CHAPTER SIX
GISELLA
I couldn't tear my gaze away from Sebastian as he stalked the few paces toward me. For a single moment, he towered over me, then dropped to his heels, kneeling on the floor at my side.
A wash of coolness swept over me, like he was both there and not, all at once. He studied me; dark eyes boring into my own, reaching to the corners of my soul. But it wasn’t the clinical probing a local docteur might inflict, rather that coolness turned to a comforting warmth, spreading through me as the world narrowed down to him alone.
One hand rose, his fingers curling inches from my skin before he dropped them, the moment broken by his jarring movement. The ghost of his touch caressed my cheek where his phantom touch had been a second ago. A swipe of his deft fingers flicked away the short jacket I wore, exposing my shoulders. The material slithered off my arms. I clutched it to my stomach as a pithy shield.
His mouth turned up in a rueful smile. “I’ve taken liberties with you, haven’t I? After all, you’ve just arrived. I forget things like…time.”
Though he stared into my eyes—right through me—Sebastian seemed far distant from where we sat, lost somewhere in a place I couldn't reach. He blinked, as though rushing back to our shared present. Where he had gone in that moment?
He was right; I knew little about him, and he knew as much about me, though I suspected he might have collected more information about who I was on the journey from the abbey to our home. His home. Was it mine now, too? Not in the monetary sense, but would I call this place home forever now?
I had spent so many months in transit, uncertain. A guest in abbey after abbey, with no place to find solidarity in my fate. Now I had that, it seemed more tenuous than ever.
His soft laugh brought me back. “I’m not the only one with an odd sense of time.” He offered a small smile to ease his words, turning them from an insult to a…something else. An offering, perhaps.
That tiny bridge brought me a little closer to him. When he spoke, I detected the very faint undercurrent of an accent lilting his words. If I hadn’t been from France, from his province, I doubted I would have noticed it at all.
“I arrived…” I trailed off, trying to think when it had been, and realized that in the rush of everything that had happened, I had no idea what the date was—or when we had landed in New Orleans. I offered a wan smile. “Perhaps I’m more tired than I thought.”
A pathetic offering, and by Sebastian’s creased brow, he agreed.
“I’ve been a poor host.”
“Husband.”
“I beg your pardon?”
“You’re my husband. Not...not a poor husband. Just that you are one. Mine,” I ended feebly, wishing I’d never opened my mouth at all.
His mouth pressed into a line. Neither thick nor thin—his arched lips a rosy hue, not the over plumpness of the courtiers of home, too soft, too indulged, though I knew his smile could curl something in my chest alongside his lips.
“Yes,” he replied, canting his head, as though thinking it over. “I am your husband, aren’t I?”
His eyes caught mine again, drifting downwards, over my decolletage, to the concave curve of a traveler’s stomach. When his hooded gaze rose to meet mine, dark desire lingered there.
My cheeks heated, knowing what must come.
Do you want this or don’t you, Gisella?
A voice echoed in my head, and with a start, I thought it was his. It’s not my choice. I became his property the moment I married…him. My cheeks burned. If I couldn’t concentrate on this moment, he would write me off as a simpleton, and I’d be left to myself for who knew how long.
I’d heard of arranged marriages where the partners lived their own lives, took on a group of friends in a lonely life, but here? Here, there was no one but me, Sebastian, and the servants. I shook myself, trying to get my head straight, and took a sip of champagne.
Bubbles fizzed about my lips, sending the alcohol to my head.
“You are,” I said softly, unsure what question I answered, clutching my napkin as he returned to his assessment.
“Then there are some things we need to talk about.” Sebastian straightened his legs with a long sigh, as though he were an old man and the weight of the world rested upon him.
“What—um, things?” I twiddled my napkin until it frayed at one end, sipping my champagne with my other hand.
The flush went straight down, this time, heating my chest. My nipples tightened, their hard outline visible at the edge of the fabric constraining my dress, though I daren't look down to see what color my pale skin turned. I sighed, slipping my coat back a little to ease the warmth that left me languid beneath his gaze.
