He finished his glass and poured another.
He didn’t know what he wanted anymore and the mortal’s kisses hadn’t helped.
Unbidden, his senses returned to Jordan. Her soft breaths and steady heartbeat was lulling and…alluring. His tongue rubbed a sharp pointed fang as he envisioned returning to her room. He’d kiss her awake then trail his lips over her jaw, down the column of her throat to her—Gabriel growled and shot back the liquor. God, he was blackguard, lusting after the weak mortal. She was vulnerable in every sense of the word, which would explain why she’d kissed him. She saw him as fairytale knight with fangs who would protect her.
Gabriel scoffed and poured himself another two fingers.
A smile tugged at his lips as pride welled within his chest once more. Jordan was a born hunter. The tiny, slip of a girl had killed not one but two vampires while captured and, despite the drugs and her emaciated state, she continued to fight. How many vampires had she slain over the years? Had she been forced to use her combat skills while living on the streets?
Gabriel’s brow furrowed as he gazed down at his drink. Did it matter? No. Should he care? Most definitely not. Humans victimized each other all the time. They fought, lied, murdered, raped, stole—the victor capitalizing and lording over the defeated—a never ending cycle of pain. He’d never understand why mortals held life with such little regard. The weak destroyed by the strong.
His lips twisted as he brought the glass to his mouth and his dark thoughts cast him into the past…
The blood of his enemies coated his arms, his chest, speckled his face and stained the blond braided plates of his hair. But it wasn’t enough. He’d failed. He’d failed them all. As Chieftain he was their shield and he was bound. One by one his fellow warriors fell under the heavy blades of their enemies. Women and children, slaughtered, cut down as if they were nothing more than weeds in a garden.
Coarse rope and rusted chains circled his wrists, sliced into his neck, and tangled around his ankles. Forced to his knees, he was powerless, as the raiders dragged his wife’s half-conscious form from the burning hall. Vailraina tried to fight and the curs laughed at her struggles. Her cries of pain, her pleas for mercy went unanswered as they took her.
Gabriel’s throat was raw from his bellows of rage and vows of vengeance when they dropped her battered body before him. Tears and ash streaked her swollen face. Dear lord, she was unrecognizable. Bruises colored her breasts, torso, and hips. Blood, dirt, and semen coated her thighs. His name fell from her lips as a battle-axe struck its mark.
Smoke thickened the air, billowed from the torched huts and barns. The village crumbled as the heathens corralled the pitiful number of survivors. Bound and enslaved, they were forced to their feet and shoved on to the waiting long-ships along with what gold and valuables that had been found.
As the shoreline of his homeland faded, the black smoke clouds dissipated, and the other captives wept, mourning their loss and fearing their future, Gabriel swore to every pagan God he knew and vowed to the Christian lord that he would have his revenge. He would get free and he’d claim their head’s, just as they had taken Vailraina’s.
Gabriel finished his drink and cast a glance to the antique chest that occupied one of the many shelves of the wall length, floor to ceiling bookcase. On a clear night, he had slipped his restraints and located the weapon used on his wife. Silently he crept through the heathen’s camp and systematically killed them all. Their shouts of alarm and anguished gurgles shuddered the night, alerting their allies within the camp. Gabriel hadn’t cared if he was discovered, hadn’t planned an escape and when he was found, drenched in the blood of his enemy’s, he welcomed the torture that followed. For days he’d been beaten and starved, but he wouldn’t reveal where he’d buried the heads, taking pleasure in the fact the curs would never have a proper burial and enter the kingdom of Valhalla.
He’d been certain Death would find him in that camp and although the Spector never came, Gabriel had been cast into Hell anyway. He’d been trussed up, placed on a crimson slick auction block, and damned to an eternity of torment for the pleasure of demons.
Gabriel snatched the decanter from the floor and shoved to his feet. He returned the liquor to the wet bar and filled his glass once more, his gaze slipped back to the chest.
After centuries, he remembered where the heads were buried and, once he’d been freed, he returned to the sight with another skull to add to the collection, Madame Sideth.
Shaking his head, Gabriel turned his back on the chest and the gruesome secrets it contained. His focus shifted to the double doors of the adjoining room. How could he think of such things with Jordan so close and so vulnerable?
