Soul Enslaved (Sons of Wrath Book 3) (28 page)

Had to maintain control.

Unfortunately, black magic rarely came with loopholes—that was what made it the darkest magic in creation. A powerful gaszla could easily destroy a male, and not even her death could break the curse.

Obviously, though, Jessica hadn’t factored in whatever it was about Sabelle that defied the rules of the curse. Gavin needed to crack that code before she did. However Jessica managed to infiltrate his dreams from her prison cell was a mystery, which meant he had to be vigilant. Keep the two separate, somehow. Keep Jessica away from Sabelle. Which meant Gavin needed to keep Sabelle out of his dreams. A task easier said than done, particularly after the erotic little show she’d put on.

That tight body caught beneath him, writhing in pleasure, was all that stood between sanity and beating his head against a cushion-padded wall in a small white room, somewhere in the heart of Obsidius. He sure as hell didn’t want to be sent back to there and risk getting friendly with the torture-glutton Enforcer holding a blade over his cock.

One observation he’d picked up on in the last couple of days—Sabelle’s natural state put her on the defensive, as if she stayed on guard for criticism, or some attack. That happened to be when his beast remained somewhat acquiescent around her. Like she gave off some kind of safeguard vibe.

Laughter burst from his chest at the same time that pain stabbed him in the groin. Gavin bit down on his bicep alongside his head, where he arms lay still tethered to the bed. Fuck! He flexed his ass and lifted up from the mattress as the wake of tingles spread to his limbs.

The curse might be a problem after all. A small part of him still felt like himself, but the more he thought of Sabelle, the more ferocious the beast became.

Sabelle. Visuals of her fingers buried inside of her teased his thoughts. He licked his lips, imagining his tongue exploring her beautiful folds. Sweat beaded across his skin as the ache in his groin intensified, and he rolled his hips and ground his ass in the mattress.

Damn, he needed release or he’d risk fucking her in his dreams, where Jessica could make it a frightening threesome.

Against the binds, Gavin flipped onto his stomach and drove his cock into the mattress, the force tearing a hole in the fabric.

Fuck.

Not good enough, but it’d have to do. With slow, steady thrusts, he imagined Sabelle beneath him, that swollen, wet sex he’d stared at earlier welcoming his wrath. Hands balled into fists, chained to the bedposts, he drove hard and fast, the fantasy playing out in his head like a porn reel.

Sweat slid down her back as Gavin captured her from behind. Crossing his arm over her breasts, he gripped one rounded globe in his palm and ground his dick against her. Long red tresses spilled over his fingers as he held tight to her hair.

“I want you … I want you to …” Panting breaths interrupted her words.

Without penetrating, his crown nudged her ass and she jerked forward. “You want me to what?”

“I want you to … do me.”

“Not good enough.” He tightened the grip of her hair and nipped her with a fang, threatening to bite down on her throat. “Try again.”

“Fuck me! Is that … what you want me … to say?”

He kissed her nape, down to her shoulders. “Fuck what?”

“Please, Gavin.” Her knees seemed to buckle against him, but he held her upright. “I need it. I need you to fill me.”

A flick of her nipple released a quiet moan, and Gavin kissed her again. “Fuck. What?”

“My p-pussy.”

He slid his hand down to the juncture between her thighs and smiled when she lurched, gasping as he teased her slick clit. “Whose pussy is this?”

“Yours,” she whispered.

“Again. Louder.”

“It’s yours! This pussy is yours.”

Gavin pressed his face into the pillows, muffling the roar that ripped through his chest as his body shuddered with release.

Though, not the release he craved. The release that would keep him from acting out the final scene in that dark fantasy.

CHAPTER 10

Possession beat through Gavin, as Sabelle approached the bed, wearing a Detroit jersey nightshirt. Her mussed hair fell around her shoulders, and as she leaned forward, her rounded breasts made for deep, inviting cleavage. He wanted to pull her onto the bed and tangle her in the sheets, kiss her throat, those beautiful breasts—everywhere.

The chain clicked loose, and Gavin rubbed his wrists.

He’d slept like a baby. No thrashing in his sleep. No pain rapping at his groin all night. Because of her. That alone made her the most prized female on the planet. And he wanted her.

Wanted
her
.