“Gisella—” My husband straightened, and I realized how close he sat.
“Seb—”
Our names collided. He planted his fists on the back of my chair, looming over me. When had he moved closer? My breath shortened, and I was sure I'd pop a button or something.
He leaned closer, his breath kissing my lips when he paused. A visible shudder wracked him, his grip on the chair back stretching the fabric behind my shoulders.
“I should—Gella—” He used the name I'd preferred since childhood without knowing, and I accepted it, without thought.
“You should,” I whispered, and wrapped my hands around his collar, tugging him down to me.
His lips found mine, pressing hard at first, then softening, exploring. His tongue swept across the seam of my lips, and I gasped at the intimate caress. The tension that wound tight inside me all day unspool as he thrust his tongue roughly inside my mouth, then as his kisses before danced in light flicks against my own.
I followed his movements as though it were a waltz for two alone, letting him lead and learning how he wanted me to respond to his silent commands. My body fizzed with need and aches I’d never experienced in my life. Flirtations in Paris were so commonplace that they meant little to nothing at all.
This experience was well outside of my frame of reference. Every touch, every kiss left me craving more of him. Cool fingers brushed my warmed cheek, knuckles grazing my jawline as he tipped my head back, slanting his mouth across mine until he arced over my body. I moved with him, seeking more contact, more kisses… more .
His hands tangled in my hair, fisting the loose ends as he deepened the kiss. A moan slipped from my lips, or maybe it was his. It didn’t matter; we were both as lost in each other, our bodies entangled and fighting against clothing that got in the way of our discovery. One arm slipped behind my waist, lifting me against his hard form to pull me closer.
The fabric of my jacket curled back as though by his will alone. It dropped to the floor, leaving my shoulders bare to his hungry touch. When his cool hands pressed flush to my back, I whimpered. He traced my shoulder blades, long fingers sliding beneath my dress as I clung to him, swept away in the emotion.
Sensation whirled around me in a dizzying montage of hands and lips and tongues. My skin heated wherever he touched me, his hands tugging at the edge of my dress.
“Wait,” I gasped, breathless, as the eyelets holding the material together began to part. I clutched my dress up, pressing it to my chest. “Sebastian, shouldn’t we…?”
Be in a bed? Wasn’t that the proprietary thing to do? His touch, so experienced over my innocence, reminded me how little I knew of what a marriage was supposed to be beyond Amy’s strange interludes and stories I weren’t sure whether to believe in, or not.
His soft laugh brushed the edges of my mind, his kisses trailing along my throat to the curve of my ear. Without offering me an answer Sebastian sucked and licked at the sensitive spot there until I cried out; a wanton sound that left me in a realm of embarrassment and pure need. Heat gushed between my legs, a sweet ache tingling swollen flesh there.
“We should,” he said firmly.
The material at my breast tugged tight. An eyelet popped free, then another. Pulling me from the chair Sebastian braced me against, he dragged us to the floor, kneeling over me. Strong arms cradled my weight until my head met the plush carpet with a gentle bump, then his mouth was on mine again, and I couldn’t think at all.
Swaths of material tangled around my legs. I twisted, flicking at the knotted fabric until I could move again. Sebastian grasped my waist, his hands encompassed me, and jerked my body up to meet his. That arched, wicked mouth still punishing mine, he pulled me hard against his chest.
My world inverted, blood rushing in both directions. Every kiss left me senseless and overwhelmed, reacting to his touch by pure instinct. I explored his shoulders and chest, running over the planes of muscle there, the curves and ridges beneath his fine shirt.
He groaned, shucking the offending article over his head. Red lips parted, he stared down at me like I was the last meal he’d ever eat and was determined to gorge himself. His chest heaved, a slick of sweat gracing his hard muscle, giving him a carved quality. As though he wasn’t quite of this time, or any other.
Sucking in a long, shuddering breath of my own, needing the calming, cool air to soothe the heat that flushed me head to toe, I reached tentative, trembling hands to run my fingertips over the lines of his stomach.
