Prisoner of Temptation Page 3

  “I’m dead either way, so why should I wait?” she countered. “Oh yes, so you can have your way with me again.”

  Lucien suppressed a smirk. It seemed that not only her abilities had returned, but also her sharp tongue. It was hard to believe that this was the woman who only hours ago had been writhing in ecstasy beneath him.

  “We had an agreement,” he said simply. “One that I expect you to uphold.”

  In truth, it mattered not if she revealed the location of the Solomonarii lair, for he had no intention of going there. He was certain that they would be coming to him, and when they did, he would seek out Demetrius Borimirov and drain the blood from his body, avenging his father once and for all.

  “Will you reveal to me the location of the Solomonarii lair?” he asked, his voice thick. “Or must I once again employ my methods of persuasion?” Lean fingers reached for the knot that secured the sheet about her.

  Tatiana slapped his hand away. “Your sorcery won’t work this time.”

  Lucien laughed aloud. “You’re one to accuse me of sorcery, witch. After you invaded my home and nearly reduced it to cinders with your black magic, one would think you would be the last to point fingers.”

  One of her sleek brows went up. “Are you denying it?”

  His eyes combed her face. Despite her outer show of proficiency, he could tell that she was naive to the ways of the world—and of men. As her body had been virginal, so was her mind, untouched by the cruel reality of her existence.

  “What is your age?” he asked quietly.

  A looked of suspicion crossed her face. “I think it’s a bit late to be concerned about the legality of my age.”

  Lucien sighed and turned to stalk across the room. “The only thing I’m concerned about is surviving the night with your less-than-winning disposition.”

  “Then release me.”

  “Before I’ve had a chance to have my way with you again? I think not,” he said sarcastically as he threw open the doors of a tall armoire.

  Tatiana pursued him. “If you don’t want more blood spilled, you will do as I ask. I am the ward of the most powerful warlock in the Solomonarii clan, and if he—”

  “If he is a fool he will enter my domain and the only blood spilled will be from the wound I cut into his throat.” He stripped off his shirt.

  Tatiana gasped, pausing in her tracks. “Hold your tongue, gargoyle. Many have died for less.”

  Lucien tossed her a look over his shoulder. Her beautiful hazel eyes flashed angrily. Briefly he wondered at the extent of the devotion that lay behind them.

  “And many more will die before this war is done,” he said, impatience rising within him. “I suggest you choose wisely whom you pledge your allegiance to. Those you are so eager to defend are not what they seem.”

  “And what would you know about the Solomonarii? For centuries your kind has done nothing but hunt and kill us. We’ve become only what is necessary to protect ourselves from savages like you.”

  Lucien spun toward her angrily. “Savages?” he repeated as he advanced, forcing her to retreat. “Three hundred years ago it was your beloved Demetrius who slaughtered thousands of innocent people. If anyone should be labeled a savage, it is him and all those who remain loyal to him.”

  Another few steps and he’d backed her against a wall. “But you would know nothing of that. You speak only of what has been carved into your mind during your restricted upbringing. You do not even know who you are…or who you were.”

  Lucien watched confusion creep over her face and he immediately regretted speaking as he had. He did not need or want the responsibility of revealing the truth to her.

  Tatiana’s brows drew together in a frown. “What are you talking about? Demetrius told me everything I need to know about the history of my people.”

  “Is that so? And just what did he tell you about your parents?”

  “They died defending our people in battle,” she stated confidently.

  Lucien snorted. “And what were their names? How old were they? What positions did they hold in the Solomonarii army?”

  Her beautiful mouth opened, but her words faltered and uncertainty flickered in her eyes. Lucien knew immediately that she had no answers.

  She looked away. “None of that matters. Demetrius was the one who took me under his wing. He raised me. He’s my father.”

  Lucien’s attention fastened on her face. She really was naive to the world, to the great wrong that had been done her. An undeterminable feeling began to churn within his stomach, and he felt compelled to continue what he’d started.

