Burning Dawn (Angels of the Dark #3)(89)
Author: Gena Showalter

If you want a man’s attention, her mother once said, find out what he loves most…and take it away. Guaranteed, he’ll dog your every step from that moment on.

Ardeo wanted Malta. It would be cruel to pretend the woman had somehow regenerated and was now in their clutches, but he’d written the rules of this war when he stabbed Thane, and those rules were quite simple: anything goes.

One mention of Malta’s name, and he would come running…straight into a trap.

“—even listening?” Bellorie asked, and she blinked into focus. “She’s got it bad, ya’ll. Love has done gone and fried her brain.”

It had. It really had. “What’d I miss?”

“The best story ever about how I’m going to march into the realm of the Fae and decapitate everyone I come across! Chanel would have wanted her entire race slaughtered for kicking her out. I just know it.”

Savy shook her head and made a cutting motion over her throat.

“Why did they kick her out, anyway?” Elin asked.

Savy groaned.

“For being too wonderful,” Bellorie said, ignoring her. “But back to my war plans. I’ll wear black spandex, of course, like a true ninja, and—”

Octavia waved her fists in the air and shouted, “Why me?”

Elin covered a giggle with the back of her hand, then sat back and listened to Bellorie wax on and on about the clothes she would wear, the weapons she would use, and the history books that would need to be written about her exploits.

Never would Elin have guessed that she’d find herself in such a situation. Sorrowful but comforting. Sad but sweet. This wasn’t the life she’d once envisioned for herself, but dang if it wasn’t better.

CHAPTER THIRTY

THANE EXITED THE BATHROOM with a towel wrapped around his waist. He and the boys had decided on a plan of action, to be carried out later today. Find Ardeo. Track him. Follow him to the prince. Perhaps the two would set up a meeting so the prince could reward Ardeo for stabbing Thane. If not, Ardeo would find a way to reach the prince. The Phoenix king believed the fallen angel could bring Malta back to life; he wouldn’t rest until he was proved wrong.

After that, the Army of Disgrace would go in with the Elite Seven, weapons blazing, and capture the prince. Interrogate the prince. Find the other princes responsible for Germanus’s death.

Then they would execute the final part of their plan. Kill. Them. All.

The only thing in question was what to do with Elin. Where would she be safest?

Thane’s blood heated when he spotted her lounging in the center of the bed.

She was already naked.

She grinned when his gaze met hers. A truly wicked grin, like none she’d ever given him. He wasn’t sure what to think.

“What are you waiting for, gorgeous?” she asked throatily, tracing a fingertip between her br**sts. “I’m ready for you. I want to be chained and taken so hard I’ll feel you for weeks.”

Chained?

He frowned. Something was wrong with her.

The alcohol must be at work. Her behavior always underwent a shift when she drank.

He strode to the edge of the bed. She leaned up and tried to tug away the towel, but he held firm to the material and sat beside her.

“Kulta,” he said gently.

“Kulta?” There was a flash of…something…in her eyes, but it was so quickly masked he couldn’t identify it. “Don’t you want me?” she asked with a pout. “Because I want you, and I don’t want to wait.”

“I do want you.” Desire for her always simmered underneath his skin. Right now, concern proved stronger. “What’s the matter? Did someone say something to hurt you?”

“What would you do if someone did hurt me?” she asked silkily.

“Avenge you.” Brutally.

She blinked with surprise. “Why?”

“Because I love you.” You know this.

Know what? she asked, the words wafting through his mind.

His confusion intensified. That I love you.

Of course I do, but I will never tire of hearing the words.

Even as her voice filled his head, her eyes narrowed. “Prove it. Prove you love me,” she said, planting a series of kisses across his throat.

The stroke of her tongue was hotter than usual. Her lips were firmer than usual, and her scent was all wrong. She didn’t smell like alcohol as she had earlier when he’d checked on her; but even more tellingly, her scent was missing the cherries.

And…the essentia had faded from her skin completely, he realized.

Suspicions danced through him.

This wasn’t Elin. This couldn’t be Elin.

He pinched her chin and held her face steady for his concentrated scrutiny. Smoked-glass eyes without any hint of warmth. They were wells of cold, hard determination, and the pupils were not dilated. Her delicate cheeks lacked the warm flush of arousal. Another sign of cold, hard determination.

The truth settled, and rage sparked.

This was Kendra.

Somehow, she’d removed her slave bands. Somehow, she’d found him. And now, she was trying to trick him into bedding her, so that she could enslave him all over again. That was how she’d gotten him last time. Eight times she’d come to him as a different woman, and eight times he’d spilled inside her, binding his soul tighter and tighter to hers.

Every fiber of his being longed to lash out, to hurt her in some way. But this time, he didn’t react according to emotion. He was a different man, and he wouldn’t make the same mistakes.

He breathed deeply, in and out, releasing the rage and concentrating on the regret he’d experienced every time he’d thought of his past.

What kind of life had Kendra led? What had brought her to this moment?

If he hurt her today, she would only want to hurt him another day, and then he would want to hurt her, and so on and so forth, and it would become an endless cycle of pain and remorse.

It was time to break the cycle.

Not knowing what else to do, he stood and stalked to the closet.

“What are you doing?” she demanded, unable to hide her irritation.

“What do you think?” He turned and held up four links of chains. “You wanted to be chained, did you not?”

At last, arousal came. He smelled it on her, and that saddened him. “Yes.”

“Lie back,” he commanded.

Instantly she obeyed, placing her arms over her head and spreading her legs. Goose bumps broke out over her skin as he clamped the metal on her wrists and ankles. A master at bondage, he had no problem anchoring the shackles to a bed not made for that type of activity.