Sebastian stopped breathing altogether, his jaw clenched, eyes wreathed in dark flame that went on and on behind a dark soul lingering there. His silence offered a sort of permission. I resumed my journey, running over hard ridges of lean muscle, tracing the tight peaks of his chest.
The breath he held hissed between his teeth, but he didn’t stop me from touching him. Braced on one forearm, his grip around my waist loosened, sliding along my backbone. Spikes of painful pleasure followed his caress. I arched with the sensation, surrendering my body to his touch. He tugged my corset down, the tips of my breasts springing free above my chemise that he shredded seconds later.
Groaning, he dipped his head to suck my nipple into his mouth, returning his hand to my hair with his other, pulling my head back. My throat bared to him, he pulled my body into an arch, and held me there. Lips and tongue teased my nipple, tugging and nipping. A sharp sting left me crying out. His gaze raised to meet mine.
The predator in him stared out at me, undisguised. I cried out again as he shifted his hold to capture both my wrists, pinning them at my back.
“Do not fight me.” The command in his voice was evident.
I nodded, unable to draw in a full breath to answer him.
Something in his eyes flickered as I submitted to his will, giving my body over to his demands. His fingers still tangled in my long hair, I remained in my arch, captive to his needs.
His smile grew as he watched my struggle. The points of my nipples ached. I tilted my shoulders back, shameless in my desire for his mouth on my skin. His breath brushed the breast he tortured, a single flick of his tongue drawing a long sound from my throat.
I strained at his hold, needing to touch him, to drag his mouth to my breast and encourage him to suck, but I had no leverage or strength against his impenetrable grip. His control absolute, I could do nothing but submit to his hold over my body and let him do as he pleased.
And I wanted to submit to him .
Laughing softly at my predicament, Sebastian shifted to feast on my other breast. His kisses and nips left me drowning in a sea of pleasure and pain. I arched deeper against him, aligning my half-exposed body to his, needing the contact. Pleasure built between my thighs, slicing new pathways inside my body to where he sucked on my nipples, alternating and teasing until I crested the wave, my body liquid and easy against his harder form.
A sharp pain hit me, knocking me further into oblivion. Reality spun away from me, coiled in a ribbon of pleasure that went on and on. Sebastian’s voice whispered half-words in my mind, as though he commanded that, too. I swam closer to those sounds, but they shut off as fast, a dreamlike realm where nothing was ever truly attainable.
His hand in my hair tugged me back to reality. I tangled bare legs around his thighs, the hardness of him rigid and urgent against my heat. I didn’t remember removing our clothes, but let him take charge, unable—unwilling—to fight him for dominance. I craved his touch, ached for him between my thighs. He nudged my body, slicking us both in my desire.
“Wider,” he murmured, pausing until I did as he asked.
I sighed my pleasure over and over, sinking deeper against the floor, my hands open at my sides.
“Gella,” he whispered, his voice straining.
I moaned against his shoulder, shifting against his body. Don’t stop. Please, never, ever stop. “What are you?—”
I blinked at the man, the monster before me. His mouth glistened red, twin scarlet trails framing his perfect mouth. The logical part of my brain noted the discrepancy in a dispassionate way, as though I weren’t the reason his mouth was coated with my blood. I made the mistake of looking down at my breast.
Two small puncture marks indented the skin against the dusky pink of my nipple. A thin stream trickled over the swell of my breast. I watched as Sebastian lowered his mouth to my pale skin and lapped at the blood, smearing the scarlet trail across his mouth and me.
Torn between the awareness of my nakedness and the need to cover myself, my mind chose to focus on a growing horror, the understanding in my mind of who— what —my husband was. I wriggled beneath his weight, frantic to move away, to be anywhere else but near him, beneath him.
Don’t. Move.
A whisper in my mind reminded me of the bliss he offered as he sucked at my breast in a twisted parody of mother and child, life giving sustenance. Heat bloomed anew in my belly.
