Covet the Night, page 4
"Have I done something to offend ya?" William asked coldly.
"Not you." Gwen mimicked his frosty tone, her righteous anger and determination steeling her nerves. She hiked her chin up an inch. "Your chest, on the other hand, needlessly insulted my nose." She crossed her arms and stared at him expectantly.
"Fishing for an apology?" He shook his head from side to side, his mouth twisted into a sardonic smile. He'd met her type before; bold and presumptuous, but none of them were human. "You ran into me." William closed the space between them in a single stride and shoved his hands into his pockets as he leaned down. Gwen stiffened as his scruffy beard grazed her cheek. "And it wasn't me putting their nose where it didn't belong." He pulled back and eyed with satisfaction the flush spreading across the girl's cheeks.
She balled her hands into fists. The hybrid's smug delight shed his rugged features into a rakish handsomeness that nettled Gwen in its perfection. Her body thrummed with traitorous attraction as she battled to keep her temper in check.
"No one likes an eavesdropper."
"I wasn't eavesdropping. I was merely out—"
The lie was cut short with an aggressive guffaw from the giant man. "There isn't any use in lying, sweet. I heard your heartbeat and footfall while I was chatting with Irina."
Pinpricks of apprehension peppered Gwen's nape. "If you heard, why not confront me earlier?" He cocked his head and dragged his eyes across her slender frame. She felt his appraisal keenly. On his second pass, her ire rose. On his third, her patience splintered. "Well? Are you just going to keep staring at me, or may I be on my way?"
She didn't wait for his response before she took a determined step to the side, intent on passing him.
William allowed her to gain a few more feet, and faster than she could blink, he was back in front of her. She flinched back with a small gasp. The veins in her throat pressed snuggly against her skin as she tilted her head back to meet his cruel expression head-on. He didn't like eavesdroppers, be they shifter, vampyré, or sorcerer. This girl would have to be dealt with.
But first, he needed a few questions answered.
"Who sent you?" William asked roughly. His eyes lingered over her hair, waiting for confirmation of what he assumed: the Roux. The color drained from Gwen's face. She didn't answer. "Don't make me ask a second time."
The need to fidget consumed Gwen as her pulse picked up its tempo. "Nobody sent me to spy on you," she managed to say through partially gritted teeth. By the look on William's face, he didn't believe it. She scowled, her wayward tongue lashing out before she could stop it. "You're hardly worth the effort."
Shock filtered across William's face before his features crashed down in malcontent. "Is that so?" Gwen gave an indifferent shrug and deftly took a few steps back. "You've a death wish, is that it?"
A death wish? No, Gwen thought. Death was a guarantee—a pinky promise with no takebacks or clever loopholes.
"Hardly." The disdainful answer only added fuel to her previous insult. Fire blazed behind William's narrowed eyes.
"With a mouth like that, you're just begging for someone to snap that neck o' yours," he purred, inching closer to her. The veins in her neck pulsed a little more savagely against her slender neck. "And it just so happens to be your lucky night." The woman's eyes widened in alarm. Her legs mindlessly propelled her back as William slowly pursued her. "You heard too much, sweet. Can't keep a conversation secret if someone knows who ought not to."
"Wait!" Gwen cried as he sauntered forward. He reminded her of a wolf biding its time before it delivered its fatal blow.
"I'll do you a mercy and make it quick," he said almost kindly, "You wouldn't get such treatment from another."
Plan B. What is my Plan B? Gwen wondered.
With dreams of eternal life and self-discovery on the line, she acted without a second thought. Her hands jumped to the back of her neck to untie the dress's flimsy fastening. The hasty act was met with no complaint or encouragement; William simply carried on his predatory advance and Gwen her stumbling retreat.
The material gave beneath Gwen's insistent fingers. She stopped as the twin silken cords fell down her chest, dragging the rest of the top with it—mostly. Paralyzed with mortification that the lightweight fabric would stop a mere inch away from revealing the tips of her breasts, Gwen dropped her hands awkwardly to her sides, unwilling to tug the material the rest of the way down. She was certain that unflattering blotches of red colored her angular cheekbones and neck. She'd been sure the small set of her cleavage would ensure that the material would fall fully—if not artfully—down to its cinched empire waist.
