He’d run the gamut of her expressions tonight. He’d seen her demanding, aggressive with lust, eyes glittering wildly as she’d arched and bucked beneath him. He’d seen her soft, sweetly yielding when he’d taken her from behind, on her hands and knees in front of the full-length mirror in the boudoir. He’d held her head back by a fist in her long silky hair so he could watch her face in the mirror. Watch those slanted green-gold eyes narrow and gleam like a cat in heat as she purred with pleasure. Watch her full breasts swaying as his heavy testicles slapped rhythmically against her ass and thighs. Watch her watching him do it to her. He’d seen her dreamy and lost as he’d licked and lapped her to peak after shuddering peak. And he’d even seen her looking almost frightened as he’d wrung yet one more delicious shudder from her.
If he’d had his full Fae power he would have eased her virgin soreness; as it was, he’d had to stop because she couldn’t take any more. So he’d gently cleansed her as she lay sated in bed, built up the fire, then gone down to the kitchen for food, realizing they’d missed dinner. In fact, dinner had been over for many, many hours.
He’d run into Dageus in the dim, shadowy kitchens, where the Highlander had been pilfering ice cream from the freezer. The younger Keltar twin had taken one look at him, laughed, and said, “I doona suspect we’ll be seeing you for a few days, will we, Old One?”
“You’ll see me by Lughnassadh,” Adam had replied with a devilish grin. “And quit calling me Old One. I don’t call you Young One. Adam. It’s just Adam.”
“Aye, ’tis Adam, then,” Dageus had replied easily.
As Adam had padded barefoot back up the cool stone stairs in the castle, toting a tray laden with food, his human body sore in places he’d not known a man’s body got sore, he’d suffered another of those sudden sharp pains in his chest and had nearly dropped the tray. He’d had to stop and lean against the balustrade, gasping until it passed. He’d realized it was a good thing he would be getting out of his mortal body soon, because something was clearly wrong with the one Aoibheal had given him.
By the time he’d gotten back to the bedchamber, she’d been sound asleep, sprawled unselfconsciously across the bed, her nude body gleaming softly in the firelight. She was a vision of tangled blond hair, sex-flushed skin, and lush curves, a vibrant mortal, golden glow against silver satiny sheets.
Christ, she’s amazing, Adam marveled, standing at the edge of the bed, staring down at his slumbering woman. Trailing the pad of a finger over the firm high peak of a breast. Even unconscious, her body reacted, the rosy nipple tightening. With a muffled oath he forced himself to drop his hand and back up a step, or he’d have his mouth on that nipple again, dragging the edge of his teeth across it the way he’d found she liked. And he’d hurt her, and he refused to hurt her.
She’d responded to him with all the pure, unstinting passion that he’d sensed lurking within her. All that fire she’d freed and turned on him, openly, without restraint, wanton to the core, and he’d reveled in it, soaked it up, gloried in it. She’d made him feel things he’d never felt before. Things he could spend immortal centuries pondering and perhaps still not fathom.
And for that gift you’ll take her soul?
He flinched, shrugged it off. What—did human bodies come burdened with human consciences? I’ll give her immortality in exchange.
You’ll give her the choice? You’ll tell her?
Not a chance in hell, he retorted silently.
If Gabrielle was to be his own private Eden, there would be no apple of knowledge proffered. Adam knew full well what had happened to that other Adam. A little knowledge always got a man booted out of the Garden.
He would not watch Gabrielle O’Callaghan die. He’d watched too many humans die. She was his now. She’d made her choice. She’d come to him, accepted him.
It would take a far better man than he to let her go where he could never follow.
Dageus smiled as he slipped through the darkened castle, one slightly melting pint of ice cream in his hand. He’d developed quite a taste for the modern-day treat, and a liking for teasing Chloe with the cool creaminess of it against skin scorching from his kisses. Licking it from her lips, her nipples, the svelte hollow of a hip.
They’d been making love for hours. Desire was in the air, the castle nigh smelled of romance. Tupping rode the night breeze and he was glad of it.
For if ever a man needed the healing touch of a woman, it was Adam.
Being possessed by the Draghar had changed Dageus in many ways, ways he was still trying to understand. He’d been systematically sorting through the vast amounts of knowledge they’d left inside his skull, extracting what could be used for good.