Beyond Temptation

CHAPTER THIRTEEN



The moment she walked through the door, he knew.



Malec had sensed her approach and run to the foyer to greet her with the exuberance of a stripling with his first love. As Taylor opened the door to admit her, Malec had felt the other male’s presence with lightning force.



“Who is he?” Possessive anger seared him, skidding along nerve endings like acid. “The man you spent the evening with before?”



Avery’s face went pale, then her cheeks flushed. “Have you spied on me?”



Realizing he’d allowed reckless emotion to compromise him, he forced himself to cool. All the same, his blood teeth ached and threatened to lower. “I don’t need to spy to see the mark of unfulfilled desire, ma fetishe.”



She averted her face, toying with her coat zipper. “Maybe this is a bad idea.”



He did not want her to leave.



Malec strode forward and caught her hands in his. “Avery, look at me.” Her big blue eyes held a wealth of uncertainty and trepidation. His throat tightened and he cursed his susceptibility. “My charm fails with you.” He heard his next words as if removed from the situation. “Forgive me. Stay.”



She lowered her gaze and nodded. “Okay.”



“Thank you. Allow me.” As he helped her from her coat, he almost shook his head. His mouth ran away with him. Something about this woman moved him. Handing the garment to Taylor, Malec asked, “Are you hungry?”



She replied, “Starved.”



He held out his hand. “Come with me.”



She reached out, pulled back, then placed her much smaller hand in his.



He escorted her to the library, anticipating her reaction. Avery gasped and then pulled free to inspect books.



“You have carte blanche with any of them.” Malec studied her as she ran her hands over the tomes. It made him jealous all over again. Had she touched the faceless human man like that? It tempted him greatly to get into her head and pull the memories to see exactly what she had done. Malec again reined in his temper. “May I get you wine?”



“Yes, please.”



“Chardonnay or Merlot?” He walked to the sideboard placed in here just for tonight.



“Merlot, please.” She gave a feminine cry of delight as she rounded the first row of shelves and evidently spotted the climate controlled cases. “Omigod. Is this an original Chaucer?”



“Yes.” Malec remembered buying it. At the time, Chaucer’s messages about society had met with considerable censure from certain sects. Pouring the wine into a long-stemmed glass, he swirled it, checking the legs and then the nose. It had both in high quality. Malec splashed a small amount in a second glass and tasted it. Satisfied with the palate as well, he set aside his goblet and carried Avery’s to her.



“How did you find it,” she asked breathlessly.



“When I want something,” he replied, holding out the vessel of wine, “I always find a way to have it.”



She blushed and accepted the Merlot. “I see you have a collection of Bibles as well. I’m by far not an expert, but they look very old. First edition Dickens and Poe, as well.”



“Shall I open the case for you?” He watched her sip the wine, noted the subtle signals of pleasure.



“The thought of touching them scares the hell out of me. So much age makes things fragile.”



The time would come for me to reveal his true nature to her. Perhaps then she would change her mind. “Some things grow stronger. Better. Like that wine.”



She tilted her head a fraction, studying him. “How old are you?”



“What’s your best guess.” He had become quite good at fielding questions.



Avery fidgeted a bit with her glass, holding it by the stem with one hand and twisting it with the other. “Maybe thirty-five or six. But, you have this worldly quality, a patina about you most people don’t get until later in life.”



He gave the closest approximation of the truth, how many years he had aged as a human. “Thirty-four.”



“You seem so much older than me.” Avery flushed. “That came out wrong.”



He chuckled. “It’s the difference in experience.” He heard staff arrive with appetizers. “Shall I get you a plate? You may take your first course among the books.”



She nodded, attention returning to the cases. “Please.”



Malec started to direct a servant, then dismissed them until the second course. He filled her plate himself with selections he’d pre-approved: sea bass in phyllo, truffle pâté on water crackers, baby cucumber salad on thin sliced miniature dill bread.



Avery bent over staring at one of the Bibles he had brought back from Jerusalem. The trousers she wore snugged to her heart-shaped bottom in a mouth-watering manner. “Here, ma fetishe.”



She took the plate and tucked into the finger food with undisguised greed.



During the meal, he watched her. At the conclusion, Malec pulled back her chair. Avery rose. He shoved aside the piece of furniture. On fire, he ran his hands down her sides.



“I know your secrets, Avery.”



His hands roamed over her hipbones and thighs, then back up over her belly. He lifted her top. A soft pad of flesh surrounded her navel. His fingers dipped inside just above the waistband of her pants.



Avery leaned back. The glass of merlot dropped to the floor. Her hands came back above her head. Malec purred as her fingers combed his loose hair.



“I dream of you.” He ran his hands down her thighs, then back up and to the waist of her pants. Slowly, he dipped one hand inside. She shivered. Malec slid his appreciative hand down the slope of her belly. “I know your secrets, your fears.”



He sank his fingers into her hot quim.



Avery cried out. Malec gripped his cock with his free hand.



“Climax for me,” he said.



He brought her to peak. He jerked himself to orgasm as well.



Avery shuddered. “I should get to bed.”



Malec chuckled again. “I agree”





Avery rose early. She showered, slathered with lotion and dressed. When she dressed, she coiled up her hair. Last night staff had handled her baggage. This morning, she wanted to explore. Avery decided to return to the stable.



An attendant exited as she approached. Avery watched as the other equine inhabitants moved restlessly in their stalls.



Fear caused the nape of her neck to prickle as she walked down the aisle. Avery wondered why the stall had solid bars. It concerned her no light shone at that end of the stable.



The scents of horse, clean straw and oiled leather dominated.



All the same, terror laced icy tentacles through her. She hesitated.



Like an idiot, she hedged, “Hello?”



Movement.



Darkness swept between the wood and steel.



She gasped.



Human eyes in a horse’s face met hers.



Avery screamed.