She tugged at her arm, and after a brief hesitation, he let her go. For a long moment, silence reigned in the rocking carriage. The air between them was taut with indecision and an ill-advised, unspoken desire. With very little wooing, he could have her, he knew. Right here in the carriage, or in her house, minutes from now. But she wasn’t a harlot or a woman one took as a mistress. And he wasn’t the marrying kind.
Her lips parted as if she would speak any minute and order him out, yet she did not. A delicate, pink tongue slid over her full lower lip; then white teeth sank into it as if she would unconsciously punish herself for wanting him.
What would that mouth of hers taste like? Her throat? The secret feminine heart of her that she kept safely hidden and tucked high under those prim skirts?
He shifted, feeling his sex stir.
No! The rule he’d established when he was eighteen was ironclad. He did
not
mate humans. No exceptions.
But you could kiss one
.
In that way, he might learn more of what she truly was. Not everything, perhaps—not as much as his talent would tell him if they were to mate. And there were intimate engagements that technically fell shy of mating—embraces that would hint at whether she was as innocent as she claimed in the matter of her family’s shame. And he found that he needed to know.
So what was stopping him? He had an hour or two to kill until the moon came. The salon was safe under the protective veil he’d constructed with his talents. His brothers would watch over things there until his return. None of them need ever know what happened here between him and this woman.
Outside the carriage, the storm turned furious. Inside, he and Alexa Patrizzi were intimately cocooned by muffled sounds that seemed distant—lashing rain and the clatter of wheels on puddled cobblestones.
Her face went prissy again, and she took a deep breath, looking as if she had summoned the will to remove him. “Signor. . .”
“Fifty hells,” he muttered. He was about to do something stupid.
Signorina Patrizzi drew back, wary when he leaned forward. Resting his forearms on his thighs, Sevin wrapped his hands under her knees and gently eased her forward. Just a few inches—enough so that her legs came between his.
“Signor, stop it.” She pushed at his hold, trying to straighten. “I’m not going to—”
“Let me have you?” he finished for her.
She could feel the heat of his touch through the fabric of her dress. The gentle rub of masculine fingers at the tender hollows behind her knees.
Mmm.
The sensation shot a strange ache all the way through her core, making her want to relax her spine against the seat back and melt into him. Instead, she curled her gloved fingers into claws over his wrists.
“Whatever game you intend, do not play it with me,” she told him levelly. “You are no doubt only feeling ... excitable ... in the way of your kind, due to the impending rise of the moon. I really think it would be best if you return to the salon.”
“Don’t worry, signorina. Alexa. I won’t seduce you.” His tone was easy, confident. It made her far less certain of her ability to resist him, should he attempt to do just that. “And do you know why?”
His head lifted and she caught his mirrored gaze, seeing herself reflected there. “Because we’re in a carriage? Common decency? Because I’d shoot you if you tried?” she suggested sweetly.
Lord Sevin chuckled, low and dark, as if not wanting to be amused by her, but unable to help himself. Then he responded with a slow, negative shake of his dark head. “Because my family means everything to me. And because your family was an enemy to mine.” His hand caught one of hers, his thumb finding the naked pulse at her wrist between glove and sleeve. “And because you are human.”
“Well, that’s settled then,” Alexa said softly. “We won’t be lovers.”
His words about his family had deeply affected her. Like him, her family had once been everything to her. Until a few months ago, that is, when she had discovered the truth—that they’d been villains of the worst kind. And then there was her recent unfortunate experience in Venice to consider as well. Really, did she dare trust her disastrously poor judgment of anyone ever again?
“No,” he agreed easily. “We won’t be lovers.”
He’d taken her hand now, and she watched like a rabbit to his wolf as he plucked at the tips of her gloves each in turn, with the fingers of his free hand.
“But,” he went on, “for the length of a carriage ride, let us flirt at the edges of such a possibility. Tempt ourselves with what cannot be.”
Five gentle tugs came on her fingers, each one sending a sharp corresponding tug of arousal curling through her. And then her bare hand was resting in his larger one and being lifted to caress the line of his jaw.
