Chapter Sixteen
Violet stood in the center of the corridor in her borrowed night dress, candle in her hand, its light throwing long, uncertain shadows along the walls.
Absurd.
She did not even know which chamber was his. Should that obstacle have stopped her?
Yes, yes, and yes.
Reason, however, did not prevail. Indeed, the more she attempted it, the more something inside her tightened, restless and resistant, as though her body had already decided and merely waited for her mind to catch up.
Her mind still attempted to reach for justification.
Had he not once said something about keeping unpredictable variables close?
Attached to a hip? It was a perfectly good reason to seek him out in the middle of the night.
Right? Right.
The man could be argued to be an unpredictable variable. Violet would very much prefer him to become a more predictable one. She took a step forward. Then another.
How did one choose?
She thought she’d paid attention to which one his brothers took him to, but the corridor seemed longer now, the doors more numerous, each one alike in its refusal to declare itself his.
Her gaze flicked between all the doors, allowing instinct to take the reins. Some she dismissed without question, while two tugged at her attention for no reason she could name at all. Foolish. Entirely.
Just pick one!
Drat it. She stepped up to a door, lifted her hand and prepared to knock, and let her hand fall again.
What if she got it wrong? She should have a reason ready if someone else opened the door. What if the door didn’t open? Did she just knock on the next one?
The door behind her opened.
She tensed, glancing over her shoulder.
Drake filled the doorway.
Their gazes met, and the corridor, the candle, the very air between them seemed to charge with provocation.
“Do you need something?”
Her breath caught. “Yes.” You.
His eyes seemed to darken. Had he read her thoughts?
Heat rushed to her face. What compelled her to say that single word with such a breathless tone, she could not say, but it had rolled off her tongue as though it had waited for this very moment to be released.
Fortunately, the second word had only followed in her head!
“You’re not returning home tonight.”
She stared at him without blinking. “How did you arrive at the conclusion that’s what I wanted?”
“Why else would you be looking for me?”
Why else indeed. She crossed her arms. “Am I standing before your door?” Lifting her chin, she added, “And who says I’m looking for you?”
His eyes narrowed dangerously. “Then you are looking for Serpent? Clad like that?”
She stilled, then inwardly uttered a curse on the man. Very well, she’d been very wrong. Could she admit that now? Absolutely not. “Why not?” she challenged.
“Why?” he challenged back.
Obnoxious man. She had no answer to that. “I—”
He cut her off by stepping up, closing his hand around her wrist, and drawing her into his chamber, kicking the door shut behind them. “Why are you looking for me, little liar?”
Violet’s gaze swept the room, taking in his space, inhaling his presence. His coat lay slung carelessly over the back of a chair. The bedding was rumpled, and flashes of their time in his dungeon rose unbidden in her mind. No bloody rags. No trace of blood lingering in the air.
Only Drake.
Pure Drake.
The chamber was not all that different from hers, save for the small signs of habitation.
A book lay open upon the table, turned facedown.
A closed ledger rested in the corner, a quill beside it, and half a bottle of cognac nearby.
His boots stood abandoned at the chair’s feet.
It struck Violet as far too normal for a man such as him.
She’d half expected weapons to line the walls and be scattered across the desk.
How unexpected.
She glanced back at him, her gaze dropping to his bare feet first, strong feet, drifting up his legs, powerful legs, to his very bare chest, imposing chest, wrapped only in white bandages before meeting his flat, but somehow hot, and formidable, stare.
Her gaze ran over the equally formidable scar.
She had the urge to trace it with the tip of her finger.
You are losing it, Violet.
Yes, yes she was.
Ah, yes. He’d asked her a question.
Violet suddenly doubted her purpose. Her instincts.
They’d brought her to the wrong door after all.
Should she have sought him out? Have allowed her impulses to rule?
For all his maddeningly handsome flesh, it seemed rather impulsive now that he was before her.
However, before sense could claim dominion over her actions, her body acted faster.
Violet seized his shoulders and rose to the tips of her toes.
She couldn’t quite reach his mouth, not without him bending his head, but she could reach his chin.
Her lips grazed the rough stubble there, the contact sparking something impatient inside her, venting into a firm bite.
A curse blew over her face, his eyes blazing into hers. “Still wish to knock on Serpent’s door? Speak now.”
