Primal Pleasure: Pendragon Gargoyles, Book 3

by Sydney Somers

  He pointed to an image on the screen of a guy going down on a woman.

  O-kay then.

  Emma scrolled the mouse over the photo and hit the enter key before glancing away. There was only so much she could take, and she was fast approaching that threshold no matter how hard she tried talking herself down.

  “It makes you uncomfortable.” No seductive tone this time, just truth.

  Too bad she found his voice sexy as hell even when he wasn’t trying to use it against her.

  Soft moans drifted from the laptop speakers as the video she’d clicked on began to play.

  She wet her dry lips, studied the counter. “Sex does not make me uncomfortable.”

  “Then why look away?”

  “I’ve got better things to do than watch people have sex.”

  “Like have sex yourself?”

  Was he talking about sex by herself or with him? Unsure which possibility excited her more—him watching her tease herself to orgasm or being right there with her—she shook her head before either fantasy could play out in her mind.

  The moaning coming from the laptop got louder, the woman’s breathless pleas rising to a feverish pitch as the man buried his face between her legs.

  Cian nuzzled the back of her hair, moving to her other side. “Do these movies arouse you?”

  “Not particularly.” He was a doing pretty good job of that all on his own.

  “You’re not telling me the truth. Otherwise your scent—”

  Suddenly self-conscious, she whipped around, cutting him off. “What about my scent?”

  Oh boy.

  Well, facing him had been a serious misstep. This close she had no choice but to angle her face up to meet his gaze, her own drawn right to his full mouth in the process. She didn’t even care that a hunter’s smile curved the gargoyle lips, like one who’d successfully cornered his prey and was ready to pounce. She was too busy thinking about what his mouth might taste like.

  Needed to know what it tasted like.

  “The movie does not—”

  He reached past her, surprising her by snapping the laptop shut. “We’ll get along much better if you’re honest with me, sorceress. And you are aroused.”

  “And you are apparently suffering from some kind of post-stone stress.” The pointed reminder of how he’d spent the last hundred years rolled right off his back, taking with it her last-ditch effort to get some space between them before she turned a small mistake into a colossal one.

  “Very aroused,” he clarified. His eyes flared, a hint of satisfaction flashing in the startling blue depths as he lowered his head.

  The chain links clinked together as he gripped her hip and pulled her close.

  “Pheromones,” she blurted just as his lips hovered above her own. “You’re a cat. You’re exciting me with your pheromones.” It made perfect sense. Unfortunately the light-bulb moment was too little too late when he teased his mouth across hers.

  Cian laughed softly, catching her bottom lip between his. “Hardly.”

  Her eyes slid shut, and then his mouth covered hers and she ceased caring about why she felt this way. The anticipation that had been snowballing inside her shattered, and she whimpered, parting her lips for him.

  He cupped her nape, his fingers sinking into her skin like a molten anchor. His mouth opened wider over hers, all wet heat and hot, hungry male.

  God, she couldn’t get enough. Digging her fingers into his shirt, she rose up on her toes and met the decadent kiss head-on. Fire ignited in her belly the second his tongue pushed past her lips and stroked deep.

  She moaned low in her throat and snaked a hand under his shirt in an instinctive urge to get closer. Cian growled and crushed her between him and the counter. The edge jammed into her back but she blocked it out.

  Blocked everything out but the drugging sweep of his mouth.

  Sweet pressure clenched deep in her core, intensifying when he rocked his hips, rubbing his hard length against her. She sucked at his bottom lip, then overwhelmed by just how badly she wanted him, she pushed him back half a step.

  She wasn’t sure which of them was more surprised that he’d given her any breathing room at all. Not that it lasted. One look at the need stamped on every inch of his handsome face and something inside her came apart.

  “Cian,” she pleaded, but for what she wasn’t sure.

