Red-Hot Lover Read online

  Had food ever tasted that good?

  “Besides,” Saul added huskily, “you know I’m the compulsive gift buyer. I’ve always enjoyed spoiling you.”

  There was no denying that. Saul had kept the gifts flowing almost on a daily basis. But in the end she hadn’t thought twice about leaving them behind. Material possessions had been of no consequence in the bigger scheme of things. They couldn’t heal a heart broken by having to give up the love of her life as a trade off for her freedom.

  Couldn’t heal her fractured soul by having to leave her son with the human race to protect him from the hardships and brutal inductions of the gargoyles.

  His stare held hers as he fed her another mouthful. “Your clothes are all still here. I had them dry cleaned and stored away in the hope you…”

  Would come back. The pancake was suddenly a tasteless lump clogging her throat.

  He’d said when Pascal left he’d almost given up hope. Had he given up on her?

  “Saul, please,” she whispered, anguished. “I had no choice. I was dying here, suffocating. I had to be true to who I am. No matter how much it broke my heart.”

  And yours.

  “And now you’re here again. What’s changed?” he asked.

  “I…”

  She closed her eyes. Would he even believe the truth? Accept that after she’d left him the Triskellon leader had forced her to stay away from Saul and her son all those years? The same gargoyle leader who’d become her lover and had then forced her to return to Saul until the human’s demise?

  Her eyes jerked open as Saul’s fork clanked to the plate and he jackknifed to his feet, holding up a hand. “Don’t,” he said. “Just…don’t. Don’t try to explain. Don’t try to make excuses. Don’t try to make it right.” He rubbed a hand over his face. “I can’t hear this right now.”

  Shock held her silent. She’d never seen Saul so emotionally charged and teetering right on the edge of losing his tightly leashed control.

  She searched his tortured gaze. Oh dear god. Despite her vow to stay, he thought he was going to lose her again. She could see it in his squared shoulders, his stiff stance and his not-quite-hidden grief. But instinct warned that no objection, however truthful, would assuage him right then.

  “Okay,” she breathed, forcing a neutral response. “I understand.”

  He unclenched his hands, letting out a long, slow breath. “I’m not sure that you do but thank you.”

  He turned to the window, taking a couple of strides to stare out at the cityscape below. He visibly relaxed. Once more in charge of his emotions, he pivoted to face her again. “A dinner birthday party and a show have been organized tonight. I’d like it if you’d accompany me.”

  She nodded. “Of course. I’d like that too.”

  His lashes swept low, his eyes a dark, dangerous glitter as he drank in her nakedness. Pain slashed across his features, as though he hated himself for wanting her.

  Something squeezed inside her chest. He might want her, but he clearly trod a fine line between love and hate. She really had her work cut out for her to make him trust her again.

  Her face must have given her away. He strode back to her, his expression fierce. “Zee, I hate that you left me, but I don’t blame you for it. I know how you love to fly. I know you’re free spirited.” He let out a heavy breath. “I’m just… I’m not used to fighting myself, my feelings.” At her nod he added huskily, “And honestly, I’m just so damn glad you’re back, I can’t find it in my heart to judge you.”

  She caught one of his hands in hers and placed in on her cheek. “I don’t deserve you,” she whispered.

  When he started to protest she pressed a finger over his lips. Closing her eyes, she guided his hand downward, along her throat and the rise of one of her breasts. Her eyes snapped open as he cupped her there, his thumb scraping over her hardening nipple.

  His hand dropped away and nothing but air caressed her tingling, aching breast. He shook his head, his eyes haunted. “You coming back to me—it’s all I ever wanted. But now all I think about is how long we have together this time before you leave.” Tension pulled his mouth into a hard line. “I’m not so sure I could live through that again.”

  “No. It’s not like that. I’m never—”

  He turned away, back rigid. “You’d better get ready.”

  She bit her tongue. He’d started with words of adoration and finished with dismissal. But she didn’t blame him for the latter. She knew only that she couldn’t make him believe her. This time her actions would have to speak for her.

  He dragged a hand through his short, styled hair. “I’ve arranged something for you to wear. You’ll find it hanging in the bathroom.” He waved a hand toward the walk-in closet. “Everything else you’ll find in there.”

