A cat, my lord? Not exactly how I would describe you.
He fisted his erection and guided it past her slick folds. Her skin was hot in the aftermath of her climax. Even if he wanted to be gentle, Gabriel was powerless against the lust that seized him.
Open for me, Anne Willoughby.
A fierce growl erupted from his throat when he thrust into her. She gasped and he waited while her body adjusted to accept him. Lowering his head, he kissed her, his tongue as invasive in her mouth as his penis in her vagina.
Such a tight little panini.
Her satisfaction rolled across his mind. So glad you’re enjoying it.
Anne’s awareness was open to him, and he shared the sensations that came with each thrust and retreat of his cock. She tightened her hold with each stroke, as if seeking to lock him in place, and Gabriel gave himself up to the erotic play her thoughts created. He marveled at the exquisite array of colors throbbing in syncopated harmony when her hips began a slow rotation. She wrapped her legs around his hips, then pressed her heels against his buttocks, giving him deeper penetration. Harder. I want more.
He gave her what she craved and took what he needed to feel almost human. Her body clung to him as smoothly and tightly as a Spanish glove. He groaned when she took control of their kiss and showed him what she wanted.
Anne’s body suddenly tensed, her mouth abruptly ending their kiss. Gabriel felt the vise-like squeeze on his penis, along with the rapid flutters that signaled she’d reached the end of her tether. Wet heat poured over his sensitive head and his testicles hardened with an acute pressure. His mouth kissed along the smooth column of her neck. He inhaled and the combination of the fragrance she wore and the scent of her blood incited bloodlust. His body froze.
If it gives you pleasure.
She had read his impulse, seen the hunger and offered him release. He fought the pressure to sink his fangs into the soft delectable vein. After several fraught moments, they retracted. He’d never taken blood while in the throes of passion.
He dragged his mouth to her lips and kissed her with a languidness that left them both panting. Pressing a tender kiss at each corner of her mouth, he lifted his head and murmured, “Maybe next time.”
Gabriel increased his pace, his cock driving deeper and harder into Anne. Soft noises turned into screams of pleasure when he reached between them and fingered her clitoris. Her climax came in a rush of liquid fire, her inner muscles squeezing his flesh so tightly he expelled air from his lungs in a single torrential explosion as his seed flooded her womb. For several long seconds his body convulsed until, his sacs empty, he was utterly drained.
Anne’s arms had wrapped themselves across his back. She held him, allowing him to share in the unfathomable bliss he had given her. When he finally shifted so his weight was on the bed instead of her, she groaned her disappointment. He lifted his head and gazed down at her face, still flushed with passion. Her thick black lashes rested on smooth brown skin, her mouth swollen from their kisses. “You are beautiful, Anne Willoughby. I’m going to enjoy you in my bed.”
She raised her eyelids and searched his eyes. Her hands released him. “I must leave.”
“I am not done with you yet,” Gabriel stated. “I will take you to Holland’s League before the women rise from their beds.”
Her palms eased between them and pushed against his naked chest. “I have fulfilled the conditions set by Fate, my lord. We are mated. There is no reason for me to remain here any longer.”
He watched as her mouth tightened before she closed her eyes. An unexpected surge of power sliced through him where her hands rested. Suddenly, her body vanished and he found himself face down on his bed. Turning over, he sat up. A large hawk perched on the edge of his desk near the slightly open window. With an angry squawk, the bird faded and Anne rose from the desk.
Gabriel found himself utterly distracted by her nakedness. The long brown legs, curvaceous hips, and firm breasts had him drooling. Then he spied the dagger in her hand. His gaze went to her face, which was a mask of seething anger.
“My words were a statement of fact,” she hissed. “I was not seeking your permission to depart. My obligation to you and Fate has been fulfilled. I am not yours to command.”
Gabriel’s expression remained impassive. He enjoyed the wildness so at odds with the woman who hid behind the impersonal temperament of a brothel owner. His life mate was like the hawk she had become. Though a man may capture the bird and train it to the jess, a hawk was still a wild creature.
