“No,” he ground out, taking her by the wrist. She gasped, just a little, a sound only he could hear, her magic heating and bowing in submission. His own magic, that greedy, fearsome beast in him, leapt in ferocious glee at her response. “I have need of you.”

“I’ll take care of this,” Asa offered. “Laryn and I can, as we’re under contract. Might as well start delegating to the minions,” he added cheerfully, but there was a note of wariness in his voice.

“Thank you, Wizard Asa.” Nic kept her gaze on Gabriel, watching him like a beast about to attack. “Shall we, Lord Phel?”

Without a word, he turned and strode out of the room, nearly dragging Nic with him. He didn’t care what any of them thought. He wanted out of that cloying room, away from those shocked and staring gazes. I don’t even recognize him. All I see is a monster. His mother was right to loathe him.

“Gabriel!” Nic hissed, and not for the first time, he realized, as she uncharacteristically resisted his pull.

He wheeled around, glaring at her. “Now is when you decide is a good time to cross me?” he demanded in a hoarse, whispered shout. “After all your talk of—”

“No!” She laid her free hand on the bare skin just below the hollow of this throat, where his shirt parted. Her magic swam into him, calming rose, soothing like a draught of fine red wine. “Never,” she averred, holding his gaze. “Drop the spikes, or they’ll be too afraid to move.”

He gazed at her for a long moment, uncomprehending. The spikes?

“Circling the air above the dining table,” she reminded him, as if it were the most normal thing in the world, “like a pair of hawks eyeing their prey below.”

Ah. Right. He hadn’t even realized he was still feeding their flight. With a thought, he dropped them, their clatter on some dishes followed by a small scream of dismay, quickly silenced. “Anything else?” he gritted out.

“No.” She smiled, curling her nails against his skin. “Take me wherever you need me to be.”

The beast in him leapt, salivating, and he swept her into his arms, ignoring her startled squeak. He wanted to devour her right there in the hall, uncaring who saw. The predator can have no mercy in its heart for the prey, Nic had once told him, and he’d been appalled. But that had been his better self, and that fellow seemed to have disappeared somewhere in the incandescence of his rage and need. Still, part of him remembered that he shouldn’t drain her magic as he craved to do. But he would have everything else of her. Because their bedroom was too far away, he turned the other direction to the library, making it there in several long strides.

Fortunately the door stood open, and he kicked it closed. “Lock it,” he ordered Nic, moving to set her down.

But she wound her arms behind his neck, her green gaze as feral as he felt. “Do it yourself, wizard.”