  He extended a hand and lifted her chin so that her eyes met his. “Demetrius was also the one who sent you to my lair. What father would put his daughter in harm’s way?”

  She yanked away. “I wasn’t forced to be here. I came willingly to rescue my people.”

  “The Solomonarii are not your people,” he told her firmly. “You are a witch, but of another clan. The Ananovian clan.”

  The expression on her face mutated into stark disbelief. It was clear that the Ananovian name was no stranger to her, but he could only imagine what Demetrius had told her of them. “You’re insane!” she spat and pushed past him.

  Lucien swung an arm around her slender waist, stalling her. “Have you never wondered why your abilities are far greater than any among your clan?”

  She proceeded to struggle. “I don’t want to hear any more of your madness.”

  Before he could say anything more, Tatiana was muttering a string of ancient Romanian words. Immediately the tall armoire slid across the room toward them. He released her and had just enough time to move and avoid injury. The armoire smashed into the wall. Lucien looked slowly from the damage to the little witch who had caused it. He hadn’t expected her to greet his announcement with acceptance, but nor had he expected a full-fledged assault.

  Tatiana stood a few feet away from him, her lips already muttering the words of another black spell. The floor beneath her began to smoke, and a charred pentagram began to appear around her. Lucien’s scowl darkened. He’d been there before and cared not to revisit it a second time.

  He charged forward. “I think not.”

  Tatiana started to retreat, but he snatched her up and tossed her over his shoulder. He marched her over to the bed and dropped her onto it. As she struggled, she continued her chanting and a small flame began to burn through the bedding.

  Lucien pinned her hands above her head with a steel grip. He pulled one corner of the sheet that was wound about her and stuffed it into her mouth, hampering her from completing the incantation. Grabbing a pillow with his free hand, he then proceeded to beat at the fire until it faded, leaving a seared hole in the bedding.

  Lucien glared down at her with a mingling of disbelief, impatience and desire. She was certainly a handful—a very beautiful and soft handful. Her mass of long and curly black tresses lay splayed about her head and shoulders, and her eyes, although flashing defiantly, reflected an innocence that tugged at his conscience.

  “Cease your fighting. You will hear me out,” he told her, an unexpected gentleness slipping into his voice. “I will free your mouth, but only if you promise to refrain from your sorcery.”

  Tatiana’s muffled retort was incomprehensible, but he didn’t need a bard’s imagination to guess at the string of obscenities that would have poured from her full lips.

  “Do you promise?” he asked again, and this time he was hard-pressed to contain his smile.

  She watched him for a moment, her ample chest heaving as she fought for breath. Finally she nodded.

  Lucien slipped the gag from her mouth and waited. When she remained silent he spoke. “The Ananovian clan is a first-level community of witches and warlocks—the highest level. They are healers, but will fight to defend anything pure and good if the need arises. Within their clan, a child’s destiny is chosen at conception. Those who are marked with the crescent moon at birth are destined to become protect
ors.”

  He paused, providing her time to digest all that he had said. She simply glared up at him, her brows still creased in a frown.

  “Gifted with unimaginable abilities, these children have been highly sought after by the Solomonarii,” Lucien continued. “For centuries Demetrius has kidnapped them, raising them as his own with the intent of using them to lead his people into battle.”

  “If all that you say is true,” Tatiana said with derision, “then how is it that I am the only one among my clan with these abilities? Where are the many children that he stole from their homes?”

  Lucien’s attention skipped over her face as he once again tried to guess her age. “They have all been murdered,” he told her solemnly. “Each Ananovian witch is killed before her twenty-fifth birthday, as it is then that she realizes the true extent of her abilities. It is also then that she becomes a liability, one that Demetrius cannot afford.”

  Lucien waited for her response. He could tell that she didn’t believe a word he’d said. Then again, if he was in her position, he wouldn’t have believed him either.

