Primal Pleasure: Pendragon Gargoyles, Book 3 by Sydney Somers Page A

going anywhere until you undo this.” He motioned to the space between them like there was literally something binding them together.
    Thinking about what Elena had said, she shook her head. “You think those kinds of castings can be done anywhere?” She didn’t mention she wouldn’t be doing any of them.
    His eyes narrowed briefly. Too bad the suspicious look he threw at her didn’t make him any less sexy. His ruined shirt wasn’t helping either with all those fine abdominal muscles on display.
    “Are you trying to get me alone, sorceress?”
    “I’m trying to give you what you want. Unless you’ve changed your mind.”
    He closed the gap between them, and her attention slipped to his mouth before she could stop herself. “How do I know I can trust you?”
    “You don’t, but what other choice do you have?”
    “Aside from locking you up and throwing away the key?”
    “Yeah, because that worked so well for you the first time.”
    He smiled, but the feral edge to it warned her that the cat was still very close to the surface.
    She turned away, half surprised he made no move to stop her, but the second her back was turned, he jerked her against him.
    “One more thing.” His lips brushed her ear, and she called on every molecule of self-preservation she possessed to ignore the heat that seeped into her back. “You owe me a new shirt.”
    She owed him more than that, or Elena did anyway. Nodding, she stepped away from him the moment he released her.
    Leah’s loft was only a few blocks from the Strip, but walking next to Cian, feeling his gaze burning into her the whole way, made it feel more like half a continent away.
    “You count cards.”
    Startled after walking for so long in silence, she only nodded. She couldn’t see the point in lying about it. After today they wouldn’t be crossing paths. At least she intended to do everything possible to avoid him in the future.
    “Why not magic?”
    She shrugged. “I’m good with numbers.” Better than she was with magic, as evidenced by the shredded shirt he wore.
    He gave her that look again, like she didn’t make sense to him. He gestured to her jacket. “Why are you wearing that?”
    “I have a fondness for outerwear?”
    “It’s hot and sunny and you are dressed for a crisp autumn night.”
    “It’s comfortable.” And it wasn’t the heat from the sun that was threatening to set her skin on fire. Every time he looked at her, as if remembering the feel of her beneath his mouth, another nerve ending went up in flames.
    “Then what did the Fae mean when he said he knew why you wore it?”
    “I have a scar.” It wasn’t a lie, but the scar that crisscrossed the ivy tracing that ran the length of her spine didn’t make her feel half as self-conscious as knowing other immortals could assess her strength with a single glance.
    Cian planted himself in her path. “Someone hurt you?”
    She knew her sister’s spell was to blame for the possessive anger in his voice, but for a moment she pretended he really meant it. No one but Leah and Elena had ever been protective of her, and thinking of the cat ready to do the guilty party damage touched a place deep inside her.
    Not real, she finally reminded herself. “It was just a childhood prank gone wrong.” That’s what her father had insisted even though the ten-year-old sorceress responsible had damn well meant it.
    The weak deserve to be put down. Two centuries later and the bitch’s words still echoed in Emma’s head.
    He caught her hand, the tenderness in his eyes stopping her dead in her tracks. “For such a powerful sorceress, you don’t hide your pain very well.”
    Her throat grew tight, but before she could imagine what it would be like to have him soothe those old hurts, she ducked around him. “Careful, Sylvester. You’re already too attached to me as it is.”
    “Sylvester?”
    “You know. Bugs Bunny. Daffy Duck. Sylvester.” Maybe he hadn’t spent enough time watching television