I rubbed my eyes. “Andre I want to see your place, but I have to get back.”
“You misunderstand,” he said, reaching out and tucking a lock of hair behind my ear. “I’m asking you to stay here.”
I drew back and searched his features. “You’re not asking me anything,” I stated. This wasn’t a request. This was a coup.
His expression turned protective. “Please, Gabrielle, go along with this. I can’t have my coven snatching you again while I’m unaware.”
“Andre—”
“You have to trust me that I know my people.”
“How about instead of trust, you keep me informed?” I asked.
He palmed the side of my face. “You’re a teenager Gabrielle, and you are the love of my life. I want you to be safe, happy, carefree. I want to keep the darkness that surrounds us both at bay as much as possible. You deserve that.”
Damn him. When he put it like that, it was hard to feel indignant. And boy did I want to feel indignant.
“But Andre, I have a case to solve, and my friends—”
“Arrangements have already been made.”
I opened my mouth and closed it. “What?” I finally said.
“Someone will be bringing your things and your friends as soon as the storm lets up.”
I pushed my hands through my hair. What he said made sense, so why did this bother me so much?
Because you’re being treated like a precious flower. A delicate, fragile flower that’s easily crushed.
“No,” said, making up my mind.
Andre’s eyes flashed. “Gabrielle …”
“Take me back to the inn.”
Andre’s eyes slitted. “No.”
“Yes,” I said, staring him down.
“Arguing is not going to change my mind.”
I knew it wasn’t, and I didn’t want to waste the effort on arguing when I had glamour.
My skin began to glow, and I opened my mouth. “Andre, take me—”
Before I could finish the order, Andre leaned across the consul, tipped my chin back, and kissed me roughly.
The siren practically squealed with pleasure. Damn her. I moaned against Andre’s lips as my skin flared. Encouraged, he cradled the back of my head and deepened the kiss. I felt his tongue brush against mine, and warmth spread throughout my stomach.
He broke away and, lust drunk, I didn’t realize he’d left the car until he was opening my door and pulling me out. I touched my tender lips, dazed. But just as the siren in me began to ebb away, Andre removed my hand from my mouth and resumed the kiss.
He picked me up and, lost in him, I wrapped my legs around his waist as he carried me. I threaded my fingers through his hair and drew away long enough to drink in his beauty.
Dark, expressive eyes stared back at me, and right now they looked … remorseful. Using my thumb I touched the skin at the corner of one of his eyes. “Why do you look so sad?” I asked. My voice no longer sounded like my own. The rich melody that came out of my mouth was pitched both lower and higher. It had layers to it; it made words music.
He swallowed. “Don’t concern yourself, soulmate,” he said, his words laced with regret.
My eyes moved between his. “But I want to.” I ran my tongue over my fangs. I hadn’t noticed them drop down, but now that I did, my gaze dropped to his neck. No pulse stirred, but I knew blood lay beneath, and that excited me.
He sighed. “I cannot win. I do not know how,” he said.
I kissed his cheek. “Win what?” I asked. The siren shrank away some as worry replaced lust.
“A battle involving you and fate,” Andre said, moving us down a hall.
I frowned. He wasn’t usually so cryptic.
Andre brushed his palm against my temple. “Instead I help fate along and push you away.”
My brows pinched down. This talk was killing my lusty buzz. Making a small noise, I pressed my lips to Andre’s and moved against him. I smiled against his mouth as I felt his grip tighten and his body tense. And then we were lost in the kiss once more. At the back of my mind I knew I was forgetting something important.
He pressed me against the wall, and I practically purred with pleasure.
Andre broke off the kiss and bowed his head. “I can’t do this.” He sounded defeated.
Why were we talking again?
I ran a hand through his hair, and he turned his cheek into it, kissing my palm. “Damnit,” he whispered, “I really can’t do this.”
Reluctantly he extricated himself from my embrace. I wanted to cry out. “Why—?” I began.
He pressed a chaste kiss to my lips. “I’m … sorry. For not listening to you earlier.”
I cocked my head as he took my hand and led me through the house—his house. “What are you talking about?”
“I order people around for a living,” he said. “Getting my way has become a habit.”
I blinked a few times, that niggling thought finally coming to me. “Did you just … manipulate me into staying with you?”
“I tried.”
Hurt and betrayal bubbled up. “How could you?”
He gave me a pained look. “I couldn’t. Not in the end.”
And he didn’t. I’d give him that. But now I was pissed that I’d been played so easily. “Take me back,” I whispered.
Andre’s jaw worked, but he nodded.
As we got in the car and began the drive back, a thousand thoughts swirled through me. First I pieced together Andre’s plan—distract me and get me inside his house. Anger and betrayal flared hot within me at this, but as my mind drifted, less welcome thoughts entered.
Like the fact that I’d been about to use glamour to force Andre to take me back to the inn. Technically I’d been just as willing to manipulate him as he had been me. Only he’d stopped himself. I doubted that I would’ve. And I doubted I would’ve felt remorseful afterwards. Did that make me the worse of the two of us?