Though his cheeks reddened, he kept his gaze on her, expression curious and…she wasn’t sure. The emotion bothered her, whatever it was.
He drew his wings closer. “At eighteen, I let a council of Sent Ones select a wife for me. A mother for McCadden.”
He’d married? Jealousy sparked, and she bit her cheek. “Go on.”
“I didn’t know it at the time, but Samantha esteemed another. Eventually, she divorced me to wed him. Rebecca left me for reasons unknown.” A muscle jumped beneath his eye. “Perhaps she merely wished to escape my hideous face.”
Ouch. Okay. Viola had thrown the insult to hurt him. Because yes, he had hurt her. Retaliation was supposed to make her feel better, not worse.
She forged ahead, the prize worth the effort. “I happen to like your face.” Truth. “And I have the best taste in the history of taste. Ask anyone.”
He pursed his lips, far from mollified. “I’m the only person available to admire you. Of course you like my face right now.”
As she peered over at her captor…her partner…the male she desired, with his harsh features, rough demeanor, and dignity of a merciless king, Viola came to a startling decision. She wanted more than her own enjoyment—she wanted his. And not only to prove a point.
“Why are you peering at me like that?” he demanded, growing as stiff as a board.
“Like what?” Strolling toward him, she rasped, “Like I want to show you how handsome you are?”
Chapter Eight
Brochan watched, enthralled, as his goddess crossed the distance between them, a vision in her silvery gown. Her eyes were hooded, her red lips parted. Long, blond hair swayed with her every movement. Each step separated the slits in her damp skirt, revealing more of her perfect legs.
With the foliage and flowers behind her, her whiskey eyes glittering, she might as well have stepped from a dream.
He groused, “I’m not going to harm you, Viola. You don’t have to pretend to desire me.”
“I thought we covered this already.” She stopped in front of him. The rain had rendered the fabric of her dress transparent. “I’m not pretending.”
Muscles clenched on bone, his body aching. Pure temptation…
Look away! “You didn’t want me before this.” Pouting and complaining rather than stating a simple fact? Very well. “When we kissed, you got lost in your head.” Exactly as Samantha and Rebecca used to do when he touched them.
“Why wouldn’t I get lost in my head? I was making out with the guy determined to kill me. I had qualms.”
Ohhh. Air deflated from his lungs, shock tossing him into a tailspin. And he’d already been spinning, thunderstruck by the childhood memories she’d shared. The suffering she’d endured. The pain he’d detected had nearly rent him in two, a need to defend her rising. To protect and comfort.
Defend, protect and comfort McCadden’s would-be killer? No. But give her an hour of devotion each day? That he could—should—do. There was no better method to keep her docile.
“Brochan?”
What would she request now? “Yes, Viola?”
“My demonstration of your handsomeness requires repositioning for both of us. Sit.” Cupping his shoulders, she urged him to the ground.
He offered no resistance as she eased upon his lap. A slight weight, and yet he felt her in every cell of his body. His heart raced. “What do you hope to accomplish with this, goddess?”
“Many things.”
“List the top five.” His hands sought her of their own accord, one landing on each side of her waist. The sight of his claws resting against her delicate form struck him as obscene. Heat blistered his cheeks as he pried his fingers free, one by one.
“Only the top five? How you limit me.” Just before he eliminated contact completely, she clasped his wrists, holding him in place, and offered her softest smile. “Perhaps there is a reason that supersedes all others. Perhaps I seek…satisfaction.”
His entire body jerked. “And you think you can find satisfaction with me?”
“I do.”
How much he yearned to believe her. Experience had taught him better.
“Stop thinking. This is supposed to be fun, not torture.” She leaned into him and gently pressed her lips to his. “Relax a little.”
Fun? Had he ever had fun? In the skies, he’d gone from training to be a warrior, to parenting his younger brother to fighting in the Sent One army, to falling, to morphing into a monster brimming with hatred and revenge.
Revenge. Yes. He should oversee his. And yet…any thoughts of his brother faded. Brochan grasped for them, desperate to maintain some sort of defense against this woman’s powerful allure.
“Can you guess what comes next?” She brushed the tip of her nose against his.
He gave a clipped shake of his head. “Tell me what to do.”
Holding his gaze, Viola asked, “What did you imagine doing to me in the shower?”
Everything.
A little chuckle left her, as if she’d read his mind. “I have another question for you, which will be followed by a request. What you do afterward is up to you. Are you ready? Where did—do—you want to touch me first? Wherever it is, you have my permission to do so…”