“Six months for every married man she had tried to seduce, and a year for every one she had successfully seduced.”

“Can . . . can you do that?”

“The spell is already in place.”

She looked stunned. “Mother Night.”

He stepped closer. Slipped a finger under a strap of that whatever she was wearing.

“I don’t want to talk about Vulchera anymore,” he crooned. “I don’t want to think about her. Not her.”

He knew his eyes were glazed, knew which side of himself wanted to play.

And so did Jaenelle.

“Stay with me tonight,” the Sadist purred. “Here. In this room. Let me play with you.”

“What . . . wh-what does that mean?”

The stutter pleased him. So did the nerves.

“Leave this on. I find it intriguing. With it, I want you to wear one of my shirts and those sheer white stockings. Nothing else.”

She made a small sound. Might have been a whimper.

“I’m going to plump up the pillows and make myself comfortable. You’re going to straddle me. Sheathe me. And then, my darling, I am going to make you stay perfectly still. I’m not going to let you touch me in any way except to give me sweet kisses while I enjoy touching you. I’m going to play with you, lover. I promise I’ll be very, very gentle, and by the time I’m through, I’ll make you very, very happy.”

Her eyes were glassy, and she looked dazed by the force of sexual heat now surrounding her.

“Why don’t you go into the bathroom and get ready?” he said, taking a step back.

He hardly dared to breathe until she closed the bathroom door.

He wanted her desperately at that moment, but he knew what he was asking, knew what he was going to do. He had to give her enough time to think clearly and decide if she was willing to play.

He took off his shoes and socks, removed his belt. He pulled back the covers, plumped the pillows into a mound, and reclined against them, waiting.

The Sadist as lover.

Oh, yes. He wanted to play.

When she came out of the bathroom dressed exactly as he’d requested, he knew in a way he hadn’t before that there was no part of him she feared—and that was the most arousing thing about her.

He was pleasure and trust—even as the Sadist.

When she climbed onto the bed and straddled him, he caught the scents of nerves and excitement. By the time he allowed her to sheathe him, she whimpered out of need.

And hours later, while he watched her sleep, he knew he had made her very, very happy.

CHAPTER 22 - TERREILLE

CHAPTER 22

TERREILLE

Theran walked out on the terrace and crouched beside Gray and the honey pear pots.

“Anything poking out of the dirt yet?” he asked, even though he could see perfectly well there were no seedlings.