“I was half correct.” That counted for something in her book. “I merely got my left or right wrong.”
His answer was to slide his hands to the mounds of her buttocks, something he loved to do, and in a single, effortless motion, he lifted her clear off the floor and carried her toward the bed.
“Your wound,” she began but let the words trail off. Did the injury even bear mentioning at this point? He wouldn’t stop because of it, and she wouldn’t stop him from not stopping.
“It’s fine,” he said roughly.
Case in point.
“Don’t think me weak because of it.”
“I would never.”
“Don’t believe I am of no danger to you. I am.”
“I’d never believe such an absurd thing.”
His head buried in her neck as he laid her down, his tongue licking up and down her neck before finding her collarbone, grazing his teeth over the spot he’d nipped before.
This was what she’d wanted. His lips on her.
His body against hers. Touching her. Possessing her.
Owning her in a way no one had ever before, she’d never allowed before.
This was about opening a part of herself to a man of her choosing, a man who would take what was offered, and give no less than he claimed.
This was what she desired.
A lover.
Was she truly considering this? It’s already considered. Everybody had someone. A husband. A wife. Loyal family. She wanted someone, too.
Sensation closed in on her from every side.
“Drake . . .”
He pulled back, eyes sparking dangerously. “You came to me and destroyed any limits and good intentions I’ve set.” His eyes seemed to darken. “Are you prepared for me?”
Blazes. This man had misunderstood completely.
However, now that he’d brought it up, should she confess her true identity before they crossed the final line?
Could she keep the secret forever? If they became lovers, were these the sorts of things lovers confessed?
She parted her lips to tell him, but the words wouldn’t form.
She reached out to trace his scar with the tip of her finger.
Would he shun her if she told her? Toss her into his barren dungeon?
No, she couldn’t tell him. Not yet. She wanted to be selfish first. Leaving London had been her first act for herself. This was the second. She refused to let it slip through her fingers. She’d find a way to impart the truth later.
“Prepared,” she breathed, lips curving into a smile at his soft exhale.
His hands slid to her calves and began their unhurried ascent.
The fabric of her shift gathered beneath his fingers as he drew it upward inch by maddening inch, his knuckles grazing skin that had never before been so deliberately taunted.
Was he torturing her with his slowness? His next words proved affirmative.
“I cannot believe,” he murmured, voice deep and disapproving in a way that made her pulse skitter, “that you left your chamber wearing only this.”
She swallowed as the hem reached her knees. “I was not thinking about what I wore.”
“That’s not good, Violet. Don’t ever leave your room again looking like this.”
Her whole body flamed up at the way he said your room. “Then you should just keep me in yours.”
“That,” he said, sliding the fabric higher, baring more of her leg, “is not a wise thing to say to me, Violet.”
Lord.
The hand on her hip paused, followed by a chuckle. “Careful when you provoke the brute. I want this off.”
Her hands mapped his chest, struck by the urge to attach her hands to those hard planes forever. “Then what’s stopping you?”
“Lift up,” he growled, and he drew the shift up and over her head, unhurried and thorough, leaving her bare beneath him.
She had never felt so bare, nor so achingly alive.
A curse blew from his lips as he settled back on his knees and raked his gaze over every inch of her. “I have been imagining you naked since you locked me in my dungeon.”
Violet lifted her chin, allowing him to take her in, eyes dropping to where his hand cupped himself over his trousers. “Then you have had ample time to imagine what comes next.” How audacious, Vi!
“I have.” The grin that followed was unmistakably wicked. “And more.”
And more . . . “Bold talk for a man three breaths from collapsing again.”
“That won’t happen again, love. I mean to possess every inch of you before the candles burn out.”
He undid the buttons of his trousers and shoved them down his hips, one hand closing around his member. Violet didn’t know where to look, so she just looked there, since she certainly couldn’t look away from the sight!
“Look at me. I want you to see what you’ve done.”
She reached out and touched its tip, eliciting a curse from him.
“Let’s not have a repeat of earlier.”
She dragged her gaze up his body to meet his eyes. “Oh? And what was that?”
“I’d rather not relive the moment.”
“Then let’s make a new one.”
He kicked off his trousers as he lowered himself onto her until his chest brushed hers and his nose touched hers. “You chose this. You chose me.”