  Thank the gods he didn’t wait for her to figure it out. Her feet left the ground as he lifted her up and set her on the counter, bringing them almost eye level. His fierce gaze promised something she couldn’t pinpoint, and then he buried his hand in her hair and claimed her mouth in another scorching kiss.

  She wrapped her legs around him, moaning when his cock fit snug against her.

  More. She needed so much more. Needed—

  Cian pulled back, his head bowed, his hands clenched into fists at his sides. “Why?”

  “What?” Her head was spinning, every cell inside her gravitating toward him even as tension thickened between them.

  He raised his head. “How did you come to be in possession of Constantine’s dagger? How did you use it to curse me?”

  “I…” She could barely think, let alone string together words that were supposed to make sense. Pheromones or not, the gargoyle was doing something to her. Still, she shook her head to deny the accusation.

  “Don’t,” he warned, his animal nature coming through loud and clear. “Where did you find it?”

  Did he think that where there was one, there’d be another? That had already occurred to her, and would have occurred to Elena as well. Her sister might be impulsive, but she would have recognized the advantage of holding on to such a coveted weapon.

  Emma sighed. “I won it.” The countless treasures her sister had acquired over the years made the guess a fairly reasonable one. Gambling was the only honest way Elena made any money. She’d frequently mentioned that using magic to manipulate the cards took the fun out of gambling.

  He arched a brow. She shrugged, not offering anything further.

  “I meant what I said about being honest.”

  “Does it really matter? You’re free and have the dagger in your position now.”

  “You and I need to come to an understanding.”

  “Why? Plan on locking me away in your closet indefinitely?” There was a moment of panic at the thought of being locked anywhere dark, but it was forgotten the second Cian’s expression turned downright wicked.

  “It doesn’t have to be the closet.”

  “If you’re under the impression that sex will make me cooperative—”

  “Oh, it’s not an impression.”

  “And I’m not some enchantress who sleeps with anything that moves.” Not usually, anyway. The gargoyle was proving to be the exception, and if the telling smile that curved his lips was anything to go by, he knew it too.

  “Sleeping is hardly what I had in mind.”

  The flash of intent in his eyes had her scooting backward until she came up against the cupboard. His grin widened, but instead of hauling her back into his arms as she’d half anticipated—half longed for—he leaned in slowly, his gaze sliding down to her mouth.

  She couldn’t decide what was worse—having no opportunity to stop him before he claimed her mouth completely, or seeing it coming and knowing she wanted it too much to object.

  His lips brushed hers, and he groaned, the sound almost painful.

  The same impulse that had driven her to stay and warm him on the roof flared anew. She cupped his cheek. “You’re hurting. We should stop.”

  Cian shook his head, then slid his tongue along the seam of her lips before pushing inside. “Stopping hurts more. You make it all better.” Another feather-light kiss. “So much better.”

  The worst past was that she wanted to believe him, wanted to so much that when his mouth covered hers, she told herself it might be true.

  Slow to start, the kiss bounced from exploring to explosive and back. One minu
te they were barely breathing, pulling at each other and greedy for more, and the next he was so careful, tender—heartbreakingly so.

  The contrast drove her crazy, kicking her arousal into high gear. By the time he worked her shirt up and palmed her breast, she was so on edge she bit his lip. Not hard enough to break the skin, it nevertheless got his attention.

  He ran his tongue across the spot, his eyes darkening.

  “I didn’t mean it,” she began, then stopped. She’d kept much of the truth to herself since they’d met, the least she could do was be honest about this.

  Emma boldly met his gaze. “Actually, I did mean it.”

  He cocked a brow, but his fingers never stopped tracing the edge of her bra, dipping inside. Her eyes slammed shut, squeezing tight when he tugged her bra down and flicked his tongue across her nipple.

  Sweet Avalon. Her breath hissed out, right up until he closed his lips over her, pulling her into his greedy mouth, and then her lungs stopped working altogether.

  Over and over he licked the tip, only to suck her nipple back into his mouth each time. The ache deep in her sex throbbed and she brought his hand between her legs, desperate for some relief.

