A Wicked Desire (Creatures of Darkness 3), page 20
Her eyes flew open on a sob.
Her struggles ceased the instant she caught sight of Knox. He’d been trying to rouse her from the nightmare. Yet another one, more terrifying than the last.
His toned upper body was looming over her as he held her wrists in a tight grip by her head. She spotted a healing set of scratches on his face. Yet his expression was so uncharacteristic. He almost looked concerned for her. Was this another facet to the dream?
She glanced around, wondering if another dream-doctor was poised to jump out at her.
“You okay?” Knox asked evenly.
Though her heart still pounded, she nodded. When he released her and returned to his side of the bed, she surprised them both by burrowing into his side, desperately in need of comfort.
His arms came around her. “Christ, you’re shaking.” He rubbed her back. “Must have been quite a nightmare. Do you want to tell me about it?”
She shook her head. With his shoulder as a pillow and her face against his chest, she couldn’t stop his musky scent from invading her nostrils. She breathed deep, using it as a soothing balm.
“Do you have them often?”
“Since the mine.”
He grew silent, petting her hair and drawing her further into the cradle of his arms. Over the last few nights, she’d awoken from a nightmare to an empty bed and cold shadows to keep her company. She closed her eyes and sighed, reveling in the warmth of his body.
This tenderness—from him—it was dangerous. She couldn’t trust it. Nonetheless, a part of her knew she could grow used to it.
“Knox,” she said against his skin. “Don’t be so nice to me, okay?”
He chuckled. “I’m not sure anyone has ever accused me of being nice. But very well. I’ll stop first thing in the morning. Sleep now. I’ve got you.”
The patter of running water woke her, and she found herself alone in the bed, swaddled in the plush comforter. She blamed it on that muddled place between asleep and awake when the shower cut off and she was unable to block the image of water beads glistening down silky, chiseled muscle.
She groaned with irritation and rubbed her eyes.
Dangerous!
He’d held her close all night, languidly rubbing her back till she’d fallen asleep again. And when she’d stirred, feeling the grips of another nightmare, he’d resumed lightly trailing his fingers along her spine, murmuring, “Shh. I’ve got you.”
Gravely, she tried to remind herself of all the reasons she should hate him—did hate him. He was arrogant, controlling, unequivocally insensitive, last night being the exception. He was crude and ruthless. Rude and entitled. Not to mention threatening her life was his favorite pastime.
Now she could add thief to the list, because she feared he’d just stolen a chunk of her heart.
He emerged from the bathroom with nothing but a white towel wrapping his waist. Just as she’d envisioned, droplets of water gleamed off the hard plains of his torso. As he crossed the room, he flashed her a movie-star grin. “Morning.”
Someone’s in a good mood.
Then he disappeared into the walk-in closet, leaving the door open. She mourned the loss of the sight of him.
She bit her lip. So screwed!
Scolding herself, she slipped out of bed. On her way to wash up, she halted as she noticed all the new clothes that now filled the closet. One side was packed with suits, the other lined with gorgeous dresses. She had no doubt the drawers were filled with the finest lingerie.
Knox’s back was to her. Strong brawny shoulders tapered to a lean waist. His muscles rippled and stretched as he rifled through his options. With every twitch in his thick bicep, she seemed more transfixed, unable to look away.
As she studied him, a tempest of white-hot desire fluttered through her. She felt guilty over stealing this glimpse, thinking, Could I enjoy his body? Would it be so bad to give in? It’s supposedly my nature, after all.
As if he’d timed it, he dropped the towel.
She hissed in a breath, spun from the sight of his glorious body, and then rushed into the bathroom.
She thought she heard a devilish chuckle before she closed the door.
Bastard.
After showering—water turned to cold for obvious reasons—she cautiously reentered the bedroom and found it was empty. From the expansive wardrobe, she chose the most modest outfit she could find, which just so happened to be the little black dress she had tried on the day before. It was as if Knox had ordered the most revealing clothes ever made by human hands. The undergarments were even worse: drawers full of thongs and matching bras, garters and stockings.
In her haste to pack, she had grabbed a few of her functional cotton undergarments, but she suspected Knox had managed to do away with them, because they were nowhere to be found. She had no choice but to don one of the lacy numbers he’d picked out for her.
Just as she finished dressing, the scent of warm syrup wafted up from downstairs.
Strolling to the balcony, she rested her forearms on the banister and glanced over the edge. Knox stood over a hot skillet, spatula in hand. As if he were a trained chef, he flipped a large pancake with the flick of his wrist.
“Impressive,” she called.
He glanced up, smiling. “Just takes practice.” A moment later, he held the skillet over a plate, and the pancake slid out, landing perfectly at the center. Then he transferred the dish to the table along with a fork and a small container of syrup. “Come,” he said. “Eat.” He went back to the stove and laid out a couple slices of bacon. They sizzled on contact.
He’d cooked her breakfast?
How…domestic.
Shouldn’t he be railing at her for all the money she’d cost him yesterday?
She wasn’t about to bring that up though.