She'd been wrong.
William's advance came to a brusque halt. His nostrils flared as his metallic eyes fixated on Gwen's chest. After an uncomfortable amount of time of no movement, she glanced down.
A strangled noise left Gwen. She rushed to gather the material of her dress and jerk it upward to cover her—
"Don't." William clasped her wrist, stopping the modest gesture.
The command came roughly from his throat as if hauled out by sheer force of will. William couldn’t help but gape at the sight before him. There, on her chest, though half obscured by a pink scar, was a mark identical to the one near the top of his spine: a Celtic spiral, but not just any spiral—a triquetra. The two visible—though distorted—arced points gave it away. If his heart were still beating, it might burst out of his chest. This woman was his soulmark. She owned the other half of his soul; his perfect match divined by some deity or another. And she was within arm's reach.
Desire flashed through his body as he ran his gaze over her again, viewing her in an entirely new light.
She was stunning.
Her face was flushed with emotion, almost to the point where it matched her garnet hair. Every part of her was slender, from her face to her hips—a little too slender, in William's opinion. But that was a problem easily solved, unlike how he would convince her to accept their fate and bind together. Oh, and accomplish it all while she was under the Roux's protection.
William held back a scowl.
He'd heard rumors of the Roux's little initiation, and his gut was telling him she was part of it. If he was right, the Roux would be a bigger problem than anticipated.
If they discovered her soulmark, there was no telling what they'd do. Territorial bitches, the entire lot of them, William thought savagely and vengeful to boot. At least William’s matching mark was hidden amongst his heavy assortment of tattoos. William knew the Roux weren't above eating their young or sacrificing lovers to their arachnid bite when they feel the sting of neglect. His first focus would have to be seeing her and spending time with her without arousing too much of the Roux’s suspicions.
Of course, he could always take matters into his own hands. He could bypass their influence and take her to bind their souls into one right now. It would only take three magical incantations, one to seal, one to mark, and one to bind their souls together forever more. There'd be nothing the Roux could do to undo his claim on her then, but the idea turned his stomach sour immediately. He'd not resort to force. Besides, he liked the idea of her wanting him without reservation before knowing anything about the higher power that destined them for one another.
He'd wager everything he owned that she hadn't a clue as to the true meaning of the ruined mark on her chest—nor anyone else, for that matter. He could work with that. He'd seduce her, convince her that a life with him was far more desirable than one with the Roux. But he hadn't much time, for he didn’t know how long the initiation would take. And—
Cold reality dashed over him.
She'd overheard a conversation of a sensitive nature. He cursed to hell and back inwardly. He couldn't let her leave without securing her word that she'd not tell a soul what she overheard.
William scowled. How the hell would he do that?
Gwen was beginning to panic. William's unnerving gaze had swept over her more times than she could count and now lay resolutely on the puckered line over her chest that bolted toward her navel.
She studied his expression, hoping to discern his intent. The lax jaw. The stricken stare. The wonder and horror etched across his face.
Why is he so confused?
"It's just a scar," she said hoarsely, cringing at the rapid rise and fall of her chest.
A subtle pressure hinted at her wrist, and Gwen's hands relinquished her dress. This time the top of the dress fell farther. The curled seam rested precariously on the taut peak of her nipple, revealing in full her dusty areolas.
William released her wrist to investigate the throbbing artery at her throat, seemingly unbothered by the partial display of nudity. Gwen's breath hitched. The gentle brush of his fingertips incited a rebellious flurry in her stomach.
And then his fingers moved lower. She squeaked in dismay.
William's blazing copper eyes darted up at the sound, locking on her brown ones. A rampant tangle of emotions flared in his turbulent gaze: hunger, resentment, frustration, lust, and hope. There were too many for Gwen to count, were too easy to get lost in. Her exhalation came and went in a shaky expulsion as his fingers trailed across the delicate skin over her collarbone and dipped into the hollow between them.
