“Well you already dismissed the journal.” She waved her hand. “Hand it here.”
“There is no reason to read this tripe.” He shook the book, his eyes a dark jade.
“I beg to differ. It gives a terrible insight into the deceased woman.”
“Here is an insight—she’s dead. This book is ten years old. Go through the more recent documents.”
“But the book has a whole host of reasons why someone would want to murder her.”
Gabriel paused in his movement, and she took it as a sign to continue.
“They were debauched, this circle of six women.” She lowered her voice and leaned forward, as if spilling a dark secret. “I think they used men, younger boys, to do as they would. She hasn’t spelled it out yet, but it becomes more apparent in every sentence.” She lowered her voice further. “I think they had male sex slaves.”
“Sex slaves? Quite a bawdy opinion for a woman who has just recently experienced the pleasure of sex herself.”
“Stop poking fun. This is serious. They were using young men for ill deeds.”
“Using them?” He seemed amused, but there was something in his eyes that made her shift in her seat. “I would think most men would be thrilled to have six—is that how many you said?—womenusethem.”
Marietta bit her lip and looked back down at the book. “I don’t know. It sounds like some of the victims were willing, but there are a few they forced—”
“Victims?” He gave a harsh laugh. “Most would scoff at your use. How old were these boys?”
She mentally flipped back through. “Sixteen to twenty.”
“A normal sixteen-year-old boy wouldn’t have known what hit him if six women pounced on him.”
“I can’t believe that. You are saying that a man would have no regard for being taken advantage of?”
“By six willing women?”
“It doesn’t matter if the women are willing, if they are the ones doing the abuse!”
“Are they ugly, wretched hags?”
“It sounds like they were not. What difference does that make?”
“Then thenormalsixteen-year-old would have been best pleased, would he not?”
She crossed her arms. “You are horrible.”
“I am saying what most men would tell you.”
“I don’t care.” She reached out and grabbed the journal. “It sounds like this boy right here didn’t want to participate, and theymadehim.” She flipped through it. “They called him a pet name because he stood defiant—their aven—”
Gabriel plucked the book from her grasp and tossed it on the far side of the room, where it landed with athwackagainst the hardwood floor. “Stop reading that.”
“No!”
His hand slipped to the back of her neck and gave it a gentle caress. Her eyes connected with his and he leaned forward. She leaned in as well, his lips met hers and she savored the feel—soft and strong.
Her body was already responding—warmth rising, tingles flowing. He would have her. She would let him. It would be so easy to give in. Did that say she had no measure of resistance?
She pushed away slowly. “I want to finish reading that book.”
“No.”
“No?” Testing herself turned to indignation. “You can’t tell me no.”