  Tatiana shook her head. “You lying bastard. I suppose you’re all out of tricks. Well, trying to turn me against my own people isn’t going to work.”

  Strangely, Lucien felt compelled to convince her—to protect her. He wanted to believe that the lingering debt he owed the Ananovian witches for saving his life and that of his mother was the reason for these emotions.

  His fingers moved along the soft curve of her shoulder as he brushed her hair aside to reveal the crescent birthmark. “Then how do you explain this?”

  “It’s nothing but a birthmark. Although I must commend you on your clever storytelling. Had I been missing half my brain I might’ve believed you.”

  Despite the thoughts that plagued him, Lucien smiled. “Had you been missing half your brain, this evening would have progressed more in my favor.”

  His attention drifted to the grandfather clock that stood in a corner. It was nearing sunset and his transformation. He had a busy night ahead, for there was a battle brewing. But there was still time to satiate the lust that burned within his groin. If he didn’t, he was certain he would be useless to his clan.

  When he returned his attention to Tatiana, he knew that his eyes sparked with a fiery red. She lay there watching him, her breaths coming in quick gasps. She knew what was ahead. Lucien pulled at the knot that secured the sheet around her and it slipped loose, falling away. Her full breasts greeted him. Had he not been so starved he would have gazed upon them a moment longer, but instead, his mouth fell over her.

  Tatiana gasped and began to squirm. “When Demetrius comes for me…he’s going…he’s going to kill you,” she managed between moans.

  Lucien knew the exact moment when the fight left her body. She grew soft and pliant beneath him. Slowly he released his hold on her wrists and, not surprisingly, he soon felt her hands upon him, caressing him as he continued to feast upon her breasts.

  “He’s going to…cut out…your heart…and feed it to you,” she said with greater difficulty.

  Lucien wasn’t moved by her taunting, but he certainly didn’t want to hear any more of it. His mouth moved to her lips, silencing her. His hands slid over her soft and warm body until his fingers found the moist place between her thighs.

  He drew back to look at her as he slid one finger up and down. Already she was wet and hot, writhing for penetration. He’d never met a woman who’d responded so instantly to his touch.

  With a feral growl, Lucien rolled her onto her stomach. He took a moment to free his hardened phallus and then, lifting her hips off the bed, he pressed into her. The coupling was a savage mating driven by lust. Tatiana gripped the bedding and with each forceful thrust, she cried out, pushing him closer to the edge.

  She felt so tight and hot, her body clinging to his member as if for dear life. A few more thrusts and Lucien found himself toppling headfirst over a cliff of intense ecstasy. He pressed into her one last time, emptying himself inside her as together their bodies shook with one fierce climax.

  Chapter 4

  Lucien’s scowl darkened as he perused the last words of the letter. His attention snapped to the man kneeling before him. The Solomonarii messenger had been discovered as he’d attempted to infiltrate the property, his intent to deliver the letter and escape before he was noticed. Unfortunately for him he’d been spotted by Lucien’s warriors who had been standing guard. His face was covered in bruises, and his clothing had all but been torn from his back.

  “Who sent you here?” Lucien asked furiously, his horned tail whipping back and forth.

  The messenger showed no fear for his present predicament. He smiled. “My lord Demetrius Borimirov. He would’ve come himself, but he does not appreciate the stench of beasts.”

  One of the two gargoyle warriors present moved to strike the man again, but Lucien held up a hand, stalling him. He scanned the letter a second time. It was an ultimatum: if Lucien didn’t bring Tatiana to a distant rural village by sunset the following day, the people there would be slaughtered. How typical of Demetrius to use the innocent as leverage for what he wanted.

  Lucien crushed the letter within his fist and returned his attention to the Solomonarii messenger. “I have a message for you to deliver to your lord Demetrius,” he stated as he marched toward the man. “Tell him to enjoy these days, for they are his last.”