  “Do you still deny that you’re aroused?”

  There was no point in denying anything when he only had to feel how damp she was. “What do you think?”

  He laughed, the sound dark and seductive. “I think you want me as much as I want you.”

  She rolled her hips, grinding shamelessly against his palm. “You don’t even like me.”

  “I’m keeping you here and yet you still want me.”

  Good point. “Okay, so we’re both messed up.” The last word caught in her throat the second his hand moved to her zipper.

  He pulled it down and slipped a hand inside. “You’re not a mess, but you are wet.”

  “A mess? I meant…forget it,” she breathed, breaking off when his fingers parted her cleft.

  Her nails raked the counter, seeking any kind of leverage. He found her clit instantly and swirled the pad of his thumb around the aching knot, drawing out the pleasure until every cell quivered with the need to come.

  Footsteps sounded near the door. “Oh, shit.”

  Cian whipped around, the cat pushing close to the surface.

  Why did everyone in the damn house have such bad timing? He’d been a minute, maybe a second from watching Emma come apart in his arms. Instead, he was watching his brother’s mate try to back out of the room with her hand slapped over her eyes.

  He’d liked Kennedy from the moment he had met her. She and Tristan seemed like a good fit, though he doubted his brother would appreciate him taking a swipe at her to get her moving faster.

  “Blame your brother,” Kennedy insisted, almost reading his mind. “I told him you’d be fine.” She bumped into the table, sending a stack of newspapers fluttering to the floor.

  The familiar pounding in his head returned with a vengeance. “Wait.” Sending Kennedy back to his brother after what she’d just walked in on would be almost as bad as making a video for everyone to see.

  Which actually didn’t sound so bad if it meant he could get his hands on Emma again.

  Behind him, she finished adjusting her clothes and eased down next to him.

  “Where is Tristan?” If his brother had come home to check on him…

  “At the bar, probably a couple hundred pounds heavier by now.”

  At least he didn’t have to worry about Tristan appearing for a while, making him grateful that mated gargoyles still needed to shift to stone to rebuild their strength or heal from any significant injuries. However, the reprieve wouldn’t last long once Kennedy mentioned what he and Emma had been doing.

  He scrubbed a hand down his face. “We—”

  “No explanations required. Really.” Kennedy dropped a pile of newspapers back on the table.

  “Do you need to get back to him?”

  She shrugged. “As fun as it is to watch him play statue, I’m not in a rush.”

  Looking at Emma made him want to send Kennedy on her way so they could pick right up where they’d left off, which was why he got the next words out before he changed his mind.

  “Watch her for me?”

  Kennedy frowned, her gaze sliding briefly to Emma before she nodded.

  He picked up the other end of the chain he’d dropped earlier, hating the way his stomach twisted, and handed it to her. “I’ll return shortly.”

  He couldn’t bring himself to glance at Emma, though he felt her gaze following him as he crossed the room. Without another word he let himself out the patio door. Every step he took felt like he was fighting his instincts, but he forced himself away from the sorceress who clouded his thoughts until he craved only her.

  Outside, Cian watched them through the window for another moment to be sure Emma wouldn’t try anything. Although Kennedy had only come into her immortality and powers rather recently, he’d seen her hold her own with Tristan and Sorcha. Anyone who wasn’t easily intimidated by the huntress could handle watching Emma for a little while.

  He didn’t plan on being gone for very long. As much as his animal half needed to run, neither man nor cat would venture too far from her. That knowledge only made him more determined to go.

  He wanted his life back, damn it. He didn’t want to spend any more time fixating on the sorceress.

  Cian stripped out of his pants, not wanting to rip them apart as he shifted. The change came quick and familiar, his vision sharpening, muscles and bones realigning as the cat broke free.

  He pawed the ground and circled the patio, then took off for the woods. There wasn’t enough space to roam as far as he normally liked to. The trees didn’t tower as high here as those in Avalon. Morgana’s tyranny aside, he missed the world of his birth. Vaulting from tree limb to tree limb here didn’t offer the same freedom as home.

