Playing With Fire - Katie MacAlister [41]
‘‘Oh, my poor Mayling, my poor, innocent Mayling.’’ Huge tears rolled down her cheeks. ‘‘But . . . this evening . . . the wyvern . . .’’
‘‘Picked the wrong woman to have a future with,’’ I said, my face placid despite the fact that my soul was weeping tears of the purest sorrow.
Chapter Nine
‘‘It’s not fair,’’ I said, closing the door to my room, intent on venting my spleen the only way I could—to an empty room.
‘‘Life, you mean? No, it isn’t, although we do the best we can to compensate for that fact,’’ a male voice answered, causing me to utter a little shriek, shadow, and spin around to face the bathroom from which the voice emerged.
I had a horrible feeling my mouth dropped open a little bit at the sight of the man who stood there. The room was lit by candles on every available surface, casting a lovely warm glow that seemed to caress his body as he leaned against the door frame. He wore a calf-length black silk robe, matching sleeping pants . . . and nothing else but a smile. My eyes flitted from his beautiful eyes to his delectable lips, now curved in a sensual smile, to a bared chest that so fit my idea of male beauty, it left my mouth dry. ‘‘What are you doing here?’’ I finally managed to ask, my voice a hoarse croak.
Gabriel’s dimples deepened as he held up a familiar dusty bottle. ‘‘I brought a little libation.’’
I managed by an intense output of will to drag my eyes off him, adopting what I hoped was a sophisticated expression of nonchalance. ‘‘How is it you can see me when I’m shadowed? The room is dark enough that you shouldn’t be able to see me unless I’m right next to you.’’
‘‘You are my mate,’’ he said, strolling across the room to where a couple of wineglasses sat on a tiny table. ‘‘You cannot remain hidden from my eyes.’’ He lifted his head for a moment as if he was scenting the air. ‘‘Nor from my nose.’’
I let the shadow drop, frowning. ‘‘I apologize if I offend your delicate senses.’’
‘‘On the contrary,’’ he said in that deep, velvet voice that made me shiver, ‘‘your scent is quite intoxicating.’’
Intrigued despite myself, I took a couple of steps into the room. ‘‘Intoxicating how?’’
He poured the dragon’s blood wine into two glasses, offering me one. I shook my head.
‘‘You smell of . . .’’ He paused for a moment, closing his eyes as he breathed deeply. ‘‘You smell of the woodlands, but not of the bubbling golden stream as your twin does. You smell as if you were born in the dark, hidden glens, cool and mysterious, but infinitely deep. You smell of smoke and shadows, just like a little glossy-headed bird who flits between the darkness and light. Your essence is an intricate tapestry woven from the scents of the earth itself.’’
He moved toward me slowly as he spoke, his words wrapping themselves around me in a silken cord of sudden need and desire, forbidden to me, but no longer denied.
‘‘You smell like a woman, my woman, and I will be grateful to the end of my time that you have chosen me to be your mate.’’
Who could resist such alluring words? I swayed against him, my body coming to life in a way that I never knew it could. Deep, hidden parts of me that had only been utilized in a most mundane fashion suddenly began to tingle at his nearness. When his breath brushed against me, I didn’t back away, as I knew I should. I lifted my chin to meet his mouth, allowing my lips to caress his, the skin of my arms burning where they touched the bare flesh of his chest.
The sane part of me, the part that knew who I was and what would happen should I forget it, screamed dire warnings, but I seemed to be unable to do anything but focus on the sensations Gabriel brought to life deep within me. ‘‘This isn’t right,’’ I murmured against his mouth.
‘‘It was meant to be,’’ he answered, his hands at his sides as I let more of my body lean against him. I had a feeling he was deliberately holding himself back, allowing me time to get comfortable with him. How he knew I was nervous