“I won’t ask you to pardon my abrupt departure,” she said coolly. “Good night, Lord Elstone.”
Anne resumed the hawk’s shape and flew through the open window. He was tempted to go after her, to show her what happens when he’s challenged, especially by a woman. Instead, he leaned back against the bed’s thick silk bolster.
So much about his shape-changing life mate left him perplexed and intrigued. He refused to accept the bond between them was unbreakable except by death. He hadn’t consented to the union. Had refused all ties of emotion to a woman before Anne Willoughby walked into his life. Why couldn’t she see that they were a far greater threat to each other than any demon?
Never one to lie to himself, Gabriel accepted that as brief as his possession of her body had been, Anne had managed to penetrate his protective shield and forged a path that left him vulnerable. He rose from his bed, his naked body impervious to the cool night air seeping through the window. A heavy weight drew his gaze downward and he groaned. Just thinking about Anne had his cock aching with need. He was just as hard in her absence as he had been when he was buried deep inside her. A need stronger than his hunger for blood had taken hold, refusing to release him.
Thoughts of her immediately took up residency in his mind, triggering memories of the taste of her juices when she climaxed in his mouth, the feel of her tight wet flesh gripped about his cock. He closed his eyes trying to drive out the images and failed.
What had the witch done to him?
I’m not a witch.
His laughter echoed in the room. “Perhaps not, sweet Anne, but even now my ensorcelled cock demands that I follow you to London.”
Her amusement feathered his awareness, feeding his mirth. Do you always permit your cock to do your thinking? Tsk, tsk, I assumed Demon Gabriel was singularly incapable of being tamed by the pull of lust.
“Where are you?”
“Approaching Holland’s League,” she replied, her voice sounding distant.
Her ability to project her voice from a distance was another little surprise. “Look for my arrival before noon, life mate. You appear to have several supernatural talents I’ve not encountered in my travels.”
Silence greeted his statement, as if she weighed her response. He waited, tension a small knot in his belly. For some reason, he wanted honesty between them, at least with respect to their abilities. Finally, the gentle brush of Anne’s mental touch eased his worry.
“Until now I’ve only been able to communicate like this with my twin brother, no one else. I must assume, since you are my life mate, we can do the same.” She mentally smirked. “As to my other gifts, they should be discovered as needed. To keep you in your place.”
She laughed and closed herself off completely to him. A shiver raced down Gabriel’s spine. He glanced around his bedchamber, unnerved by the loneliness that filled him in the wake of her withdrawal. He walked over to the window and pulled it shut.
A different hunger gnawed at the edges of his consciousness and Gabriel realized he hadn’t fed since the previous day. Maybe that was why Anne Willoughby was such a danger to his equilibrium. He tended to forget himself when with her. Once he fed he’d be able to give greater thought on how to manage her.
Anne landed not far from Holland’s League and shifted back to her natural form. Dawn hadn’t broken when she turned down the alley just behind the brothel. She was exhausted, drained by the constant battles with her life mate and her h
asty departure from Gabriel’s bed, which was why she never sensed her attacker’s presence. Not until a sharp pain ripped across her shoulder and wetness left her sleeve clinging to her skin. As her assailant’s knife descended a second time, she became a leopard and avoided the blow.
She growled softly, knowing the cat enjoyed the smell of fear. You should fear me, she thought as she slowly circled him, driving him deeper into the alley’s darkness. Her sharp eyes followed the man’s frantic movements as he searched for an escape. She growled and bared her teeth. His terror fed her predatory instincts and she sniffed the air. His scent was marked by a demonic touch. She was tempted to let him pass, knowing he was a mere pawn. If you do, your enemies will see you as weak, Tamahaq. Send Mephistopheles a message.