Was this some kind of revenge breakfast where he’d end up eating it all in front of her, leaving her nothing? It sure did smell delicious.
Dubious, yet curious, she descended the stairs. He caught sight of her outfit and did a double take. Eyes going heavy, his gaze swept her slowly. When he got to the open-toed black strappy high heels, another kind of darkness stole over his features.
She shivered at the carnal attention as she took a seat at the table. She coated the pancake in syrup and took a heaping bite before he could snatch it away.
“Mmm.”
The grin returned to his expression. Laugh lines creased the corner of his eyes as he watched her enjoy herself. She blinked, struck by how that easy smile transformed his hard features into something so much more handsome. Too handsome.
When he turned back to the sizzling pan, she openly studied him, suspicious, almost desperate to find a hint of the old Knox somewhere in his behavior. Surely this was an act. A trick, or an attempt to soften her—which wasn’t working. Not one bit.
But he seemed different in some way.
A little more easy going.
Against her will, her initial impression of him was being challenged.
Did she think he was suddenly a kind, considerate individual who actually cared if she had heart-shuddering nightmares? Hell no! But he had held her when she needed it. He’d made her breakfast. And when this whole escapade had seemed impossible, he’d gotten her on this ship, was helping her to save Mace.
Even last night when he’d been angry with her, more angry than she’d seen him in weeks, he’d done nothing in retaliation...as of yet.
But was he doing it all just to get in her pants?
That was a lot of work for a simple lay. If that was all he was after, he couldn’t walk ten paces on this ship without bumping into a willing female. Why was he so focused on her?
Part of his game?
That didn’t make sense. If he wanted, he could just take her. She didn’t have the physical strength to stop him. Perhaps the threat of her magic was keeping him at bay? Although that wouldn’t be a problem if she was unconscious.
He’d told her he would be the kind of man she forced him to be. But she truly didn’t believe he was that kind of man.
Her mind was still stutter-stepping to reconcile the Knox on this trip with the Knox from back at home when he presented her with crisp bacon.
She eyed him warily. “Thanks.” Then she pinched one warm strip between her thumb and forefinger and bit it in half.
She groaned again. Bacon makes everything better!
Chewing, she waved the uneaten half in his general direction. “You seem unusually chipper this morning.”
He sat across from her, intertwining his fingers on the table. “Do I?”
She studied him. Was her mind just screwing with her, or did he seem unusually anticipatory? It was in the set of his shoulders, the look in his eyes.
Aw, man. He was setting her up for something. She knew she wasn’t going to get away with her monumental fit last night.
“How about you tell me what’s up?” She leaned back and munched the rest of her bacon.
The right side his lips curled into a calculating grin. He reached inside his back pocket, pulled out a small flat, rectangular object, and stabbed one corner into her unfinished pancakes.
She swallowed her bacon. It landed in her stomach like a jagged ball of lead.
The black card simply read: Master.
Chapter 23
What the hell am I doing here!?
Cora craned her head around to follow the sight of a leather-clad woman in the tallest, blackest, glossiest boots she had ever seen, towing a man leashed at the neck by a spiked collar. The man was gazing at his “owner” adoringly.
Music thumped as the couple passed by. The vast array of shifting, multicolored lights painted their skin and glinted brilliantly off their many metallic accessories. In fact, nearly everything in the club was bathed in rainbow hues.
The crowd was varied, from the newly legal, ID’s in hand, to middle-aged business types, to cougars on the prowl. Most of the men were clothed respectably with a few exceptions—like the leather-clad men and a group of frat boys in the corner wearing blue jeans and jerseys.
The women were dressed a thousand times more diversely; everything from micro minis to schoolgirl outfits to naughty nurses, and…are those cat ears—with a matching tail?
Whatever costume they wore, sex was the flavor of the evening. It charged the air like electricity, coated the room with a heightened sense of awareness. The visual stimuli alone were enticing enough, but add the sexy house music bass and beautiful half-dressed servers and the room was ripe for an orgy.
So how did she find herself sitting at a red linen-draped table in a sex club sipping Mai Tais?
She still wasn’t quite sure how Knox had talked her into this. Coerced was more like it.
At breakfast, when he had presented her with that club card—all access, of course—an unexpected thrill had feathered through her. She had immediately swatted that thrill away and mentally slapped herself for good measure.
Yet something in her expression had betrayed her, she was sure. But all Knox said was, “Today I’m taking you to Fusion.” That was the name of the club that offered an arrangement of erotic pleasures.
“If I don’t want to go?” she countered.
“Your succubi curiosity will lead you there eventually, even if I don’t take you. You have an access card now.” He’d gestured toward the square piece of plastic, still resting in her pancakes. She had refused to touch the thing.
Though she wanted to deny it, the idea of the club had been burning an intrigued spot in the back of her mind.
When she was nineteen, she’d snuck into her first nightclub, which had turned out to be more like Fusion than the tame dance club she had thought it to be.
She’d watched with eager fascination as couples shamelessly petted each other. Slinked through the back rooms where partners stripped each other down in animal lust. Two-way mirrors allowed others to watch, offering the illusion of privacy, though everyone involved knew otherwise.
