‘I mean this: you are a miracle, not a monster. You did not choose to be a witch, but I chose to be a faithless bastard. Of the two, I am far more evil than you, Clio. I am everything you’ve heard and worse. I will burn in the fires of hell for my sins.’
‘What if I want to burn with you?’ Her words were air on coals, breathing heat into his already blazing arousal and destroying his reason. No matter what his goal, she seemed determined to work against him. Only in this, a hopelessly optimistic part of himself was thrilled.
Because what if. What if we burned together?
The idea was impossible to dismiss even when he knew one taste of Clio would never be enough. She was innocent and inexperienced, but she also knew what she wanted and wasn’t shy about voicing those desires. Lissa hid her hatred of Thomas for so long, when he finally realised she despised him, he couldn’t argue. He hated himself just as vehemently. But Clio wore her feelings for Thomas on her leather sleeve. Her disdain and desire were as bright and contradictory as her colourful dresses. It was refreshing. He knew exactly where he stood with her. And he wanted her. More desperately than any other woman.
She doesn’t really want me. Only the fire between us. Which means I can’t hurt her by having nothing more to give than this.
He was playing a dangerous game. Justifying what he wanted against what he knew he should do. An honourable man would walk away. But Sir Robin was right; he was a bastard. If he was destined to spend eternity in hell, he might as well enjoy the heat.
‘Be careful what you ask for. Some deals, once struck, can’t be taken back. Are you sure you want to take this path?’
Do you want me? Even if it is only for this moment?
She bit her lip, and his already swollen cock turned granite. ‘Yes. I mean, perhaps. It depends.’
For a woman who fearlessly leapt when others might flee, he found her hesitation desperately sweet. ‘On what?’
‘What do you expect?’
To walk away from this irrevocably altered. To fall deeper than I want and not nearly far enough. To become bewitched by a sorceress and hope the spell is never broken.
‘Just this. Here. Now. You control where we go. When it’s over, it’s over.’I don’t think this will ever be over for me.But he told her what she wanted to hear, because he couldn’t tell her the truth.
Clio swallowed. Her bruised throat contracted, reminding Thomas of all she had faced this evening. All he still did not know. But he would find out. Whoever had attacked his wicked witch would pay. He was going to hunt down the enigma and wreak holy hell. Later. First, he was going to seduce Clio.
‘What if I don’t want to control where we go? What if I’m tired of always being in control?’ She looked away from him, her gaze drawn to the windows at his back where the reflection of the flames danced in the glass. ‘What if I want someone else to lead?’
It was a staggering admission. For her to admit such a shocking desire. And it cost her. He knew by the way her body trembled.
She is bewitching me. Each word from her mouth a spell binding meto her. And I am longing to be entranced. She is far more dangerous than I ever guessed. And me, the fool who always loved a bit of danger.
Damnation.
Dear goddess. What have I done?
It must have been the interaction with Viscount Beachley. Clio was still shaken. Perhaps the spectre had stolen her wits entirely.
She didn’t think the ghost wanted to hurt her. Indeed, she wasn’t even sure he saw Clio when he wrapped his hand around her throat. He had been attacking his murderer. But it didn’t stop the violence from shaking her to the core. Whatever Viscount Beachley faced in his final moments, Clio did not envy him. And she was more determined than ever to help him. The whole encounter had been disastrous. Then the worst had happened. Grey saw her.
He knew the truth.
But instead of reacting the way she expected, hurling accusations, condemning her, holding her to the flame, he’d stepped into the blaze himself and admitted his own damning secrets. It was unaccountable.
‘You are a miracle, not a monster.’
Words Clio never expected to hear, and certainly not from Lieutenant General Grey.
The rest of what he shared, the things he had done with other women, was as illuminating as it was incendiary. She wanted to understand the why. But the what had stolen her reason. The images he conjured! She nearly swooned. And Clio never swooned.
In any of the silly discussions she had with Ellie and Helena about potential romantic entailments, Ellie spoke of everlasting love. Helena wanted anonymous, passionate liaisons. And Clioimagined a simple man she could instruct based on her own explorations and then discard with little fuss.
But there was nothing simple about Grey. She couldn’t possibly instruct him. The man was a bloody expert in an area she had almost no knowledge. And she certainly couldn’t discard him without a great deal of fuss. Not after the things he’d seen. And the things he’d said.
Sweet goddess!
It awakened a need in her. To let go of everything. To let someone else – Grey – take responsibility for something she had given far too little time to in her life: pleasure. What a wondrous and terrifying thought.