Gabriel rolled his eyes exasperated with himself. He knew it wasn’t rational to think the evil that dwelled within him could somehow seep out and endanger her.
His blood flashed to ice as the chilled fingers of realization gripped him. He’d given Jordan his blood. His tainted blood. Gabriel’s gut twisted. He’d forced that corrupted fluid down her throat…and her tongue had swept over his pulse as if she couldn’t get enough. She’d moaned with pleasure and his muscles tensed, his body as taught as a bow string.
He rubbed the side of his neck and his eyes closed. His claws lengthened as he stroked the spot where her lips had pressed against him, fed from him. Imagining her bite, he pierced his throat and—God, he was some kind of messed up.
Gabriel tossed back the last of his drink before attempting to adjust his erection with the heel of his palm. After a few failed attempts, Gabriel snarled a litany of curses and gave up. He wasn’t about to put his hand inside his pants and arrange the damn thing. Leaving his cock caught at a painful angle, he stalked to the bathroom. A shower is what he needed. The cold bite of cascading water would focus his mind and numb his body. God, he wanted to be numb, he wanted to feel nothing. Most of all, he didn’t want to want her. Never before had he lowered himself to a mortal and we wouldn’t start with Jordan.
Chapter Twelve
The suffering, the misery, the demeaning sneers, and vicious taunts. Fear tightened Jordan’s throat and she gasped for breath. Her heart pounded so loud she could hear nothing else. Her hands shook as she pushed her damp hair away from her face and over her shoulders. Blinking back tears, her surroundings came into focus. She wasn’t on the floor of her cell or a dirty, drafty warehouse. She was wrapped in a large silk robe and tangled in satin sheets, tucked away in a luxurious bedroom in Gabriel’s home. She was safe.
Closing her eyes, Jordan summoned her inner strength to calm her breathing and exile the horrifying memories that had invaded her dreams. She laid back against the pillows and listened to the quiet around her: the clock on the mantle softly ticked…unpredictable gusts of wind blew against the house.
She tried to force herself back to sleep, but tension began to coil within her muscles as the silence and peace dragged on. Anxiety rising once more, Jordan shoved the covers aside and sat up. The absence of the guard’s thumping boots and the gentle weeping of her fellow captives shouldn’t grate her nerves. She should be relaxed, not cringing in anticipation of a shrill, earsplitting scream.
Jordan was up and pacing. The hardwood floors were cool beneath her bare feet. As she circled the room she noted the rich colors, textures, and antique furnishings. Wrapping her arms around her middle, she backed herself into a corner. Her back against the wall, she swept her gaze from one side to the other. The room was grand, over the top lavish, yet her elegant surroundings didn’t make sense. The normalcy and security the room offered didn’t compute. It was all too perfect, too safe and she…didn’t belong, just how she’d never belonged with her foster families as a child. She wasn’t normal, they’d all known.
Jordan slid down the wall until she met the floor. Pulling her knees to her chest, she stared blankly at the dancing flames of the candelabra resting on the desk. The clock on the mantle chimed 11 A.M.
Was this a dream?
How long had it been since she stood under the bright lights of the auction stage? How long since Gabriel had come for her and pulled her out of Hell? Hours? It felt like seconds.
She should be rejoicing. She should be weeping with relief.
Scoffing, she stood and resumed her pacing.
She wasn’t the crying type, happy or otherwise. Jordan learned long ago tears accomplished nothing expect to make her eyes red. Crying hadn’t done anything to bring back her parents or her aunt. Throwing herself a pity party would be useless, just as it had been when she’d hoped her favorite foster family, the Gordons, would adopt her. They’d begun the paperwork, but when Mrs. Gordon finally got pregnant they turned her out. Devastated, she set out on the streets. She hadn’t intended to become a slayer, but if she didn’t protect the other homeless, parentless children from the rogue vampires, who would? It was then that Jordan decided she wouldn’t let sadness, self-pity, or doubt to ever defeat her and she hadn’t shed a tear since. Hadn’t depended on another, hadn’t relied on anyone to save her or comfort her.