  “Thank you.”

  He nodded once and then strode swiftly out of sight.

  Minutes later, freshly showered, she was contemplating the crimson dress on its hanger before her. Its cut was elegant and simple, and she soon discovered, a perfect fit.

  Saul had an amazing flair for fashion. Always had. She twirled before the full-length mirror, the spliced, multi-layered hem floating outward like a fairy dress.

  Saul had a flair for everything.

  Back in the bedroom, she walked to the closet and discovered all her old clothes hanging neatly. Most were ageless, classic styles that could be worn any decade. Dozens of shoes lined custom-made shoe racks. She selected and donned a delicate Egyptian-style pair of shoes, their long straps encircling her calves.

  She cast her eyes over the shelves of lacy underwear. She stepped back. This time, she’d do without.

  She heard Saul’s tread behind her and turned to face him. He raised a dark eyebrow, his admiring gaze sweeping her up and down. “You’re beautiful.”

  “Thank you.” She cleared her throat. “Am I forgiven then?”

  He let out a sigh. “Of course, Zee. You must know I act like all kinds of foolish when it comes to you.” He stepped forward and said huskily, “Turn around.”

  She twisted obediently, her back to him. He lifted her heavy hair aside, his warm lips brushing the sensitive skin along her nape. She shivered with longing, with deep need. Then his mouth moved away, replaced by the cool touch of an expensive gold chain. A heavy diamond pendant settled between her breasts.

  “Saul, you don’t need to—”

  “It’s my birthday, indulge me. And it pleases me to spoil you.”

  She nodded but suddenly the beautiful chain felt like a leash, a noose that—if she let it—would slowly, inexorably tighten, choking her freedom right out of her.

  She stemmed the dangerous sensations, banished the anxiety that had reared its head, if only for a moment. The freedom she’d once been so desperate to attain hadn’t been anywhere near as wonderful as she’d imagined it would.

  Oh, she’d gotten her freedom of the skies all right, but the freedom to leave the Triskellon clan without consequences had been taken much away from her. Steele had seen to that.

  His mouth brushed her scalp, his breath warm as his lips lingered. “My party awaits, we’d better go.”

  * * * * *

  All eyes turned their way as Saul escorted her into the Casino’s showroom on the fourth floor. The scattering of round tables had been removed. One huge rectangular table was set close to the stage and covered by a snowy-white cloth, trios of flickering, silver candles adorning the middle.

  A man played a baby grand on a small stage set in a corner of the room, away from the curtained main stage. Drinks waiters appeared from a side door, bottles of chilled champagne and cold bottled beer held aloft on trays.

  Lewie stood, his chair scraping back. “Happy birthday, boss.”

  A chorus of happy birthdays ensued, a good thirty or forty men and women coming to their feet and madly clapping.

  “Another year alive,” one of Saul’s men announced loudly. “Congratulations.”

  Saul grinned, tug
ging her even closer to his side. “With my many enemies, every year I’m not in a pine box is a bonus.”

  Zahlee kept the tsunami wave of shudders all on the inside. Even so, she couldn’t stop the chill that slid up and down her spine from spiking her skin with goose bumps.

  Just the thought of Saul not being around made her feel hollow inside. And not for the first time, she wondered how it would feel to be an ordinary human, growing old with Saul, sharing each other’s pain, each other’s joy. Each other’s milestones.

  Lewie strode forward and Zahlee stepped aside as he gave Saul an affectionate bear hug, slapping his back. He turned to her next, his stare lingering on her a little too long. “You look amazing.”

  “Thank you.” The words were forced and they both knew it.

  Saul speared Lewie with a look that made Zahlee think alpha, and then he was leading her to the table and pulling out her seat. No sooner had he sat beside her than the first course arrived, like clockwork.

  While Lewie’s two women ate delicately and sparingly—and no doubt the handful of other women at the table—she all but wolfed down each course, appreciating every morsel of the seafood ravioli, whole stuffed quail with Greek side salad, and finally a rich chocolate fondant.

