Page 27 of You Only Love Twice
A shocking thought occurred.
She stroked his hand again, and there it was. The flinch. A faint softening of his grip.
It took her breath.
Because she wasn't the only one trapped by need.
By the past.
She couldn't still the rush of thoughts through her head. She couldn't outrun him. Couldn't outfight him. But maybe she didn't need to?
Gemma's thighs locked around his narrow hips, and suddenly she could feel every inch of him pressed against her inner thigh.
"You can't kill me," she whispered. "Can you?"
Obsidian shoved away from her, driving the flat of his hand against his brow as if his head ached. He held the knife clenched in his fist and shot her a look of raw fury.
Slowly, she pushed upright from the table and slipped off its surface.
"I ought to," he said coldly. "I want to."
"What the hell does that mean?"
"You are mine," he breathed, his hair falling across his face. Every inch of his chest expanded, as if he fought to control some raging beast inside. "That's all you need to know right now."
Sheathing the knife, he turned and strode toward her.
Gemma backed away, tripping over the lip of the rug, but this time she knew trying to escape was pointless.
Obsidian hauled her over his shoulder, and she didn't fight him—didn't resist—as he turned toward the staircase, and her makeshift cell.
Because she knew she was never going to be able to escape him using force.
But maybe she didn't have to?
Chapter 8
Obsidian found a lantern and a hessian sack, and hauled both of them up the stairs with her. The light hurt her eyes as he set her down inside the cell, but Gemma took the chance to study his face.
She didn't know what was going through his mind.
This man....
She didn't know this man.
There was no sign of the Dmitri she'd fallen in love with, the one with his gentle hands and the heated look in his eyes when he glanced at her. Obsidian, he'd called himself, and she realized then the man she'd loved had vanished.
Feeling bruised on the inside, Gemma forced her shoulders to square as this devilish stranger set the lantern aside and dragged the hessian sack forward with a clank. If he thought for one minute he was going to defeat her, then he really didn't know her that well. He might have taken all her knives—all her weapons—but he couldn't take her most dangerous ones.
And she'd already proven he wasn't invulnerable to her most precious asset: her sexuality.
"How did you get out?" He examined the lock before turning those dangerous eyes upon her.
"Magic."
Eyes narrowing, he swung the gate shut behind him. "Where is it?"
"Where is what?"