After another round of circles Jordan ended up going into the bathroom. Her gaze flipped to the tub for a moment then to the steam shower. The tension in her body was unbearable and she was in need of some hot water. She also craved to experience an old routine. Despite the bath she’d had earlier, she hadn’t been able to scrub her skin until it turned red, like she wanted, and she hadn’t basked in the comfort as she should’ve.
Her cheeks heated. It had been her fault that her bubble bath had been cut short. She had kissed Gabriel and he’d tasted of winter: wild and powerful. Gabriel’s lips had been firm yet giving, his tongue masterfully dueled with her own. When she pressed against him, she’d felt the unyielding strength of his body, his muscles had strained as he held himself back.
“Fact, I could crush you.”
She understood a vampire’s strength. She knew he could snap her bones with a simple flick of his wrist, knew that he could drain every last drop of blood from her body in less than a minute. But Gabriel’s words of warning had made her want him more. She craved his unfettered passion and to know his claim. Her sex clenched at the thought. If they hadn’t been interrupted, would he have trailed kisses down her throat? Would he have cupped her breasts or would he have pulled her from the tub, set her on the counter and—
Stop! He didn’t want the kiss. The truth stung. Though he’d kissed her back, he hadn’t closed his arms around her, he hadn’t leaned into her. He hadn’t touched her at all.
Jordan turned on the shower and rummaged through the bathroom’s cabinets until she found a razor, shaving cream, a sugar scrub, soap, luffa, and a tie for her hair. Once the water was warm, she ditched the robe and stepped under the spray. A tiny sigh parted her lips. Heaven.
An eternity ticked by as she stood beneath the fall, careful not to get her hair wet. It had been so long since she’d had privacy and was allowed to wash herself. She shaved then used the sugar scrub to exfoliate her skin—scrubbing away Klein’s every touch—and she took her time lathering her body with the gently foaming soap.
When she finally stepped from the shower she felt like a new and improved Jordan. After a little more searching, she found an unopened toothbrush and tube of toothpaste.
Ah, the simple things in life.
Once finished, she redressed in the silk robe and French braided her still damp hair. She turned back to the room. Her steps came to an abrupt halt and she lingered in the doorway. Shadows dominated the space; the majority of the candles had burnt to the wick.
Had the room gotten bigger? Quieter? It was definitely cooler.
Jordan cast a longing glance toward the bed. As much as she wanted to sleep, she wasn’t ready to combat another round of memory induced nightmares.
She turned her gaze to the bookshelf. Whenever life had beaten her down, she’d escape to a new world through books. Maybe, if she lost herself in a book, the past few days, weeks, months would fade away.
Jordan shook her head as she realized there was only one thing that could make her feel safe, make her forget the ugliness and violence. Make her feel alive.
Before doubt could set in, Jordan quickly crossed to the adjoining double doors. She paused for a heartbeat, listening for any sign of life on the other side then knocked. No answer. She tried again. Sanity insisted that she turn away. It was late afternoon, Gabriel was likely sleeping and she should leave him alone. Hell, even if he wasn’t sleeping she should leave the vampire alone.
Jordan turned the knob and pushed one door open just wide enough so she could slip inside. The room was freezing. She blinked several times, her eyes struggling to adjust to the oppressive darkness. Her gaze locked on the only source of illumination, a strange glowing liquid in a crystal decanter that rested on what she assumed was a bedside table. Drawn by the hypnotic glow, Jordan silently approached the bed.
Gabriel lay on his back, his head turned to the side, the sheets bunched around his waist. Was he nude? Biting her lip she contemplated tugging on the sheets to discover the answer. The soft glow of the mysterious elixir danced over his proud, hauntingly flawless profile. Hard shadows etched along his cheekbones and straight jaw line. The darkness slashed across the wide stone like slab of his torso, accentuating every detail of his chiseled abs and cut pecs. Her ravenous gaze took in every inch of his exposed skin. She’d never thought of a man being beautiful, but Gabriel was masculine perfection. His rigid body the definition of strength and looking at him made her ache to feel all that muscle press against her.
