enough of you, Anne. Never enough….”
His tongue returned to her breast, then moved down with excruciating slowness, finally parting the tender flesh between her legs. She slid her fingers into his hair and gripped it as she felt herself nearing the precipice again.
And will he take all of me?
Anne sat up, her cheeks flushed, pulling away from his mouth. “Not so fast, ma Belle.”
This time, she made him lie on his back and she had her way with him exactly as she pleased, sometimes sweet and slow, other times hard and brutal, toying with him as mercilessly as he had done with her, until they both lay in a spent tangle, the blankets hurled to the floor and the bed having moved a good four paces from where it started.
“Tell me about The Chymical Wedding of Christian Rosenkreutz,” she said, tracing his full lower lip. Gabriel employed that lip to great effect when he sulked, or curled it in scorn, but now it was soft and pliant beneath her fingertip.
He glanced at her. “You found it?” He gave a purring sigh. “It came to me in a vision. A beautiful dream of a better world.” He was quiet for a moment. “I don’t remember much about my early childhood. It was so long ago. But I have a single memory of standing on the shore of the Bay of Biscay, the water lapping at my feet. I must have been very young. It’s one of the things I liked about this place when I bought it. The view of the water.”
Gabriel’s voice grew drowsy. “After I deserted from Neblis’s army, I came home to Gaul. My family was all long dead but I had nowhere else to go, so I stayed, watching the Roman Empire fall and Christendom rise under the Emperor Constantine. For a long time, I lived aimlessly, day to day.”
Anne laid her cheek against his chest, listening to the soft beat of his heart as he idly stroked her hair.
“I tried to hunt only evil men, rapists, murderers and the like. I haunted the lowest wine sinks where such creatures were most often found. I grew soulless, Anne. Despairing. Empty. Was I truly any better than my victims? And then one day, I was in Rouen and I passed the great cathedral there. Something made me go inside.”
“I’ve seen it,” she said softly. “It’s beautiful.”
“Yes. In truth, I was trying to find the courage to end my life. Seeking some final forgiveness for my sins before I did the deed. I knelt down in the pews and prayed.” He laughed. “I wasn’t even sure who it was I prayed to, but in the hush of that great building I sensed a … presence. A presence of grace. Of unconditional love. My burdens lifted. I felt reborn, a child of God again, and resolved to follow a new path. So I joined the Knights Templar. You know the rest.” He paused. “And you, Anne? What did you do after you were freed?”
And she told him of the years she spent traveling among the ancient cities of the world with Alec and Vivienne, sealing and closing the twelve Greater Gates to the Dominion, until she grew restless and started to go her own way.
“Gabriel?”
“Oui?”
His voice was very heavy now.
“I want to bond you.”
The hand stroking her hair tensed. She felt his heartbeat speed up.
He rolled to his side and looked her in the eyes. To Anne’s surprise, he seemed hesitant.
“Are you sure it’s what you want? It can’t be broken, Anne. Only by death.”
“Or transference to another,” she pointed out, though that would be … unimaginable.
He looked away. “Or that.”
She touched his cheek and turned him back to face her. “I am, Gabriel.”
He nodded, his voice ragged at the edges. “If that’s what you want, Anne, I’ll give it to you.”
27
Alec saw a candle in the darkness. Heard approaching footsteps.
Gabriel D’Ange.
He carried a bucket in one hand. D’Ange set it down and gave it a kick. The bucket slid across the stone floor, water sloshing over the edges. Alec cupped his hands and drank deeply. Christ, he was thirsty.
“So,” D’Ange said in a low voice. “Here we are.”
They stared at each other for a long moment.
“All this over a wooden cross?” Alec burst out. He slowly shook his head. “What the hell is wrong with you? You could have just asked—”
“That’s not the point. I invited you into my house. You sat at my table, ate my food, drank my wine, and then you robbed me when my back was turned!”
“You were a murderer,” Alec said coldly.
“And what are you? Two of my brothers are dead. Good men. They wouldn’t have touched you. They had orders only to follow.”
“And not be taken alive. You left me no choice.” Alec calculated the length of the chain, but D’Ange stood just out of reach. “Then you sent wights—”
“I didn’t,” D’Ange snapped. “
I hate fucking wights! That was the fils de pute Constantin. I’m sure he’d already gone over to Bekker.”