The cat’s instinct heeded the voice despite Anne’s hesitation and took a step closer. Trapped in the narrow alley, the man’s fear won out and he lunged at her, his knife slashing her back. Emboldened, he came at her again. This time, despite her injuries, she was ready and her claws swiped his chest. The scent of blood heightened the cat’s hunger and she pounced. Her weight drove the man to the ground and she tore at his flesh, swallowing chunks whole. The cat’s blood frenzy roared in her mind as she fed.
“Enough, Tamahaq.”
The leopard yowled her displeasure and continued to feed while Anne fought to contain the cat’s mind. In the throes of bloodlust, the leopard lashed out and pain ripped across her awareness. She watched helplessly while the cat tore another piece of the man’s flesh and swallowed.
“You are not an animal, do not behave as one.”
Anne shuddered when a fist slammed against the side of the leopard’s head. Wrenching herself from the carcass, the cat turned to face her new enemy. As she did so, Anne snatched control from the leopard and shifted back to human form. Her eyes lost the keenness of the desert cat but she saw the savaged body of her attacker. Puddles of blood pooled around his remains. Her stomach knotted painfully before it reacted to the sight and the weight of human flesh and purged itself of the remains.
Pushing herself to her knees, Anne attempted to heal. Her body felt as if it had been set on fire.
Stop, Tamahaq. The knife was dipped in gold. I will summon your life mate.
She struggled to her feet and inched her way to the brothel. I do not need him. With each step, her pain increased. Stubborn will enabled her to reach the outer door that led to the brothel’s kitchen. Her fist raised to pound on the sturdy wood, she shuddered and collapsed.
14
Anne gingerly lowered herself onto the large cushion near the fireplace. Her wounds were nearly healed, only a lingering soreness remained. What also lingered was an anxiousness that wouldn’t go away. She found herself trembling for no reason. Her fears crept into her dreams and she’d frequently awakened fighting off an invisible attacker. Not even Gabriel’s presence had eased the terror rooted in the pit of her stomach. Her fear made her lash out at him. She had blamed him for putting her and Holland’s League in danger. Logic declared such thinking was irrational but she hadn’t wanted to look too closely at her own actions, hadn’t wanted to examine the flaws in her own behavior. It was much easier to blame her life mate than face her fears.
Staring at the flames in the fireplace, Anne realized she was at a crossroad. For the first time in her life, she questioned her destiny. More importantly, she was beginning to doubt her ability to succeed, wondered whether she and her heart were strong enough for the task Fate had set her. Carelessness had become a constant companion since Demon Gabriel strolled into her life. Her mind frequently grew inattentive to the subtle things happening around her because thoughts of him consumed her waking moments. Before she and Gabriel became mated, no demon or its pawn could get close enough to attack, let alone leave her mortally wounded.
The memory of the poison-tipped knife slicing her flesh, the brief numbness before fire erupted across her shoulder, forced itself to her awareness and she shuddered. Her reaction to the attack had been instinctive. Her skin rippled, her bones cracked, and the leopard rose to protect her. A desert cat’s rage had driven her to maul the man who attacked her. Only Raphael’s intervention had saved the man’s life. Had the archangel not intervened, she had no idea how far she might have gone, having ceded control to the desert cat. She became a hungry, ruthless predator. Would she have devoured the man as the cat’s instinct wanted?
Not until she shifted back was she aware of her actions, and her injuries. The hapless man had used a gold-flecked knife and her wounds were deadly. Flecks of gold seeped into her blood stream as she ravaged the man and, with the speed of molten lava, became a poison sweeping throughout her body. The struggle to heal left her begging for death. A death denied her by her life mate.
It is not your time to die, Tamahaq. You created this bond and I’m not ready to let you go this way. You belong to me.
Seconds later she was in her bed, pleading for an end to the agonizing pain. She fought Bella and Gabriel as they frantically worked to save her life. In the end, it was her life mate who saved her. He removed the tiny droplets of poison dispersed throughout her blood, ignoring her tortured cries as he made certain nothing remained. When he was finished, his hard voice echoed in Anne’s head as he left her to Bella’s care. I remind you of your vow, life mate.
