Entwined by Kristen Callihan Page A

again, and his tight body vibrated. He might have done this the easy way, but physical labor was better. Better than gritting his teeth and picturing himself slamming into Lu’s tight, wet…
    “Bollocks!” He tossed the hammer down, where it bounced with a loud clatter. Leaning his weight on his forearms, Eamon hunched over his anvil. The steel was cooling wrong and would be ruined. Cursing again, he picked it up with his bare hand, and the hot metal hissed against his skin. As ever, there was no pain, no burning of his flesh.
    The piece appeared very close to what a radius bone ought to be, save for the tip. That would take hours of finessing with his tools. Right now, he was impatient. Eamon walked over to the cleaned radius bone lying upon the work counter. Peering closely at it, he let his grip cover the steel. It was hot and smooth against his palm as he moved. Closing his eyes, he thought of the design and willed the steel to reshape.
    Power, pure and clean and thrilling, coursed through his veins. The metal seemed to sigh, sing a song in his head: Make of me what you will. Beneath his grip the steel moved, writhing, changing. Eamon shuddered, the feeling so close to what he’d felt when he’d come inside Lu that his cock stirred.
    Double bollocks.
    He took a calming breath and opened his hands. A perfect steel replica of the radius bone lay there. Really, it felt like cheating using his power, but satisfaction lit within him just the same. He put the cooled section on the table and picked up the piece he’d created earlier.
    Running the length of his palm and reaching five inches in height, it was a small figure of a horse and rider. The little rider sat astride but her long hair stretched out behind her like a banner in the wind.
    Gently he touched the tiny face of the rider. Lu. Would she like it?
    His fingers curled around the horse, as his breath grew short. He would soon know, for he was going to give it to her at dinner—and then tell her everything.

Chapter Twelve
    Eamon dressed carefully, like a man going to face the firing squad. There ought to be some dignity in baring one’s darkest deed to his victim. His hand shook only a little as he wound the white cravat around his neck. His shoulders only tensed slightly as George helped him into the tight-fitting dinner jacket of midnight blue.
    And his knees didn’t wobble at all as he went down the stairs and entered the dining room, where she waited. Why she felt the need to go on ahead of him, he did not know. Nor could he ask when he finally laid eyes upon her.
    She would always be the brightest star in the room. Candlelight made her skin glow like the finest alabaster. The plump swells of her breasts all but spilled over the tight clasp of her violet bodice, and Eamon’s mouth went dry. He wanted to lick a path over those soft, little hills.
    Clearing his throat, he came closer, and her dark eyes shone like polished onyx as they studied him. Heat flushed up his neck. She looked at him as if he were a tasty meal, and as if she was about to enjoy it.
    “Lu.” He made a small bow. “Are you well this evening?” God, could he say anything less benign?
    The sweet curve of her pink lips tilted with a small smile. “Quite. Husband.”
    The word slashed like a lance, and Eamon peered more closely. She was holding herself too tight. Guilt swamped him anew. He’d been neglecting her. And she was angry.
    He moved to take his customary seat when he realized that she’d placed his setting at the opposite end of the table. Frowning, he held her seat for her before retreating all the way down to the other end.
    “Let me move my plate,” he began, picking up the china. “I’d rather sit closer to you.”
    “No.” She smiled tightly. “Leave it be. I’d rather you sit there so that I may look at you.”
    Eamon didn’t see how him being ten feet away was any better than being right next to her, but as he’d rather her be in an amicable mood, he sat.