No Savidon. No tricks. Gavin simply wanted her, with her mussed hair, plain nightshirt and half-lidded eyes. The desire to pull her into his body, seize those lips, and feel the silky warmth of her tongue against his, had his fingers flexing at his sides.

Possessive. Maddening.

He eyed her throat and, for a brief moment, stared at the artery, pulsing, calling to him. If he bit into her, she’d be claimed, because no doubt, he’d release himself inside her—an act that demons only partook in when making a female their tazschla.

“Looks like it held,” she said, half yawning and scratching the back of her head.

Boundaries
, he reminded himself.
Don’t do anything stupid
. “Thank you. For last night. I slept quite well.” A flash caught his eye, as she finished stretching and her hand fell to her side. “What is that?” he asked, tracking the charm around her wrist.

She held up her arm, setting the gold links spinning. A charm dangled from the chain, resembling a shield, of some sort,
Aegis
inscribed into the metal. “Griffin gave it to me when I turned eighteen. I try not to wear it to bed, or when I’m painting. Means a lot to me, but I took it off yesterday in the art nook. Forgot all about it.”

Took it off?
Must’ve been the same chain he’d noticed hanging from the easel.

A beat of silence followed, and her brows came together. “Uh. What … happened to the bed?”

Gavin glanced back, choking back the urge to laugh as the gaping hole in the mattress silently confessed his crime.
I fucked your mattress, pretending it was you.

The contemplation on her face morphed into what he presumed to be understanding, and she seemed suddenly unable to look at him. “I’m … going to make some coffee. Would you like some coffee?”

“That’d be great.”

***

Sabelle studied Gavin a moment, where he sat before the coffee table, sifting through papers he’d brought from his office at
Sanctuary
. Stacks of books about
gods knew what
sat beside him as he read. She almost hated to interrupt his concentration, but a thought had nagged at her most of the day.

“Can I borrow your car?” she asked.

He glanced up. “Certainly. Where are we going?”

“
We
aren’t going anywhere. I have to pick the kids from Denya’s and … something else. From my mom’s.”

“I’m going with you.”

“Gavin—”

“We agreed.” He cocked a brow at her. “No separating. The only way I can protect you is if I know where to find you at all times.”

Her tongue scraped against the back of her teeth to keep from laughing. “Stop with the intimidating eyebrow thing.”

“I wasn’t aware my eyebrows intimidated.” He frowned,
deepening
the intimidating eyebrow thing.

“Well, they do.”

“Interesting.” He sat back on the couch. “I believe you’ve single-handedly pinpointed the source of my bad reputation amongst the thugs.”

“Yeah.” She snickered. “Most of the world throws gang signs. You throw a left hook of your brow and it’s over.”

“Where does your mother live?” Of course he hadn’t forgotten the topic at hand.

“She lives on McNichols. Over by VanDyke.” Sabelle stepped past him. “There, now you know.”

Gavin’s hand grabbed her arm. “No. I’m going with you.”

Sabelle’s shoulders slouched. “I grew up there. I’ll be fine.”

“When’s the last time you visited your mom? That place is overrun with Fallen angels.”

Her stomach flipped, but she tried to mask her surprise at his words. “You know what? I’m not going to sit and argue.” She nabbed the keys on her way through the kitchen. “I wish you had a less flashy car. Really. This is, like, begging for trouble in that neighborhood.”

“I’ll summon the ghouls.”

“Ghouls aren’t going to protect against the Fallen, Gavin.”

“True. But the Fallen aren’t all that interested in my car itself, so much as what’s
in
it.”

***

Sabelle pulled into a shitty
Citgo
with cracked pavement and pumps that looked like they hadn’t seen an actual gas tank in decades, but didn’t get out.

Gavin looked around in her periphery. “What’s up?”

“Gavin … I don’t know what you’re expecting when we get there, so I’ll just spare you the curiosity. The house is a shithole, and my mom’s probably so high or drunk, or both, she won’t even know we’re there.”

“I had a good idea the moment you said McNichols.”

“Well, if she tries to hit on you—” Sabelle expelled a sharp breath. “Just ignore her.”

“You’re welcome to tell her I’m your boyfriend.”

