Revenge Wears Rubies (30 page)

He was astride her face, and her lips could feel his impatient cock pressing against her, requesting her renewed attentions. But even more forbidden, his head was firmly planted between her thighs, and his tongue wasted no time in finding her clit as his hands spread open the petals of her sex so that there was nothing his mouth couldn’t reach.

She almost giggled, but the magic of the dark held sway and she drank in the raw power of her hunger for him, and banished her blushes as she took him back into the eager confines of her mouth and parted her thighs to silently bid him to feast as he wished.

Galen lost himself in the decadent dance of giving and receiving pleasure until he wasn’t sure how much more he could take. She’d surpassed his fantasies, and the reality of her mouth and hands on his cock was more potent than any opiate—and just as addictive. The fire pooling behind in his balls was a pressure so sweet it was setting his teeth on edge. And while he couldn’t keep himself from savoring the promised bliss, he hesitated to allow himself to release—fearful of shocking her with a flood of crème in her mouth.

He pulled out with a groan and repositioned her with a primal growl in his throat so that she was astride his lap, facing him. Kneeling together, he penetrated the tight, wet confines of her body almost instantly and, only then, remembered to breathe again. They were intertwined so tightly, Galen relished the perfection of the fit between them. His hips pressed his cock up into her quivering channel, battering against the opening of her womb, until the rough curls above his shaft were teasing her clit, and he kissed her breasts as they bounced against him—laving and teasing the tips, using his teeth and tongue to pinch and stimulate her, until she cried for more.

Rocking up into her, Galen felt the fire inside of him roar into an inferno of blue white desire that lingered just out of reach, deliberately lashing him forward in a primeval dance of conquest and surrender.

Closer and closer, he pushed and pressed without hammering, for he couldn’t withdraw to strike up into her. This was more of an endless caress. They were locked together so perfectly. Like a mortar and pestle, each movement was minimized but the slightest shift touched everything. It was friction everywhere, and Haley began to almost keen as he slowly meted out his thrusts in time with the beat of her heart.

She threw her head back and he could feel her orgasm all around him as her body released a flow of its own, coating his cock in the rich honey of her climax.

His own release came on the heels of hers, and he held onto her as the fire imploded through him and he was robbed of speech and thought for long moments, even after the last spasm had wrenched the crème from his cock.

They were both quiet as they settled back against the pillows, trying to recover themselves as their hearts finally slowed. Not a word was spoken as she tucked back against his side, and Galen waited while her breathing evened out and she dropped off into a deep sleep.

He held her in the dark and stared up into the void.
This is like some twisted version of Psyche and Cupid.
The nightmare’s visions unfurled in his head, and Galen pulled her closer against him.
I don’t want you to see what I am, Haley.

Galen paced around the small room, stopping only to pick up one or two strange objects from Rowan’s collection before setting them back down again. “Do you think objects can be cursed?”

“Why? Do you think we lined our pockets with bad luck, my friend?”

“I don’t want to believe anything of the kind. Just the opposite, Rowan. I want to believe that something good truly did come out of all of it in the end. That there is some justice in the world.”

“You want to believe? My goodness, Galen, how far have we fallen?”

“Far enough that I think I’m trying to make sense of everything on my own. I just don’t trust the Fates to balance it all out.”

“Are you sleeping at all, these days?”

Galen smiled, unwilling to admit that most of his current lack of sleep was due to the distracting and beautiful Haley Moreland. “Some.”

“I’ll send you home with a packet to steep in some hot water. Try a cup before you retire and see if it provides any relief.”

“I thought you’d advised against tonics.”

“Most of them have an alcohol base, Galen, and will send you to your grave for a little more rest than you’re bargaining for. The packet I’ll make for you is natural herbs and a bit of tea. You can add a bit of honey if the flavor doesn’t suit,” Rowan said in his most professional manner.

“No wonder your patients adore you.” Galen abandoned his study of the curios to occupy his favorite chair. “You could coddle a man to death, Dr. West.”

“Yes, but he’d never complain,” Darius said as he knocked at the doorway, nodding a greeting before entering to join them without formality.

“Trust me, they complain,” Rowan countered, stretching out his legs as Darius poured himself a drink and sat down.

“Why do I feel as if all of us are dancing on the edge of a cliff? As if whatever tragedy we escaped on the other side of the world is stalking us even now?”

Rowan sighed and took a small sip of his brandy. “Who can say? I think each of us brought a demon or two with us into the dark, Galen. Nothing is banished or resolved through suffering, and then to find ourselves so . . . unexpectedly fortunate when we stumbled onto that treasure. Some have spent a portion of our shares discreetly while others prefer to wait as we agreed. We’ve all saved the more spectacular gems for the future, but we wouldn’t be human if we didn’t worry about the consequences of cheating fate so completely.”