Larger rooms had held great beds at the center like altars, with space all around for viewers to be physically present while a hot and heavy couple went at it, usually with an unspoken invitation for any and all to join the fun.
Cora never had, but she had enjoyed the view a time or two, or three, or…well, in regards to her sex education, she’d been a PhD by age twenty.
“You’re thinking about it even now,” Knox had observed evenly, stealing a bite of her cooling pancakes.
“So what if I am. I told you I’m not having sex with you. That isn’t going to change any time soon.” Even if he had been sweet to her last night—that had been the exception, not the rule. He was still ruthless, calculating, and apparently determined.
“Keep telling yourself that.” He’d looked less convinced than she had sounded. “In any case, that’s not my intentions. Not today anyway. I merely want to give you the tour.”
“Why?”
He replied with a knowing look. “Because I like that glint of interest in your eyes.” He hesitated for a second, as if deciding whether or not to say more. “And I want to see your reactions to certain…tastes.” The last word had been little more than a growl, a provocation. Can you take what I give? his eyes had said. Do you want it?
She had tried to remain stoic.
Then he’d made her an offer. Another of his bargains.
“Tell you what,” he’d said. “You know what I want. Go to the club with me, just to take a look, and if your interest isn’t…aroused”—there was an impish curl to his lips—“then I’ll back off.”
“Back off?” She said, straightening in her seat. “As in no more trying to sleep with me? Just like that?”
He nodded, “Just like that.”
“You must be getting desperate to make such a bargain.”
He gave her a honey please look. “As always, the odds are with the house.”
In other words, if she agreed, he thought he had it in the bag. The ego…
But this could work in her favor.
What he offered was irresistible. Basically, if she didn’t get turned on, she’d be free and clear. No more stressing over Knox’s next attempt to seduce her, no more romantic dinners and gravelly tones and innuendo and hard kisses that stole her thoughts away.
She had known what to expect with a place like Fusion. She’d mentally prepared herself. The odds might be with the house, but Knox didn’t know he was gambling against a professional.
The song switched to something sultry and fast-paced, bringing her back to the present. She sucked down the last of her Mai Tai through the tiny straw, aware that Knox was across the table watching her, his gaze intense. A wolf in the henhouse. Well, this hen was off limits!
She took a second to congratulate herself.
All night she’d been observing her surroundings, boldly acting unimpressed. She could do this. No biggie. The place was actually pretty tame so far.
Of course, she knew this was only the mingling lounge. There was a set of double doors to the right of the bar, guarded by a burly attendant. Every now and then, someone would brandish an access card and venture inside.
There was more to Fusion. Probably a lot more. And even if she didn’t know this from experience, Knox’s cocksure grin was a clear indicator.
“You ready?” he said, standing and holding out his hand to her.
As ready as I’ll ever be. She slipped her hand into his and stood, but he merely observed her for a moment. “You seem almost at ease,” he said. “As if you know what to expect.” He finished with a scrutinizing look.
“So do you,” she deflected, not bothering to hide her own suspicion. “How is that, I wonder?”
“You still think I knew all about this place before we boarded?”
She let her silence answer for her.
He shook his head. “I checked it out after you ditched me yesterday, just a quick look-see.” His arrogant gaze latched onto hers. “I purchased a membership directly.”
She gulped. “Why not take someone willing in there with you?” she wondered, more curious than jealous—at least, that’s what she was trying to tell herself.
Ever since they had entered, women had been eye-fucking him from across the room, sending him seductive glances filled with obvious invitation, even though, for all intents and purposes, she and Knox were together (as in, they had arrived together, were sitting together, and therefore it could be assumed they were together together). But in a place like this, that sort of thing wasn’t an issue.
Too many of those women were stunning to look at, and that fact landed a swift kick to Cora’s self-esteem. Every now and again, one of the braver ladies would happen by, swishing voluptuous hips or adjusting a tight bodice for no other reason than trying to draw her date’s interest.
Come on, ladies. Girl code? A little respect?
But Knox didn’t acknowledge them. Not even once. His gaze was all for her. Almost laser focused.
Why did that send little flutters through her? More than once she’d had to check a gloating smile as each temptresses pouted and turned away, disappointed.
Did he really want her as much as he seemed to? Or was this all an act? And if so, to what end? Was he still playing a game? Was he going for checkmate?
The thought saddened her.
She did feel cornered. And yet, she wasn’t as concerned about that as she should be.
* * *
She wondered why he didn’t switch his focus to other women?
Did she really not know why he couldn’t? For a second he had almost thought wouldn’t.
The first time she’d asked him that, he’d assumed it was a jab, a vicious reminder that he no longer had that option. Now he wasn’t so sure. When she didn’t think he was looking, she would glare at some of the women trying to entice him. Did she continue to ask him that because she was…insecure?
Lassoing her waist, he pulled her into the hard line of his body, letting her feel how aroused he was for her, how aroused he always was for her—but she didn’t know that. She didn’t need to know that. It would give her more power over him, and he feared she already had too much.