  Tatiana pulled the velvet cloak closer around her. She was freezing. Beneath her the huge shire gelding shuffled restlessly. She gripped the reins as she tried to steady herself. She’d never ridden a horse before, and traipsing up a mountainside in the snow was hardly the time to learn.

  The twelve gargoyles accompanying her, all presently in human form, had come to a stop as Lucien had gone ahead to scope out the area. He hadn’t been too keen on traveling so far from his lair to meet with Demetrius and had deemed it a trap. Of course, Tatiana had been elated. The farther she was from the gargoyle lair, the better. She couldn’t wait to return home. There had never been a doubt in her mind that Demetrius would come to her rescue.

  The sound of hooves echoed from the trees ahead and a moment later Lucien appeared. He dismounted and marched toward them.

  “The path is clear. We proceed north,” he said as he handed the reins to one of his men who’d been waiting on foot.

  Lucien then moved toward her and slipped the reins from her hands. He mounted behind her and urged the horse into motion. Immediately the warmth of his huge body enveloped her, chasing the prickling cold from her limbs. Her body responded instantly, ceasing its quivering. There was just something about being next to him that gave her a sense of security. It was hard for her to fathom why she would feel this way with her enemy, especially the very creature she’d been groomed to fear.

  Lucien led the way on the narrow path through the trees, guiding the horse with an expert hand.

  “I am surprised you did not try to escape during my absence.” His words, although spoken softly, vibrated within her chest.

  “Why should I try to escape when you’re taking me to freedom?” she asked confidently.

  Lucien was silent for a moment, and when he spoke again his tone was somber. “There is still time for you to reconsider all that I have told you. Demetrius is not what he seems.”

  Tatiana offered no answer. She’d said all she needed to on that matter. She couldn’t understand why he was so persistent, even now when he was taking her to Demetrius. Why should Lucien care what happened to her? He’d already used her body in the most unspeakable of ways, so what more did he want from her?

  They continued up the path until the trees fell away and smoke became visible over a low rise. Their pace quickened, and it wasn’t long before a small gathering of old brick houses came into view.

  As they neared, children raced up to greet them and several people paused to stare with big smiles on their faces. Tatiana guessed that this wasn’t the first time the gargoyles had visite
d this region. It was an odd location for feuding parties to meet, and she wondered why Demetrius had chosen the spot.

  Lucien dismounted, then helped Tatiana to her feet. He placed an arm around her waist and guided her forward as he moved to meet an old man bundled in layers of clothing.

  “Nicolae,” Lucien greeted him, extending a hand. “How have you fared since our last meeting?”

  The man smiled, displaying a row of unkempt teeth. “Good, very good.” He took Lucien’s hand within his own wrinkled ones. “And what brings you to our village again?”

  “We are only passing through. We’ve brought many supplies for your people.” He motioned to the large sacks that the other gargoyles were unloading from their horses.

  Nicolae’s smile brightened. “Many thanks,” he said gratefully, then with a nod moved to join the women and children who were already peeking into the sacks.

  Tatiana remained silent throughout the exchange, her mind working. She would never have expected the gargoyles to be welcomed with open arms anywhere, most especially not among a small and virtually undefended village of people.

  Lucien turned to her. He took hold of her chin, forcing her to meet his eyes. “You will be well-behaved during your time here. These people need not know who or what you are. Is that understood?”

  His silver-blue eyes flashed at her, and she knew that it was a request not to be taken lightly. She nodded.

  “Good,” Lucien said.

  He looked to the sky, which was partially streaked with the colors of the evening. There remained at least another hour before sunset. Tatiana wondered what he intended to do to pass the time. Embarrassingly, she found herself hoping that he would make love to her again, at least one more time before she returned to her supervised life within the Solomonarii lair. She understood that developing her abilities was most important, and she was eager to return to it all, but the thought of leaving Lucien filled her with an odd sense of reluctance.

  Unfortunately for her, Lucien had other things in mind. He passed her on to the gargoyle she’d come to recognize as his second in command.