“A touch,” he went on, and then turned his lips into her palm. “A kiss.”
It was such a simple occurrence, and yet a monumental one. Her unclothed hand had never been held by that of a man she didn’t know, much less kissed. And never by any man so overwhelmingly. . . masculine.
She closed the hand he held and pulled it into a fist at her breast, where her blood beat an erratic drum. Within her palm she could still feel the warmth of his jaw, the soft rasp of the early evening stubble that darkened it, the sweet press of his mouth. “But we’re only five minutes from my home—” she murmured, the beginnings of a feeble protest.
“Fifteen.” At her surprised look he shrugged, a loose, easy movement that made her want him. “Yes, I know where you live. I told you this isn’t the first time I’ve thought about you in this way.”
Her eyes fell to his lips as he spoke. They were beautifully shaped, like those of the Renaissance statues she’d seen in the National Museum. It certainly was not the first time she’d thought of him in this way either. But those were daydreams.
This was real. Did he really wish to hold her? To crush his mouth to hers? A man as beautiful as he could have anyone. Why
her?
And why was she considering his suggestion? After all, he had told her only moments ago that he did not believe in her innocence.
Her attorney had instructed her that it was of the utmost importance that she live a respectable life. Her behavior in the years ahead must be above reproach if the successful resolution of their litigation on her behalf was to stand up to scrutiny.
But she was not meant to lead a lonely life. Despite recent disappointments, she longed to know a man’s loving, his embrace, his kisses. This handsome stranger was offering her a brief taste of these things she craved. Fifteen minutes’ worth. Then he’d promised to leave her to the decades of respectability and isolation that awaited her.
“Very well,” Alexa said briskly. “We will throw caution to the wind until the end of this ride, but no more. So flirt with me—a woman you suspect to be your enemy. I won’t stop you, within reason. And I’m curious. You and your brothers have quite the reputation. Though so far you have done little more than a casual suitor might. I’m not really impressed—”
Another laugh rumbled from his chest—a dark sound and a quick flash of white teeth. “By all means, then. I wouldn’t want the reputation of my entire species to suffer on my account.”
In a smooth shift of masculine muscle, Sevin joined her on the seat. She scooted aside to make room. Without quite realizing how it happened, she found herself crowded into the corner behind her. He was leaning over her, with her thighs draped over his, so that she very nearly sat across his lap. One of his hands had settled at the small of her back, and his free hand caught one of hers, pinning it to the tufted velvet saffron wall alongside her head.
“Tell me more of our reputation,” he bade her. “Tell me the rumors and I will say them true or false.”
“Um ...”
Distracted by his closeness, Alexa could hardly collect her thoughts well enough to respond. She could scarcely believe she was being held in his arms and that he was freely offering her information she’d often longed to be privy to! She pressed her free hand to his chest, an unconscious barrier to his scandalous suggestion that she broach matters no lady should with a man she hardly knew. When she didn’t find her voice, he found the words for her.
“Do they speak of what my brothers and I are?” he prompted. His mouth trailed kisses along her jaw as he spoke, sending a hot thrill over her skin. “Of how we will pass this sort of night? Of what the ancient blood in our veins will drive us to become? How much has Eva told you? Come now, speak frankly.”
Like every other citizen in Rome, she’d seen the urns, the statues, and the fresco paintings that this man’s eldest brother had unearthed in the Forum. The ones depicting the Satyr with their enormous, distended phalluses, in lustful pursuit of maenad females.
She gazed at him from under her lashes, her cheeks flushed. “Eva and I don’t discuss personal topics of that nature in any detail. But there has been gossip and speculation, even as far north as Venice.”
“Go on,” he murmured encouragingly.
“It is sometimes ... I mean, it is generally rumored that on a night like this, when a full moon shines ...” She hesitated. “That your kind is capable of giving a woman fifty fulfillments.”
His lips caressed the tender skin of her throat, just below her ear, and she felt his smile as he spoke. “True.”