Alec stared at him. “Where’s my sister?” he demanded. “If she—”
“You’d be a dead man if not for Anne’s sake. You should have left me alone. Left us alone. I might have given you the other cuff back.” He looked away.
Alec sensed an opening. “I have the cross. Safe. It’s yours.”
Gabriel turned and studied him for a long moment. He seemed … torn.
“Putain,” he muttered, more softly. Alec’s hopes rose. Then he shook his head. “No. I don’t want it anymore.”
“Where is she?” Alec demanded.
“Anne is here.” His gaze flicked to the low ceiling, an almost guilty look on his face. “Of her own accord.” A pause. “I want something else.” His eyes rested on Alec’s cuff. “You can find another set somewhere. And you’ll be freed once I’m gone.”
Alec felt a chill, bone-deep. “It doesn’t come off.”
D’Ange reached into his pocket and Alec tensed, expecting a knife. But he held up a key.
“It’s a funny story. There was a market in Kabul, an old woman selling a tarnished gold bracelet. I recognized the griffin. Useless without the match, but I wasn’t about to leave it there for anyone to find. It came with a key though. From what I remember of the Immortals, all the keys were identical so they could be switched if the daēva fell in battle.” He took out a pair of gloves and slid them on. “Shall we test my theory?”
Alec backed away as far as the chain would allow.
D’Ange stepped forward, moving on the balls of his feet.
“Don’t make me hurt you. This doesn’t have to be hard—”
Alec let out a wild laugh. “No?”
“No. I’ll even give you the one I have. You only have to find a match.”
“They don’t fucking exist anymore!”
He shrugged. “I found one. You just have to look hard.”
He was close now, so close….
The chain slithered across the floor as Alec readied himself.
28
Anne ran the crushed velvet skirts through her fingers, a small smile on her lips. She’d found the dress laid out on their bed. Not black like the one she’d worn when he kissed her hand in Strasbourg that evening so long ago, but forest green with a row of tiny pearl buttons, and she knew Gabriel was telling her that the past was dead, gone, and they had only the future before them. One bright and sweet with promise.
She wanted to thank him for the gift, but he wasn’t in the kitchen or the music room or any of the places he usually went. And then she finally found him in the old ruined chapel, where mourning doves nested in the crossbeams and ivy clung to crevices in the ancient stone. Anne paused in the doorway. Soft light spilled through the stained glass window at the far end of the nave.
Gabriel was on his knees before the altar, head bowed.
And for an instant she saw the Knight Templar of six hundred years ago, the white tunic with the red cross, a long blade at his hip, praying on the eve of battle, and Anne almost envied him his faith. His unwavering certainty.
She lived in a different world, less certain but one with its own delights. She had seen that mermaid in the Zambezi River, and fairies, too. And she longed to share it with him.
Anne watched him for a moment more, then retreated to allow him privacy.
She returned to the house and filled the big claw-footed tub with water warmed from the barrel he always left near the hearth. She’d nearly slipped into a doze when she heard him enter behind her.
Anne lazily bent one knee and let it fall to the side, hoping to goad him into getting in the tub with her. But instead of touching her body, his hands filled her wet hair, lifting it, combing it with his fingers. Warm breath tickled her ear.
“Come away with me, Anne. Tonight.”
She turned her head. “Where?”
“Anywhere. I don’t care.”
“And your cross?”
“Let him keep it.” Gabriel paused. “But we can’t stay. They’ll come looking. I bought this place in my name. They’ll find it. And I … I don’t want to fight them, Anne. They might not believe you chose the bond freely, whatever you say.”
Anne knew the truth of this. Vivienne in particular had always been overprotective. Anne indulged her, but she was no child. She would send a letter. Let everyone cool down a bit before she told them face to face.
“I would go anywhere with you, Gabriel,” she murmured. “Anywhere at all.”
“Mmmm.”
The water sloshed gently in the tub as he soaped a cloth and ran it across her belly.
“I’ll cook for you every day, make you fat and happy. There’s a place I know, oceans away. White sand and the greenest water you ever saw. I’ll catch you fish.”
A slow, aching burn filled her as his knuckles grazed one breast. “And how will we get to this place?”