His tongue worked my nipple, pulling and tugging once again until he broke free of my skin with a loud pop. A scream built in my throat as he watched me, too calm, knowing he maintained ultimate control of the situation while I writhed beneath him, helpless.
Prey .
Between my legs, a finger delved into my wet heat and flicked once. I gasped, still pulling away, though my hands tangled themselves around his arms, pulling and pushing away at the same time. The finger flicked a second time, tracing the outline of my nether lips, learning the shape of me.
My cheeks burned as my own desire reflected in his eyes. Then my gaze dropped to his lips, red still staining the skin there. I pressed back into the thick carpet, my hips rising of their own volition to meet his touch.
Desperate to get away from him while my flesh demanded I drew nearer, I gasped again, moaning as his finger slid to the knuckle inside me. Sebastian held me tight, bands of iron arms surrounding my back, preventing me from moving away.
“Please—I have to—” I tore at his arms, my eyes latched to his, as his tongue cleaned the red from his teeth and lips.
My blood .
Rocking my hips against his hand, I watched in fascinated silence, unable to tear my gaze away from the horror caressing my body in such an intimate way.
“Gella,” he said again, his voice thick and rough, reaching around me, pulling me closer as his touch paused, though his finger still filled me. “Don’t fight me, little hellion of a wife.”
Ruby lips hovered over mine, the tip of his tongue flickering out to taste my mouth. I pulled back, but the action was half-hearted, and we both knew it. Heat gushed between my legs, coating his hand in a way I couldn't hide my reaction to his monster, his authority. Something— triumph, victory? —lit his eyes as he dipped his mouth down to mine.
The same lips that dripped with my blood.
His mouth crashed against mine, his other hand sliding down my back, to press me against him, harder onto the demands he made of my body. Fear abandoned sense, giving way to the infatuating need to be closer, melding our bodies together.
I cupped my hands to his cheeks, opening my lips to his kiss as his fingers and tongue dueled for dominance within me. Over me.
Mine.
His voice caressed my mind, and I jerked back, staring. A shadow of implicit knowledge flickered in his face. His eyes held mine, a challenge to defy him written there.
I didn’t.
He slammed his hands into the carpet beside my head, his breath cool against my searing pulse. I rolled to one side, folding my arms around my body. My mind still revolted at the idea of the man I had married while my body craved him like an opium eater deep in his den.
Sebastian grabbed my hands, pressing my wrists to my sides, apart from my body. Holding me in place he knelt back, watching. Longing. My nails imprinted on my palms, the biting pain dousing the edge of my arousal the slightest amount.
His much larger hands pressed over mine, entwining our hands in a hard squeeze. “Don’t hurt yourself,” he murmured, uncurling my fingers in one hand and kissing each one, and then doing the same to the other hand before he pinned my wrists where they had been. This time, I let him. “Gella, you’re beautiful. So, so beautiful.” His body settled over mine, every inch of him finding a place against me.
If I hurt you, I beg my forgiveness with pleasure.
His mouth descended on mine as he worked his way between my hips and thrust forward.
Stars exploded behind my eyes. Not the pleasurable sort, but a deep tear centered around where he pushed his length inside me. I whimpered against his perfect, arched lips.
His tongue speared inside my mouth, and I tasted my own blood. “I promised you pleasure with pain, Gella,” he murmured.
The ache remained as he thrust all the way inside me. His breath left mine and I inhaled until sharp points pierced my throat, and my world exploded again. Pure bliss filled my body, overwhelmed my mind. My hips undulated as he began to move within me, smooth, slow strokes that matched the gentle rhythmic suck at my pulse.
I arched and curled around him, as he released me, trailing my hands over his back, his shoulders. His hips moved against mine, smooth movements turning rough. Teeth grazed my throat, sharp strings against my skin over and over again until I gushed hot and liquid in his arms. I cried out, tangling my hands in his hair.
Somewhere in the depths of my mind, he growled a low possessive sound.
You’ll always be mine, Gella.