  Though she was in human form, she still carried all her gargoyle characteristics. Her DNA demanded sustenance to keep her going, to produce the ability to shift into gargoyle and back to human at any time.

  Lewie’s blonde and brunette duo exchanged a look and then openly sniggered.

  Zahlee raised her chin then slowly, deliberately, licked each of her fingers free of chocolate, like a satisfied woman after a good lovemaking session.

  Saul’s rumble of laughter filled the air. He tilted her chin up with a thumb and said approvingly, “I always did love your healthy appetite, my sweet.”

  The smile she exchanged with him was secretive, seductive. His eyes glowed in response, primitive and hot. And she realized he now paid the price for his earlier ardent restraint.

  The lights abruptly dimmed. The man at the piano was joined by a trumpet player and a saxophonist. A few seconds later the room was filled with a happy birthday tune just as a spotlight hit the stage and a buxom redhead stepped through the curtains.

  Zahlee arched a brow as the woman on stage fixed her sultry stare on Saul and sang her rendition in a sexy, come-hither voice.

  The song finally over, the jazz band fired up a raunchy tune, which allowed the redhead to drop any pretence of modesty as she strutted around the stage. She slipped free from her sequined jacket and barely there, ass-covering skirt, to reveal a glittery white bra and G-string.

  Zahlee squirmed in her seat. She was aware that Saul’s eyes had barely strayed to the redhead. His stare had remained on her like a predator waiting for a reaction, even as the men around the table roared approval, their eyes wholly focused on the stripper on stage.

  The dancer stepped off the stage and onto the big table. And though she stuck a thumb in her mouth to project schoolgirl innocence, her gyrations and hungry eyes suggested nothing short of a come-eat-me look.

  Zahlee swallowed, despising the woman and yet unable to look away.

  The appreciative male roars grew in volume as the stripper unclipped her scanty bra and her large breasts spilled free. A bellybutton ring flashed like fire under the dazzling light as she cupped her breasts, fondling them.

  The dancer smiled suggestively, pushing a hand down the front of her G-string to touch herself, her stare not once leaving Saul.

  Zahlee grew hot, aroused despite herself. Then again, what did she expect with her gargoyle genetics? She was hardwired to be stimulated easily, to breed and repopulate her dwindling species.

  It never ceased to amaze her that a human she’d hated had managed to impregnate her when no gargoyle ever had. Her only wish was that the one human she truly loved was Pascal’s real father—a stupid and perhaps selfish wish, knowing that Saul did love Pascal like his own son. When she at last turned to meet Saul’s eyes, she witnessed his disinterest in the dancer who all but fucked him from afar. But then she noted the gleam behind his stare, a zealous appetite for her whetted by the exotic dancer.

  Zahlee smiled, her lashes dropping low as her pussy tightened with anticipation.

  It was going to be a long night.

  The stripper, miffed by Saul’s rejection, turned away from them to find the next best thing—apparently Lewie. The redhead stood above his lustful stare with her legs spread wide apart. Her hands moved to cup behind her head, her large breasts jutting out even further as she closed her eyes.

  Lewie whipped her G-string aside, exposing her pussy with its strip of red curls. And without ceremony he thrust four of his fingers into her channel, his hand moving with rhythmic, forceful expertise.

  Saul waved at the jazz band to stop. As they dispersed, Zahlee watched Lewie scrape a thumb over the stripper’s clit with unrelenting, bulldozer pressure. The woman moaned, a sound of pained relief, her cunt juices smearing her thighs.

  Lewie’s wicked, carnal gaze slid over to Zahlee for the briefest moment, then moved on to the ladies seated on either side of him as he dropped his hand.

  Zahlee shivered. The redhead might suffer from humiliation right then but the blonde and brunette would be bruised, sore and hard-core fucked come morning.

  The stripper’s high-heeled shoes clacked across the table in the ensuing thick silence. Once back on stage, the redhead scooted behind the curtains without a backward look.

  Saul cast Lewie a dark look. “I hope you’ve all enjoyed tonight’s entertainment.” He twisted back to Zahlee. “Zee, if Lewie offended—”

  She sent Lewie a scathing look. “Actually, he did.” Repressed emotions bubbled to the surface, scalding heat flushing her face. “And I think he should be made to suffer the consequences of his actions.”