Sabelle put the vehicle in drive. “If I thought that’d make a difference, I would.”

“So this is some Jerry Springer shit you’re preparing me for, then.” His cheeks dimpled with a smile.
Adorable
.

“I think my situation would be too screwed up, even for Jerry Springer.”

***

The familiarity of her surrounding sat in Sabelle’s gut like a ton of bricks, as they rounded the corner to the Thornridge Trailer Park.

“Wow. Check out the daisy dukes on that one. Think she’s sixty? Seventy?” Gavin pointed out the window, as they passed a woman with graying hair, sporting a bandeau top and short shorts.

Sabelle chuckled. “That’s my mom.”

“Seriously?”

“No.”

“Thank gods for that.” He pretended to wipe a brow. “Thought I’d have to soften the blow by saying something like
I see where you get your good looks
.”

Mouth gaping, Sabelle punched him in the arm and giggled. “Remind me never to trust your judgment when it comes to beauty.”

Her smile faded as she pulled the vehicle into a shack of a home.

The small patch of grass that used to be the yard she played in looked like it hadn’t been mowed in months. Gas cans, littered along the front of the house, only enhanced the milk crates serving as the stairs to the broken concrete that was once the porch. Screens had holes, and the front door screen had been removed and left leaning up against the home in disrepair. Mattresses piled on the front yard amid milk cartons and beer cans had molded, as well as carried spots that could’ve been dried blood.

As they exited the car, a dog barked, and Sabelle swung around to see a Bullmastiff testing the strength of the short skinny chain tethering him to a tree. “It’s frickin’ ninety degrees, and that thing doesn’t even have water.”

“I got it.” Gavin grabbed an iron pot set against the porch and filled it with water from a hose. As he approached the wild dog, its bark warned a vicious attack, the chain straining with the dog’s yearning to tear Gavin apart. Without breaking stride, Gavin walked right up to the dog, and as if it suddenly realized a power greater than itself had moved into its space, the dog’s ears went flat against its head and it backed up a step, teeth bared. As the water was set down, the dog broke from its angry trance, tail springing into a frantic wag as it gratefully slurped the water, and Gavin pet it before returning to Sabelle’s side.

“You definitely seem to have a way with animals.”

“I live with six brothers. It comes naturally.”

Sabelle chuckled then took a deep breath. “Well, here goes nothing.” She pushed through the rickety front door, and the scent of mold and rotted garbage stung her nose. “Oh, Jesus, I’m going to puke.” She glanced back at Gavin. “It’s not too late to wait in the car.”

“I’m glutton for punishment.”

Covering her face, Sabelle stepped over beer cans and cheap wine bottles. Scraps of paper had been worked into the carpeting and in some cases looked like a white paste where it’d dried. Sabelle’s heart kicked up, and she bit the inside of her lip as her gaze landed on a fallen hand draped over the arm of a recliner that faced away from them.

Her mother.
Laura.

Was she dead? Odd how the thought of that didn’t necessarily trouble her.

Sabelle tiptoed across the filth until she reached the living room. To the left, a young male, who appeared to be about Sabelle’s age, lay slumped on the couch in a dirty wife-beater and jeans zipped down to reveal the tip of his dick.

Disgusting.

She rounded the recliner. The woman’s chest rose and fell, so her mother still lived, even if unconscious. Tracks marred her arms, and a needle lay beside the chair. Her spaghetti strap had slipped off her shoulder, leaving her breast exposed.

Sabelle’s attention shifted between her mother and the kid on the couch. She curled her lip and slid the strap up onto her shoulder. Mostly for Gavin’s sake.

The old woman started awake and focused a moment on Sabelle’s face, as if she still dreamed. For a fleeting second, she looked innocent, until her face twisted to a frown. “What do you want?”

“Something that belongs to me … and Denya.”

Her lids remained heavy, as she sneered. “Ain’t nothin’ in this house belongs to you. Git out.”

“I want the letter. Where is it?”

Her eyes narrowed. “Letter? What letter?”

“Don’t act stupid. You know exactly what letter.”

The woman scratched her jaw, lids heavy, head lolling as though still high from whatever shit she’d shot up. “I ain’t got no letter.”

“I left it. In my room.” Sabelle stepped around the recliner toward the bedrooms.