  For nearly an hour he moved around the perimeter of his family’s property, darting from trees and back to the ground before flopping down in a sunny spot. He hadn’t felt the sun on his body since Arthur’s defeat and the sheer pleasure of it was all that kept him from returning to the sorceress sooner.

  The only thing that would have made stretching out in the warm sun more enjoyable would have been Emma lying there next to him, running her fingers through his fur.

  By the time he padded back to the patio and shifted back to dress, his stomach was rumbling. Assuming Kennedy had taken Emma back to his room, he snagged a piece of chicken from the fridge.

  Whoever he was, Colonel Sanders rivaled nearly every cook he’d known in both Avalon and the human realm.

  Cian left the kitchen, but instead of catching Emma’s scent at the hallway leading to his room, he followed it toward the den.

  “You bitch.”

  The huntress.

  “Just wait a second,” he heard Emma plead.

  “You are so dead.”

  Snarling, Cian shoved the door open, his claws bursting through the tips of his fingers. If anyone laid one finger on her, he’d—

  All three women seated on the coach turned to stare at him. No weapons were drawn. No injuries were bleeding. No huntress with a sword to Emma’s throat.

  He shook his head as though it would help him figure out what the hell was going on, both with what he’d overhead and the panic that had turned his chest to a block of ice.

  Kennedy whistled. “Briana is so gonna kick your ass.”

  Frowning, he followed her gaze to the flat box mounted on the wall next to the door. At least it had been mounted. Now it hung there, more or less, in large pieces of shredded metal.

  Kennedy looked like she was fighting a grin. “Your sister just revamped the security system a month ago.”

  Was he supposed to know what that meant?

  “You broke it,” Sorcha clarified. Then she winked at him and swiveled back around to face the television, along with Kennedy.

  Only Emma seemed to notice he was still in the room
when the music coming from the television resumed. He could feel her tracking his progress from the corner of her eye, and enjoyed it immensely.

  Just to be certain, he gave her a good, long look. “You’re not hurt.”

  Her brows drew together. “No.”

  He moved around to the front of the room, first noticing the food on the table, but more importantly the absence of Sorcha’s sword. Even though she was no longer hunting rogue immortals, she was seldom unarmed, according to Briana.

  “You didn’t attack her.”

  Sorcha shook her head. “Just threw her off a cliff.”

  He tried to take comfort in the fact that women were just as confusing now as a hundred years ago. “What?”

  “The game,” Emma said gently, motioning to the screen behind him.

  “Your new pet pushed my Mario into the man-eating plant.” Sorcha spared him a brief look before tapping buttons on the piece of plastic she held in her hands.

  “Only after your Luigi shoved her into the lava.” Kennedy snagged a pretzel from the bowl and popped it into her mouth.

  “A game,” he repeated, the cat inside him finally starting to calm. There hadn’t been a threat to Emma.

  Instead the three of them were playing a video game. Together. He’d only been gone an hour and already they were befriending her? The sorceress who’d left him in stone for a century?

  “She’s not my pet,” he snapped.

  “Really?” Sorcha nudged the end of the gold and silver links with her foot. “Because that looks like a chain to me.” She glanced at Kennedy, who nodded.

  “You were the one who put the chain on her to begin with.”

  The huntress shrugged as though that detail was irrelevant at this point. “You should at least get her a studded collar to match if you’re planning on keeping her awhile.”

  Kennedy coughed and looked at the screen.

  He stared Sorcha down, half hoping to provoke the huntress. He’d only feel marginally guilty for tangling with his brother’s mate if it managed to loosen the tension that had tightened to a stranglehold the moment he’d thought Emma was in trouble. And if Cale wanted to kick his ass for it later, so much the better. Right about now he had as much energy as three gargoyles and needed a way to burn it off before it burned him up.