  Chapter Four

  Saul ignored the audible gasp from the people around the table. He leaned forward, brushing the back of his fingertips along her jaw. “Oh?”

  She nodded, her hands squeezing into fists on her lap. “He’s a monster who gets kicks out of demeaning women.”

  Saul raised a brow. “Then what would you suggest as his penalty?”

  She lifted her chin. “No women. No sex. For a month.”

  Lewie pushed to his feet, his face mottled with purple and red. “That’s outrageous. Boss, you can’t possibly take her seriously—”

  Saul stood without a word but there was steel in his stare as he faced the other man down. Lewie dropped back to his seat with a savage oath and Saul gestured to the blonde and brunette. Seconds later they were tripping over themselves to find the quickest exit.

  Saul turned his stare on each individual around the table. “I expect each one of you to monitor Lewie’s movements. If for some reason he ignores the punishment, the first person to inform me will be amply rewarded. “

  Rage shimmered from Lewie like fire radiating heat. Lewie would undoubtedly want to exact his own brand of revenge on her. Zahlee held his hard stare and smiled. She’d not be intimidated. Not this time. Not by any man.

  With a satisfied nod Saul sat and took her hand in his.

  Thank you, she mouthed.

  He leaned forward and tugged her toward him until they met halfway. “You’re welcome, my angel,” he murmured.

  Their lips gently touched. He groaned a little and the pressure intensified. Her mouth parted as the tip of his tongue slid inside, flooding nerve endings with heat. Lost in the moment she sighed, opening her mouth fully to his skilled seduction.

  A chair scraped back loudly. They pulled apart, dazed.

  She realized Lewie was standing, waiting for their attention, the other guests struck silent by his nerve. “The dinner and show is over now, boss. Can I suggest the men withdraw for cigars and a scotch?”

  Saul stared hard at Lewie. The other man’s gaze dropped once again and Saul returned his full attention to Zee. Few would be fooled. Lewie h
ad received a temporary reprieve but he’d pay for his disrespect.

  Saul waved a hand through the air, letting his wrath slide for the moment. “You men can go. I’m staying with my woman.”

  The silence stretched, taut and expectant. She glanced at the shocked faces around them, most of them familiar. Had they forgotten how smitten Saul had been with her all those years ago? She had been his everything.

  Yes, and you were stifled.

  The room seemed suddenly to shrink, the people sitting too close, the heavy feminine perfumes, the cigar smoke, too cloying, too smothering. Her spine tingled and itched with the sudden inner upheaval, her wings ready to burst free.

  She closed her eyes, breathing slowly, controlling her panic. The violent sexual assault from her past may have made her susceptible to these occasional, terrifying bouts of anxiety, but she’d learned how to overcome them.

  “Sweetheart, are you okay.”

  She opened her eyes, forcing composure. “I’m fine.” She swallowed hard then managed a smile. “You go on up with the men. I…I’d like some fresh air.”

  His eyes darkened fractionally. She held her breath, her teeth gnawing on the inside of one cheek. Then he relented with a sharp nod. “Very well.”

  But it wasn’t very well. She sensed his reluctance, his desire to stay by her side.

  The women ordered coffee and tea as the men scraped back their chairs and moved toward the elevator that would take them to the private card room. Ever the gentleman, Saul pulled out her chair first, so that she too could leave the room.

  She nodded and then made her escape toward the glazed doors leading to the large balcony. She felt the women’s stares on her back, had a pretty good idea she’d be their topic of conversation when the gleeful gossip about the stripper and Lewie had palled.

  She sucked in the outside air. Unlike the fresh purity of the inland air, it was tainted with pollution, an amalgam of city fumes. Even so, she was grateful for the space, the solitude and relative peace and quiet.

  She hooked her hands over the rail. Moonlight flooded her face, a cool breeze whispered over her skin. She squeezed her eyes shut. For one moment at least she could pretend there wasn’t a blanket of city lights spread out before her, pretend she wasn’t sharing this cityscape with over four and a half-million people.