Entranced, Jordan unconsciously took a step closer. His longish blond hair was mussed and spread over the pillow. The unruly strands that fell across his brow seemed to demand she brush them aside, but she remained still. Her gaze fixed on the cruel scar covering Gabriel’s left pectoral.
A brand.
It was unlike any she’d seen, but she knew the meaning. Gabriel had been enslaved. Realization hit her like a bucket of ice water, the cold slicing her to the bone. That’s why he fought Boras, why he raided the warehouses, and explained why he’d made it a personal mission to find her. Seeing the angry, raised pattern, Jordan was struck with the need to know what he’d been through, what he’d survived.
With trembling fingers she reached out—
A short, sharp cry tore from her lips as the darkness swirled around her. Fingers locked around her throat, her feet dangled. Jordan didn’t struggle. She’d been trapped like his before, but never unarmed and never by a vampire as strong as Gabriel. Taking in even breaths, she remained calm knowing if he intended to hurt her, or worse, he’d have done so by now. Vampires didn’t hesitate; they struck, fed, and killed.
His chest bowed and his shoulders quaked as he drew in rough breaths. The air hissed past his long, lethal fangs. Power, so raw, it emitted from him like a scent. Gabriel’s eyes were black, feral and riveted on her with a look of absolute possession. Undeniable, untamable lust burned in their depths, he wanted to claim her—devour her. Jordan trembled form the force of his predatory stare, her heart skipped a beat, her blood spiked with desire. God help her, she wanted to be claimed by this male. Truly claimed, in every way. Maybe it was her time spent imprisoned that made her so bold, so reckless. Maybe it was her need to feel alive, free, to be in control of her life and her body again. At the moment, the reasons didn’t matter. She didn’t care. She wanted pleasure and passion, and she wanted Gabriel.
He lowered her to her feet and loosened his hold, but kept her pinned as if he worried she’d slip away. Leaning down, he tilted his head, his breath caressed her ear. Jordan’s eyes drifted closed when he growled low, “You’re not afraid?”
Heat blossomed within her and pooled between her thighs. “No.”
His fingers skipped over her suddenly too sensitive flesh, sending shivers down her spine. He gripped her jaw and wrenched her head to the side, revealing her pulse. “Sweet, sweet jasmine.” His velvet voice rumbled with a demonic roughness that made every cell wi
thin her sizzle.
Gripping her ass, Gabriel lifted her. Quicker than a blink, Jordan found herself crushed against the wall, solid chest to soft breasts. Instinctively, she wound her arms around his neck and her legs around his waist. As if unable to help himself, Gabriel thrust his erection against her then suddenly went still. His muscles shook as he willed himself not to move.
The robe tangled around her hips and slipped between her thighs, the silk the only barrier between them. Gabriel was gloriously nude and she was thrilled to find his long shaft was ridged, hot, and thick. It pulsed against her, teasing her, tormenting her. Seeking, demanding.
Jordan brought her parted lips to his shoulder and waited for his response. Gabriel didn’t pull away or command that she stop. Encouraged, she kissed her way to his neck and paused at his pulse. Inexplicable desires ravaged her—to bite him, to feel his body press her down as she drank of him. Stunned, she pulled back. Taking a vampire’s blood was forbidden and yet she hungered for him.
Her lips hovered over his artery, her breath a feather light caress against his heated flesh, Gabriel growled and craned his head to the side. Was he giving her permission?
She flicked her tongue out to taste his skin. Eyes rolling back, she moaned.
Gabriel’s hands tightened on her ass, holding her firmly against his cock. She tentatively rolled her hips. Oh, yes. Electricity shot through her and left her panting, yearning. She rocked against him again, this time drawing a pleasured, pained groan from him, “Slow.”
No. Not slow. She needed. She craved more.
Tilting her hips forward, seeking more pressure, Jordan ground herself against his hard length. “Yes, yes.”
Lost, she rode him relentlessly and ignored his grated warnings to be careful, gentle. She didn’t want tame. She wanted wild. She wanted his strength. She wanted him, fully, completely, nothing held back. But he released her, slamming his fists against the wall. Framing her head, he supported his weight on his forearms. His head bowed, his breath rasped against her ear.
Caressed by the Edge of Darkness (Rulers of Darkness Book 5) Page 14