“Oh? Well. Goodness. I suppose that would mean ...” The fingers of her free hand toyed with the neckline of her bodice, as she sat momentarily flustered. “In roughly nine and one half hours, that would amount to more than ... five per ...” Her voice faded and roses bloomed in her cheeks. “... hour.” She’d always had a head for figures, but displaying her mathematical skills to a suitor was no way to attract him.
Attract him? Is that what I’m trying to do?
“It’s my contention that the quality of such encounters is more important than the quantity,” he went on. His eyes studied her face as his fingers left her spine to unfasten the first few buttons at her neckline. She stayed him, her eyes searching his.
For a brief instant, Alexa saw behind the mirrors to the man. Saw a glimpse of the easy self-assurance that was such a part of him. One that silently whispered to a woman,
I can give you pleasure beyond your wildest imagination.
Her heart twisted with a wistful sort of longing. She had never known a man’s passion.
But she knew all too well what fornication was.
It was sounds and smells. It was Venice. It was the steady ticking of her clock as she breathlessly waited. The
hiss
of a lamp extinguished, blanketing her bedroom in complete darkness. It was her body being summarily flipped so that she lay on her belly. A fist at her nape to keep her still. A cruel masculine weight at her spine. The ripping of fabric. Harsh brandy-soaked breath. Her freshly laundered pillowcase muffling her screams.
Sevin’s mouth came again, brushing hers this time. His breath was clean and didn’t taste of brandy. His lips were warm, and moved on hers with a studied leisure that quickened her pulse. It was an arousing kiss, one that thrilled and made her yearn to beg him for more. To beg him to place those lips of his elsewhere upon her person, in places no woman of breeding should ever request that a man kiss.
His hand on her bodice turned, its knuckles moving slowly down her buttons and upward again. The movement teased the fabric at her breasts, quickening her breath. She twisted the uppermost button and tugged her bodice open slightly, giving him permission. He took it.
Cool air found her skin as his fingers pressed her bodice open. Her head lolled back and she shivered at the heat of his hand as it traced over the upper swell of her breast. A moan escaped her as he rubbed a thumb over its peak. That beautiful mouth of his found the hollow of her throat, her collarbone, her shoulder ...
With a soft sigh, she let her eyes flutter closed. She turned her face toward the window to give him better access. Outside, the rain had thickened, pounding them in sheets. Her breath and heartbeat seemed far too loud in her ears.
Then, suddenly everything stopped.
Sevin gazed down at the woman in his arms, feeling as if all the blood had drained out of him. A chill drove down his spine even as a punch of lust struck him square in the gut.
The turn of Alexa’s head had revealed a small design inked low on the side of her neck, at the bend where throat met shoulder. A tattoo. It was a perfect flower, yet not just any flower.
It was an
iris
.
Seeing the direction of his gaze, she self-consciously covered it with her hand and shrugged her collar higher again. “An indiscretion. One of many I regret during my recent trip to Venice,” she murmured in explanation.
Simultaneously, the carriage reined in. They’d arrived at her fine, stately row house. Their allotted fifteen minutes had flown past. He’d been so intent on his own pleasure that he’d learned nothing of her guilt or innocence during his exploration of her.
What the hells am I doing?
What he’d wanted to do since the moment he’d first seen her in the Roman Forum with Eva that day he’d visited Bastian’s headquarters. He was touching her. Kissing her. Glorying in the taste of her, in the soft give of her flesh against the hardness of his own.
He knew better than to tempt himself like this on a Calling night, especially with a human. When he’d been younger, with his family gone and no one to guide him, he hadn’t known what the repercussions of bedding human females might be. But at twenty-seven years, he had no such excuse.
Family was not something he took for granted. Having lost his parents when he was fifteen, whereupon all three of his brothers disappeared for years—Dane and Luc abducted by the Patrizzi family, and Bastian fallen prey to an addiction—he would do almost anything to keep them all together now. This female, innocent or not, was a threat to Luc’s recovery, and therefore she must be banished.
“I want you out of Rome,” he gritted, their faces still only inches apart. A distant rumble of ominous thunder punctuated his words. Outside, the storm was moving off, but the hedonistic tempest inside him still raged for this woman, strong as ever.