"I—" I'm not usually like this, she longed to say.
She was usually composed. A lifetime of emotional manipulation at the hands of her father, though swathed in a number of drawbacks, came with some perks, such as a heavily guarded heart and an ability to play it cool whenever she wished. But once she left her father's home, she'd loosened the reins on her control. Gwen wanted to live the rest of her short life without restriction on her emotions.
The reins further slipped from her grasp upon entering the Dark Court, and now him. Gwen couldn't explain why her body was so fevered in his presence or her temper so inflamed. Perhaps it was because of the gleam in his eye, as if he knew something she didn't. It rankled.
As his touch decreased to a single knuckle and trailed south down the path of her scar, Gwen experienced the oddest sensation. Like fire kindling in her veins, a sudden and unexpected wash of warmth stole through her limbs and left her breathless. Her lashes fluttered as the sensation faded and his knuckle came to rest on her top.
For his part, William's eyes flared with the same heat, followed swiftly by triumph.
"I usually put makeup on it," Gwen found herself saying as she struggled for composure.
"Why?"
Her eyes widened. "Because people always stare." Like you.
Her internal observation must have read on her face because William's lips twitched in amusement.
"Heart surgery?" he asked and dropped his hand.
Gwen shifted her weight from one foot to the other, wincing at the way it pinched her toes. After another second's hesitation, she nodded.
"When I was six." Her eyes darted away, then back to his steadfast regard after shuffling back a step. "Car accident."
A hum of acknowledgment came from the hulking man. "S'nothing to be ashamed of." He spoke with a warmth that shamelessly mimicked what she'd experienced at his touch moments ago. Her throat bobbed uncertainly as she eyed him. "And what's that bit there?"
Gwen looked down at her chest to see the mark he gestured to with a tip of his chin, though it wasn't necessary. She knew what he was referring to. The dark birthmark on her skin was partly distorted from her scar but mostly ruined. All that remained of the strange stain was the remnants of what looked to be two arcs that might have been joined at one point until the scar took over. She pondered its odd shape endlessly as a child and consulted with a dermatologist on multiple occasions when she was older. They'd been of little help to explain its formation but assured her confidently that it was of no threat to her health.
When Gwen spoke of her habitual makeup routine, it was in reference to the blemish at the center of her chest, not the scar. She'd yet to find anything that could cover it completely, only products that dulled its dark coloring and obscured its notable shape.
"A birthmark," she explained.
He hummed again, though Gwen thought it lent closer to a growl. Oh God, he’s going to eat me.
But the longer he stared, the more her fear of becoming a snack lessened, and her impatience rose. If he was going to kill her, she wished he would get it over with instead of attempting to peer into her soul.
"Am I keeping you away from something?" William asked when Gwen let out a huff of annoyance and rocked back on her heels. His gaze dragged up her chest to her eyes, lingering on her lips long enough for a new warmth to crawl over her face. "Or from someone? A lover, perhaps?"
Gwen glared at him, her arms moving of their own accord to cross over her chest before stopping awkwardly in their pursuit. "Yes," she snarled. Her hands dove for the halter straps, but William's got there first. He brought the straps around her neck, righting the top of her dress.
His molten stare seared her. "And to which are you referring?"
His movements bespoke of a man with time at his disposal, which Gwen supposed he had. However, she did not.
Why is he being so gentle now? Her nerves stood on high alert. Is this his sick idea of mercy? Prolong my life by mere minutes to perform one last kind gesture and do up my dress?
"I have somewhere to be," she replied, bending her neck reluctantly to allow his hands more room to work. His fingers weren't as cold as she expected them to be, far warmer than Laurel's icy touch. "And someone to see."
"No lover?" he asked nonchalantly.