Anne tilted her head and her eyes stared into the flames as if they held the answers. “This is not who I am. How do I become myself again? Rid myself of these fears, this loss of control?”
In an orderly fashion, individual flames began to extinguish themselves until the room was catapulted into darkness. Her hand moved to her left hip when a translucent globe appeared and floated into the middle of her room. She waited a second, thinking Gabriel was behind the magic, then unsheathed her dagger and slid it to her right hand. Her left hand reached across her right shoulder and brought her sword into the world.
“Tamahaq.”
“Who are you?” she demanded. “Show yourself.”
The globe brightened and formed a halo around a woman who stood in the center of the room. Anne rose quickly, her knife and sword at the ready. An amused chuckle emerged from the woman’s throat, the sound so pure it nearly put Anne at ease.
“So like your ancestress Amina. Look inside your heart, daughter of Saria, and recognize me.”
Anne closed her eyes and opened her awareness. It took several minutes for her to penetrate the curious veil that surrounded the woman. An astonished gasp exploded from Anne’s mouth. “Fate. What are you doing here?”
Her face heated with embarrassment. She quickly returned her sword to its hiding place and sheathed her dagger. “Forgive me.”
Fate’s laughter soothed her discomfort. “Do not apologize for the warrior that you are, Tamahaq. I am here because your mind and heart seek answers only I can give. Open your mind to me by your choice.”
Anne lowered the barriers to her consciousness. As she did so, images flooded in. The past, present, and future arrayed themselves in her mind. Tears pushed at her eyes when her mother and father’s faces appeared. Other faces replaced them, all descendants of Lilith or their chosen mates. She saw her Imohag and Tamahaq ancestors, the angels whose loyalty to Lucifer had cost them their lives, and Lilith the archangel, the first Saria, the first Tamahaq. Each one murdered by Satan or at his command.
The images faded into memory until a single one took root in her mind. Anne studied it, confused by what she saw. A pair of silver-blue and gray threads rose up and began to weave themselves together. She stared at the forming before realizing what it signified. “That is my child.”
She couldn’t quite mask her bewilderment and wrapped her arms around her waist. She and Gabriel would have a child. Still, she was perplexed for nothing about the landscape was familiar to her, though it wasn’t unfamiliar. She squeezed her eyelids and then focused her gaze on Fate. “He has no idea of what is destined, does he?”
“No,” Fate replied. “Gabriel’s path is
shadowed by the one who sired him. If your life mate knew what was to become, your task would be even harder, Tamahaq. Because of who he is, Gabriel would destroy his own life before fathering your child. His reasoning is flawed and therefore dangerous, although given his sire it is not illogical. You and Gabriel will face a great trial before a child can be conceived. Your life mate’s soul is in your keeping. When the time comes his heart will be there as well.”
Fate’s illumination started to flicker. “Are you at peace with your destiny, Tamahaq?”
Anne inhaled and slowly released the breath. “I am at peace.”
The bedchamber abruptly went dark. Seconds later the dead flames reignited. She knew Fate had not shared everything with her and it left Anne feeling less in control of her life than before. She cursed softly, realizing she’d not asked about the undead. She wished she knew more about them, their role in angelic prophecy. She wanted to unravel the mystery that was Gabriel since he was an anomaly among the undead and whoever held his loyalty possessed a formidable weapon in the war among the angels.
Anne’s hand moved across her flat stomach. Fate hadn’t said whether her child would be like his father, an undead, or would take after her mother and live as a shapeshifter. Would the child be born a hybrid? An undead with the ability to shape-change. The thought terrified Anne. Their child could never fall into Satan’s hands. She had to ensure that she and Gabriel not conceive a child as long as their lives were threatened.
The fire occupied her thoughts for some time before she finally muttered, “Brooding never solved a problem.”
She walked over to the room’s west-facing window. Dawn was inching its way across the night sky. Loneliness struck and Anne’s mind went to her brother. It was evening on the island. Most likely, he had dined and was sitting at his desk, focused on the plantation’s reports and accounts.
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