Luxurious warmth licked along my back as Andre entered his room, and we drew closer to a fireplace.
Andre rounded a large four-poster bed not so different from the one at Bishopcourt. He laid me down on it, rearing back long enough to gaze yearningly at my body. I watched the flickering firelight dance over him. Right now he looked like a creature of the night. A very, very sexy one.
His eyes traveled to my face, and when they did, affection mingled with lust, the emotion moving across his face and shining in his eyes. “What good deed did I possibly do to deserve you?”
“Good deed?” I asked skeptically. “You think a good deed brought you me? I’m probably punishment for all the bad you’ve done. You got cursed with me.”
A smile curled the edges of his lips. “You’re probably right—you are awfully surly,” he admitted. I swatted his arm and he grinned. As he stared at me, it melted away. “But I will be thanking fate till the end of my days for bringing me such a wonderful curse.”
At the mention of fate, I felt a chill rise from within me that had nothing to do with the storm outside. The devil had also mentioned fate this evening. Don’t think about it.
Ever so slowly, Andre draped his body over mine so that I felt each point of contact as skin met skin.
I gazed up at the face of my soulmate, the king of the vampires. Loose tendrils of his hair hung down, and I laughed as water droplets slid down them and hit my skin.
He looked at me reverently, heat entering his gaze as we stared at each other. “Be mine forever, Gabrielle.”
“I already am,” I breathed.
His weight settled heavily against me, and I stroked a thumb from the nape of his neck down the length of his back.
Andre showered kisses down my face and moved against me. Despite the remaining clothes, I felt the movement everywhere. I threw my head back, closing my eyes.
“All that is holy,” I said, breathless, “you obviously know what you’re doing.” Sometime during Andre’s 700 years of life, he’d learned exactly how to undo a woman.
Andre nuzzled my neck and brushed a kiss along it. “I’m glad I can give you this.” Again he moved against me, and again I felt my body’s sensual reaction everywhere.
In my other ear, I felt the breath of another mouth. No, consort.
I stilled.
Andre drew back, his brow creased. “Are we moving too fast?”
I shook my head furiously. “No,” I said—practically pleaded. But inside I was beginning to freak out. Had the devil just interrupted us?
Andre eyed me cautiously. “Perhaps we should slow down …” he said. I could feel him retreating.
Screw this. I wrapped a hand around the back of Andre’s neck and pulled him to me. There was nothing sweet about the kiss I gave him; it was demanding, lustful. I moved against him as his tongue swept through my mouth. He groaned and gave in, his hands running down the length of me.
Consort, stop. The devil’s voice tickled the skin of my ear, and I stiffened, breaking off the kiss.
Above me Andre paused. “Gabrielle … ?”
Our eyes met, and I swallowed. He caressed the side of my face. “What is it?”
You are mine and mine alone.
I flinched at the voice.
“Gabrielle,” Andre said more insistently.
I winced as I spoke. “It’s the devil. He’s demanding that we stop.”
Andre cursed. “He does not get a say in the matter.”
Oh yes I do. You are mine, consort. Not his.
“I am no one’s,” I said out loud.
Anger and confusion replaced lust on Andre’s face. “The bastard’s still talking to you, isn’t he?”
I really wanted to punch the devil in the face. Instead I rubbed my ear. “Yeah, he is.”
“What’s he saying?”
“Essentially, that you can’t have sex with me.”
Andre’s features went carefully neutral, which meant he was getting well and truly pissed. “And why is that?”
I couldn’t look at him when I spoke. “I think he wants to save me for himself.” My skin crawled and my stomach rolled at the thought. I couldn’t bear his touch, so I definitely couldn’t imagine doing that with him. The devil wanting a bride, that was the thing nightmares were created of.
“He doesn’t get to have you,” Andre said vehemently.
Ah, yes, this delicious subject. I swallowed. “Andre, there’s something I haven’t told you,” I stared at the crimson comforter.
“What is it?” Andre asked, his voice lethally calm—this was when Andre was his most dangerous.
I closed my eyes and replayed the end of my visit with the devil. Those parting words, the sureness in the devil’s voice.
“Gabrielle?”
My eyes opened, and I focused on Andre’s dark gaze. “The devil told me that he and I were fated to be together.”
Andre thinned his eyes, gave me a sly, disbelieving look, then tipped his head back and laughed. I wondered how many people had died to that terrible sound, because there was no humor in it. But there was plenty of wickedness. “Is he mad?” Andre asked.
“Most definitely.” When it came to the devil, that was a given.
“We are soulmates,” he said.
“Yes.” I knew that for certain.
“He is known as a trickster for a reason,” he said. “He lies.”
I watched the firelight flicker across Andre’s face. “That, or fate doubled dipped.”
Chapter 20
The next morning I stared out the window of Andre’s study, watching the way the wind whipped small flakes of snow against the mansion.
Fated to two men. Clearly the Fates couldn’t agree on what was to become of me. At the moment, I despised all of them; they made it seem as though my sole destiny was to be with some dude.