“A ship will come tonight. I’ll ride into town and make the arrangements.”
She felt him move to stand and caught his wrist. “Don’t go.”
Anne heard a smile in his voice. “Poor darling. So hungry again?”
“Yes. Starving.”
He bent down and kissed her, a kiss that promised all sorts of things … later.
Anne sighed. She touched his cheek. “I’ll bond you under the moon and stars. On the tower.”
Gabriel laughed. “All right.”
He kissed her once more and she heard his light steps retreating down the stairs, the faint thunder of his horse as he galloped down the road.
Anne lay back in the warm water, drowsy and besotted with thoughts of what it would be like to have him afterwards. She had no fear of him anymore. She trusted Gabriel utterly to hold her power with an open hand … and to teach her how to change her form.
You’ll have all my gifts.
But Anne knew that wasn’t why she was bonding him. She would do it if he was a pauper with nothing but the rags on his back and not a single ounce of his own magic.
She fell asleep in the bath and woke some time later, her skin pimpled with goosebumps. The sun had set and a full moon was climbing above the forest as she dried off and dressed in a simple shift. Anne glanced at the dress laid out on the bed but decided to wait.
Gabriel had always spoiled her with his cooking. Her own skills in the kitchen were clumsy in comparison — mainly because fire in close proximity could be deadly — but she could at least set the table and make it look nice. Anne gathered lavender from the garden, then set off for the kitchen in search of a vase.
She hadn’t lingered there when she’d gone looking for him before. A quick glance through the door had told her he was elsewhere. Now she went inside and started searching the cupboards. She found a porcelain ewer she thought would do nicely, and turned to leave when her gaze fell upon a heavy oaken door, and single drop of dried blood on the floor before it.
Gabriel must have taken a cloth and tried to clean it up. Yet a trace remained, a dark stain on the doorjamb.
He had told her he always Traveled through a pond in the woods. That he didn’t like opening gateways from the Dominion into his own home. But of course he couldn’t have when he returned from London.
He would never have made it that far.
It’s only Gabriel’s, she thought. He was dying….
Yet Anne felt the first stirrings of a terrible, nameless dread as she pushed the door open and saw more droplets winding down into darkness.
She felt a sudden urge to turn around, to go back upstairs, open a book, and pretend she’d never seen it.
To leave well enough alone.
But she couldn’t.
So she padded down the stairs in her bare feet, following the trail deep beneath the castle to places she had never gone before. There were old casks and barrels stacked against the walls, and bits of rusty armor. Rolled-up carpets with nests of mice that skittered and squeaked at her fo
otfalls.
Several heavy oaken doors later, the trail ended in the wine cellar.
Where she found Alec sitting against the wall in chains with a split lip and truly spectacular black eye.
And Anne’s first treacherous thought was not My poor sweet brother, but rather, What did you do to him to make him chain you up down here?
She hurried forward and knelt down. Alec wordlessly drew her into his arms, holding her for a long minute. Then he pulled away and searched her face.
“He said you were here of your own accord … Is that true?”
She brushed the question away. “How badly are you hurt?”
Dried blood coated the floor. The chains.
“Most of it’s his.”
She drew a deep breath. “Tell me what happened.”
“I was at the Picatrix Club—”
“Are you the one….” Anne swallowed, her throat dry as dust. “Are you the one who stabbed him?”
Alec snorted in disgust. “I didn’t lay a hand on him except to inject him with morphine. I found him on the floor and I was trying to drag him out to the garden. Viv was supposed to be waiting there.”
She closed her eyes. She wasn’t sure what she might have done if Alec had said yes.
“I would have if I’d had the chance,” he added, “but we were swept apart. It was chaos, Anne.”
“You shouldn’t have taken his cross.” She frowned. “It was wrong.”
“It was impulsive. I sure as hell wish I hadn’t now.” Alec stared at her. “Whose side are you on?”
“Yours,” she replied automatically, but it wasn’t true. She felt torn in half. “Did he use the chains to drain you?”
“No.”
Anne studied the length of black iron links, her skin crawling, and saw that the bracelet worn by the necromancer was around Alec’s ankle and the collar worn by the slave had been fixed to one of the stone support columns.
“He did this to you after the Picatrix?”
She thought of the condition she’d found Gabriel in. It was hard to believe.