He peeled his hands away after finishing and took a large step back. Gwen stared at him in confusion, eyebrows bunching together and wrinkles creasing her forehead. What is he playing at? He couldn't be attracted to her after that pathetic attempt at seduction.
"You're one of them, aren't you?"
"What are you doing?"
Their simultaneous questions caused both to pause and stare expectantly at one another, but it was William who conceded first.
"What do you mean, sweet?"
Gwen kept her frown firmly in place at the endearment. "What is happening right now? What are you doing?" She made a vague gesture to her dress and then between them, wrist flopping indignantly. "Why aren't you… killing me?"
"A man can change his mind if he wants to."
Gwen's spine went rigid. Her clear displeasure lessened to cling tenuously at the corner of her lips and scrunched nose, though suspicion was sinking deeper into her bones.
"Why—"
William's hand rose. "Everyone's whispering about how the Roux are looking for new blood. You're one of 'em, aren't ya? One of their little initiates."
"So, what if I am?"
He palmed his beard. "What do they have you sneaking about for, eh?"
Gwen scoffed, wrapping her arms around her middle as she shot him a reproving look.
"You don't actually think I'll—"
"Oh, I most certainly do," he interrupted, lashes lowering to regard her with hooded, smoldering eyes. "I'm sparing your life, sweet. Now answer me. What do the Roux have you hunting for? Information? Secrets? Gossip?"
In the face of William's demands, something clicked in Gwen that unearthed her missing composure. "I'm an initiate," she said with bland emphasis. "I'm going through initiation."
"So, what's the prize you're after to earn their kiss of death?"
Gwen's back molars clamped down on her tongue. This was not going as planned. Hadn't Liv said this would be easier? Less messy? She'd be lucky if he was telling the truth and that he'd really changed his mind. If not, then she'd rather die knowing she hadn't betrayed the Roux. The metallic tang of blood hit the back of her throat. Swallowing, she managed to keep on her bland facade and replied.
"That's none of your business."
"You're not in the position to—"
"Then kill me," Gwen cut in with a burst of heat, "or get the hell out of my way because either way, I'm not telling you shit." Gauntlet thrown, she waited for his response, her nerves on fire. She expected outrage, a snarled retort, or a hand wrapped around her neck, not this. "You're laughing? Seriously?"
William paused, at first seemingly dumbstruck by her fierce response, before promptly doubling over in laughter. Gwen's jaw clenched at his gall. But then her eyes darted around the hall in apprehension. What if someone overheard his laughter and came to investigate? Like Irina? Gwen doubted her chances of survival then. Mouth snapping shut, she backtracked with her heart in her throat.
If he continued like this, she'd be able to get a decent head start. Maybe she'd lose him in this labyrinth… or get lost herself. More lost, she corrected herself with a cringe.
Gwen gained foot after foot without notice. She was light-headed with anticipation. And then, because fate was a cruel mistress intent on testing her just as thoroughly as the Roux, her heel caught in the ruin of her dress. The sound of fabric tearing was all Gwen could comprehend as she froze.
William's laughter stopped. The top of his bronze head tilted back to level her with a dark look. Gwen ran—directly into William's chest.
"Ow! God da—" Gwen choked out several expletives as her fingers prodded gently at her nose. "Rude." She glared at his expression, a mixture of annoyed and amused.
"Trying to leave?"
"Yes, I'm trying to leave," she snapped. "I'm on a deadline."
William pressed his tongue against the back of his teeth and sucked in his cheeks to hold back a laugh. He was enjoying this: her aggravated flush, her rhythmic pulse, the floral scent wafting off her skin. Her deadline could hold off a while longer if it meant he got to linger in her presence. Besides… he still needed her word.
A growl was tickling up the back of Gwen's throat as she watched his tapered amusement. Her left eye twitched irritably. Unable to form words that wouldn't make him rescind his recent change of heart, she’d fused her lips together.
"I suppose we'll have to come to some other agreement then if you're unwilling to share." William crowded closer, herding her backward until cool stone met her back. A flood of goose bumps erupted over her flesh as his hand approached her throat.
