Burning Dawn. Gena Showalter

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      CHAPTER FIVE

      THANE TUGGED ON his robe, his motions steady despite the aggravation attempting to choke him. The Harpy was asleep and unaware of his mood, thank the Most High. She would have panicked—or asked for round two. He wasn’t in the mood to deal with either.

      What was her name?

      Not that he cared. It wasn’t as if he would ever speak to her again.

      He’d used her. She’d used him. Pleasure was had. The problem was, he wasn’t satisfied.

      Have you ever been?

      He worked his jaw. Yes, of course. At least a little. For years, he’d brought his women here, to the bedroom across from his. It was where he’d kept Kendra.

      She was the first, the only, woman ever to move in for longer than a few hours, and he’d allowed it only because she’d experienced no remorse after his depraved desires had been slaked. No matter how badly he’d frightened...and marred...her. No matter what horrible things he’d asked her to do to him.

      A perfect union, at least on the surface. And yet, they had never actually fit, or balanced each other.

      Same with the Harpy. While she possessed a measure of dark yearning, proved every time she’d run the tip of a blade over his skin, as demanded, and smiled as his blood welled, she hadn’t satiated him. Not when he’d chained her, and she had struggled, her wrists and ankles chafing, her eyes tearing up—not just with fear, but with uncertain anticipation. Not when he’d shown her an array of weapons and told her slowly and quietly what he was going to do with them, and the tears had streamed down her cheeks in earnest. Not even when he’d put his words into action, and she had begged for mercy...and for more.

      Her whimpers hadn’t been sweet, sweet music, as he’d expected. Her fear hadn’t fanned the flames of his passion, and her pain hadn’t soothed the savage beast inside.

      She hadn’t given him anything he’d needed.

      What did he need?

      He thought he’d known.

      He could take her again, harder, harsher, and finally, hopefully, exhaust himself, but he refused to bed the same woman twice. Never again would he risk enslavement.

      Oh, he knew there were only a handful of females like Kendra, capable of enchaining through sex, and none that were not Phoenix. But what if the Harpy had Phoenix blood in her ancestry? How was a man to know?

      Besides, why take the Harpy a second time when his body craved another woman?

      The...don’t say it...ignore the desire, and it will go away...human.

      He had to bite back an aggravated snarl. He couldn’t ignore—and he couldn’t forget. Somehow, she had branded her image in his mind. Her name, he was suddenly desperate to know. He wished he’d confronted her, today, yesterday, every day, and drank in every word about her.

      What was it about this female?

      At the camp, she had looked at him with wild panic and even fear, and he’d hated every moment. He should have enjoyed that, as he did with other women, but no. He hadn’t. Therefore, he shouldn’t desire her. But earlier in the club he’d taken one look at her and hungered as if he had never eaten.

      She was prettier than he remembered, and he’d somehow scented her from across the room. He’d had to fight the compulsion to close the distance between them, sweep her into his arms and carry her away to ravage her.

      She had been dressed provocatively, yes, but that shouldn’t have had any bearing on the situation. Since the opening of the club, his female employees had worn that barely-there uniform. It was like white noise to him—there, but hardly noticeable. And yet, on the human, he’d noticed.

      Despite her fragile build, she had lush, ripe breasts made for a man’s hands and dangerous curves made to cradle the hardest part of him. Her legs would fit perfectly around his hips, anchoring him as he plunged into her—

      No!

      Tomorrow, he would force her to wear a robe.

      He СКАЧАТЬ