P.C. Cast - Mysteria Nights

“Liar. Now write me out of this scene!”

He shook his head. “Hell, no. I’ve got you right where I’ve always wanted you. And I’m not a liar. In fact, I refuse to touch you while you’re like this. When you’re back to normal, then the loving can begin.”

A tremor rocked her. She didn’t dare hope . . . “The chains will disappear by then, too, and if you think I’m staying here, you’re crazy.”

“You can be rechained.”

Good point. “The pleasuring will never begin, because I’ve decided I don’t want you.”

“Now who’s lying?” He pulled a plush lounge next to the bed and sat, gaze never leaving her. “I’ll make a pact with you. I won’t lie to you, if you won’t lie to me. From now on, we’ll be completely honest with each other. Okay?”

“Whatever you say,” she said in a sugar-sweet tone.

“So what do you think of my bedroom?”

“It’s—” She’d been about to say something mean, but then her sights snagged on the crystal chandelier, dripping with thousands of teardrops. On the intricately carved dresser, orchids spilling from vases. A bejeweled tray provided the centerpiece. “Unexpected,” she finally finished.

“Everything inside the house was a gift from my brother.”

Her head snapped toward him. “I didn’t know you had a brother.”

Falon nodded, his hair dancing over his cheeks. “There’s a lot you don’t know about me, but that’s going to change. We’re going to get to know each other, Glory.”

“No.” That would defeat the purpose of loving and leaving. If he continued this, she would leave, but she would not be unscathed.

“Oh, yes,” he insisted. “And every time you reveal a fact about yourself, you’ll earn a reward.”

Goose bumps spread over her skin. “And if I remain quiet?”

Slowly, he grinned. “You’ll earn a punishment. I have the pen, after all.”

This is not fun. This is not exciting. I am not turned on . “Fine. Tell me how many women you’ve had in here.” There. That should deepen—dampen—her terrible—wonderful—mood.

“You are the first.”

She flashed him a scowl. “I thought we weren’t going to lie to each other anymore.”

“I spoke true. You are the first woman I’ve ever allowed inside this bedroom.”

“What about the fairy? That night—”

He held up a hand for silence. “I sent her home the moment you were out of sight.”

Seriously? Glory didn’t know whether or not to believe him, but she adored the idea of his claim. “What about Kayla?”

“Sent her home, too. I didn’t want her; I wanted you. As you might have guessed, I used her to get your attention.”

“Well, you got it,” she grumbled, then cringed at the admission.

“I noticed you the first day I moved into town, you know,” he said.

He’d noticed her? In a good way? She shivered, feeling as if his hands were already on her, caressing, stoking her desire.

“Cold?” he asked.

She nodded, because she didn’t want to admit his words had ignited a storm of desire inside her.

He rose, grabbed the black silk comforter, and tugged it over her. The material was cool against her skin, but damn it, it didn’t dampen her need. No, it increased it. Every nerve ending she possessed cried for him.

Falon placed a soft kiss on her lips. Automatically she opened her mouth to take it deeper. He pulled away.

A moan slipped from her.

“Soon,” he said as he reclaimed his seat. His voice was tense. “Now, back to the first time I saw you. You were outside with your sisters and selling your potions. At the time, I didn’t know they were potions. I just saw a beautiful woman with rosy skin and hair like flame.”

She gulped, couldn’t speak.

“I wanted you so badly.” As he spoke, his fingertip caressed her thigh. “I was making my way toward you when I heard the words ‘potion’ and ‘witch,’ and then I couldn’t get away from you fast enough.”

Maybe he was telling the truth about his desire for her. Maybe he did like her just the way she was. Maybe . . .

“I never tortured anyone until I met you,” she admitted softly.

His head tilted to the side, and he studied her intently, violet eyes blazing. “Why me?”

“Because,” was all she said.

“Glory.”

Just tell him. She sighed. “Because I wanted you, and I knew I couldn’t have you.”

“You wanted me?” he asked huskily.

“You know I did.” She watched him from the corner of her eye. He leaned back and stretched his legs out and up, the robe falling away and revealing his strong calves. There were calluses on the bottoms of his feet, as if he often ran through the forest without shoes on. Made her wonder if he wore any clothes at all. Her stomach quivered with the thought.

“Tell me about the first time you noticed me. Please.”

Like she could deny him anything now. She thought back to that fateful day, and the quiver in her stomach became a needy ache. Well, another needy ache. She was consumed with them. He’d been moving boxes into this very house. She and her sisters had walked here to welcome him to town. When he spotted them, he’d frozen. Introductions had been made, and he’d smiled coolly but politely at Evie and Godiva. Glory, he’d simply nodded at before looking hastily away.

“I thought you were the most beautiful man I’d ever seen. The sun was shining over you lovingly, and you were sweating. Glistening. You’d taken off your shirt, and dirt smudged your chest.”

His lips twitched. “I’ve noticed you have a thing for manly sweat.”

“I do not.”

“You placed me in a gladiator cell straight from battle, woman. You like men who do physical labor. Admit it.”

“So what! There’s nothing wrong with that.”

“No, there isn’t. It’s cute.” He didn’t give her time to respond. “So why did you want to place me in chains tonight?”

She fought for breath. “You know why.”

“Tell me. Say the words aloud.”

“I—I’d decided to be with you. Just once. You know, to purge myself of you like you suggested before.”

“And you thought you needed chains for that?”

“No. I just . . . I wanted to be in control of everything.”

“I don’t think so,” he said with a shake of his head. “In the forest, you almost came when I pinned your wrists over your head and took control away from you. Right now, your nipples are hard, and your skin is besieged by goose bumps. You like where you are.”

Her mouth dried as the realization settled inside her. He was right. She loved where she was. She loved that he could do anything he wanted with her, and she couldn’t stop him. Didn’t want to stop him.

Would one night be enough? She couldn’t possibly learn all there was to know about his body, his pleasure . . . her own.

Oh, damn. Already she was doing what she’d sworn she wouldn’t: falling deeper, wanting more. Fear dug sharp claws inside her. “Maybe this isn’t a good idea,” she said, squirming. “Maybe we should stop here and now and part. As friends. I won’t hurt you again. You have my word. And you even can keep the pen.”

“Oh, I’m keeping the pen,” he said darkly, “but I’m not letting you go.” He pushed to his feet. He was scowling.

“You’re angry. Why? I’m setting you free from our war.”

“I hate the thought of you walking out of this house—ever—and I don’t understand it.” The robe fell from his shoulders and onto the floor, pooling at his feet. She sucked in a breath and simply drank in his magnificence. He was harder than before, his erection so long it stretched higher than his navel.

He grabbed the pen and notebook and started writing. Before she could ask what he was doing, the chains fell away from her. Tentative, she eased up. But she didn’t leave; she couldn’t make herself, though common sense was screaming that she do so inside her mind. This was what she’d asked for.