“A demon or two . . .” Galen considered it, then looked at his friend with new eyes. “Did you bring a demon with you to India?”

“I did.”

Galen waited, but Rowan said nothing more. He looked at Darius, who simply nodded. Finally, Galen spoke aloud the question that haunted him. “Can a man cheat the Fates?”

“The Greeks didn’t think so,” Darius noted quietly.

“And what do you think, Dr. West?” Galen asked.

“You don’t want to know what I think, Galen.”

“I asked, didn’t I?”

Rowan finished the rest of his drink in one smooth swallow and set the glass down. “I don’t believe in fate. I believe that we can, by choice, manifest the best or the worst for ourselves—and those demons, Galen, they feed off of the worst parts of our soul and grow only when we allow them to. If I . . .” His words faltered for a moment, his eyes taking on a faraway look from some unspoken memory. “If I dwell on the mistakes I’ve made, or the disappointments . . .” Rowan caught himself in the dark reverie and instantly smiled. “Then what a glum friend I would make!”

“And your philosophy, Thorne?” Galen asked.

“I think the Greeks had it right enough, but perhaps not the way you’re looking at it.” Darius set his drink down. “It was more like destiny. I like to think of it as the path best suited to our purpose—and not some punishment we can’t avoid like an errant child. After all, maybe the worst scrapes are when we’re not fulfilling our divine potential, and the Fates are there to push us back onto the path.”

Galen shook his head. “I like my friends, no matter their moods and philosophies, and I’m grateful they tolerate mine.” He pushed up from the smooth soft leather chair, restlessly returning to one of the shelves to look at a small statuette of the Egyptian god Horus. “But I worry now that I’ve given too much to that worst part of me—that demon in the dark. And if there’s a path, I think I’m so far off into the woods that it’s becoming more and more difficult to recognize the man I once thought I would become.” He turned back, attempting a bit of black humor. “Do villains even have friends?”

“You aren’t a villain, Galen,” Darius stated immediately.

Rowan was equally quick to protest. “The fact that you would even worry about such a thing disqualifies you.” Rowan also stood to cross to Galen. “Similar I think to men who wonder if they’re insane. No one who stands drooling in corners ever seems to question it or worry what their friends will say.”

Galen closed his eyes for a moment, then smiled. “You have a talent for imagery that never fails.”

“Hawke”—Rowan’s tone grew more serious—“you’ve told us almost nothing of what is troubling you, and out of respect, I’ve not pressed you for any details. But if it’s atonement you’re seeking, then I’m afraid it’s in your own hands.”

“Atonement.” Galen tasted the word, savoring the bitter-sweet feel of it on his tongue.

“It’s your demon to do with what you will, Galen.” Rowan crossed his arms and sat on the edge of his desk. “And I’m sure I’m not the first man to advise a friend to just set the damn thing down and give yourself permission to be happy—and to sleep.”

“You make it sound so simple, Dr. West.”

“You’re not cursed, Hawke. You’re just stubborn,” Darius added sagely before a smile undermined his serious pronouncement.

“Like hell!” Galen muttered the oath before he thought better of it, and then they all laughed at the inescapable truth of it.

On the short ride back to his home, Galen leaned his head back against the seat and closed his eyes.
My demon . . . so I need my permission . . . is it that simple, really?

Galen sat up suddenly, the epiphany happening in a quick rush that almost made him cough.
Why can’t it be that simple? I want her, I need her . . . I love her. Oh, God, I’m in love with Haley Moreland.

Galen’s brow furrowed as he measured out the truth of that last thought. From Haley’s perspective, the matter was entirely settled in his favor. As lecherous and impossible as he’d been, she’d given herself into his hands and . . . she was quietly and rightfully expecting his proposal any day now.

Except, a part of him chimed in darkly, for the lies, deception, and the matter of a certain vow he’d made. But Galen shook his head and ignored the voice.
It won’t matter if I make her happy.

Chapter
18

On impulse, Galen ordered the carriage to let them out at the corner near his home. She’d been so tender with him the previous night when he’d battled his demons, he couldn’t wait to throw off the restrictions of a clandestine affair—and all the lies he’d told. He’d been feeling more and more like a thief, and it wasn’t a sensation he’d enjoyed. But now he’d accepted that every minute with Haley had an appeal he didn’t have to relinquish.

Haley gave him a questioning look. “Has there been a change in plans?”

“I suddenly thought that I would like to walk in the moonlight for a few minutes before going inside.” He traced the outline of her thighs and knees through the layers of her skirts. “There’s hardly anyone about at this hour, but we can pretend it’s a noontime stroll and that we’ve nothing to hide.”