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  "Good girl. You might quite a picture. Helpless. Your breasts are thrust up, waiting for my mouth. Spread your legs for me, like you did before."

  Rowena widened her legs and bent them at the knee, so he could see all of her. It aroused both of them. Rowena never knew she was a closet exhibitionist. Or maybe it gave her a sense of power to invoke lust in him. He wanted her, needed her on some level.

  Sinclair undid his trousers and pulled them down his legs. His thick erection sprang from the linen. The head was deep purple and slick with arousal, nested in black hair at the base. Rowena ached to feel it inside her, to feel him on top of her, plunging endlessly...

  Sinclair settled himself over her, a leg on either side of her waist and palmed one of her breasts with his big hand. He popped the nipple in his mouth and suckled her, drawing strongly. Rowena's head fell back as she twisted in the restraints. Her nipples had always been sensitive and he knew just the right amount of suction and speed she preferred.

  When he'd laved both nipples, he looked down at her with satisfaction. “Do you like this, little slave?"

  "Yes!” she said urgently. Her eyes had slammed shut and her hands had balled into fists, the knuckles gone white. The illusion of any control on her part had been fleeting. She was helpless against the onset of his prowess. “Please..."

  "Please, what? Is there something you need?"

  It galled her to say it, but she needed him inside. She kept picturing the fullness of his fingers between her legs and needed to feel his thick cock inside her, claiming her. “I need you inside me."

  Sinclair grinned. “I thought you'd never ask. Happy to oblige.” He lurched into her and she cried out at the sudden fullness and the beginnings of pain. Sinclair slid in and out of her, rough and eager. This wasn't lovemaking, it was possession.

  Sinclair set a rapid pace and Rowena knew she wouldn't last much longer. She needed this release, needed to feel a few fleeting moments of pleasure.

  His hand slid between their bodies to manipulate her in to giving him what he wanted. Rowena didn't disappoint either, she gasped as her body began to convulse.

  "Oh, master, yes!"

  He impaled her one last time before giving an exultant cry and collapsing on top of her.

  Hours later, when Rowena finally roused from her stupor, she found that he had already fallen asleep. He'd removed her restraints and had arranged her body around his own, holding her captive.

  One of his big hands circled her waist and the other settled possessively between her legs.

  "Mine,” he muttered in his sleep, drawing her inexorably closer.

  Rowena shivered, afraid that he was right. Afraid that she'd truly become a slave. Even more so, afraid that she enjoyed his rough loving.

  Chapter 5

  Thorne Estate

  London, England

  Vayne Thorn read missives as he sat at his mahogany desk in the den. The den was his favorite room in the elegant town house he owned, with its thick blue carpet and calming tan walls. But today, it didn't hold as much appeal as it usually did.

  His thoughts kept straying back to his new pet as he tried to work on his correspondence. He kept coming back to the idea that she was his, at least part of the time.

  Rowena Black had been promised to him and it should have stayed that way. But he held hope that she would be his sole possession soon enough. After all, being a warlock was a very dangerous profession. He'd hate for anything unpleasant to happen to Sinclair.

  He grew impatient waiting for her to arrive, the way a mortal child did on Christmas Eve. He glanced at the clock on the mantle and discovered that it was nearly eleven. Rochester had made it clear that she would rotate between their households on a strict schedule.

  Sinclair was late.

  When he finally deigned to appear in the den with Rowena in tow, it was nearly noon and Vayne's patience had been pushed to its limit.

  Vayne pasted on a polite smile. “Sinclair,” he acknowledged. His eyes drifted from the other warlock's disgruntled face to Rowena who crouched at his feet, her eyes carefully fixed on the floor. Vayne's view of her was partially obscured by Sinclair's cape, which fell protectively over her back.

  Why Sinclair insisted on wearing clothes from the 19th century, Vayne couldn't guess, but the man looked ridiculous. Not taking his eyes off of Rowena, he waved a dismissive hand at Sinclair. “You may go now."

  Sinclair leered down at Rowena. “I must apologize for my tardiness, I was otherwise engaged.” One of his long hands settled into Rowena's hair and he stroked it, almost tenderly. Like an owner caresses a prized pet.

  Vayne's fists clenched. “I see. I do hope I won't lose track of the time as well.” Vayne could see a thin white line appear about his mouth. Apparently, Sinclair had become quite enamored of their little prize. Too bad. Rowena had been his since he'd first clapped eyes on her.

  Sinclair reined in his rage and inclined his head in a tight nod. “I'll expect you tomorrow afternoon, Thorne.” He looked down at Rowena one more time, evidently reluctant to leave her in Vayne's clutches. He paused, about to say something to her but thought better of it and disappeared as warlocks learned to do, leaving Vayne alone with Rowena.

  Vayne had waited for this moment for years.

  He had Rowena Black at his mercy, he could do anything depraved thing he wanted with her.

  "Stand up,” he ordered curtly, coming out from behind his desk. He'd been looking forward to humbling her, but he didn't counted on being so pleased to see her, so eager for her arrival.

  She obediently got to her feet and met his gaze. If the dear girl would have had a weapon, Vayne was certain he'd be a dead man.

  "I won't have you pretending you're somewhere else or I'm someone else, Rowena. You are always to keep your eyes on me unless I tell you otherwise. Understood?"

  "Yes, I understand.” she snapped.

  Vayne stepped behind her, his breath falling on her shoulder. He was too close for her comfort and she just barely resisted the urge to flee. He could tell by the way her leg muscles tightened and then released, in preparation to run. Only she had no means of escape.

  Sinclair had healed all of her wounds and she had been restored to her former glory. Good. Vayne had no use for torture, not when there were much more pleasurable ways of getting information.

  "You will address me as Vayne or Thorne. You will speak my name so that you will always know who is punishing you, who is inside you. Understand?"

  Obviously, she wanted him almost as much he wanted her, but he was far more honest about his desires. “Yes, Thorne."

  "Now, let's take a better look at you.” He situated himself on the couch so he could get a panoramic view. He regarded her with approving eyes. Rowena was undeniably beautiful. “Turn around for me with your arms spread wide."

  "No."

  "No? You think it's beneath you? You're a slave, Rowena, not a sorcerer. Not anymore, at least."

  "I don't care what you do. You're not going to break me. So, fuck you,” she growled.

  Vayne grinned. “I'd be delighted, but first I want you to turn around. I want to see my property."

  "Fine!” She pirouetted before him, but her eyes spit fire at him. Vayne sucked in a breath at the sight of her lithe body, moving in fluid motion. He had planned to humiliate her, tease her, and leave his own marks on her flesh, but instead he was seized with a most unwelcome desire for her. Not lust, desire. Vayne wanted to please her. She was the enemy. He planned on fucking her roughly and easing his urges, but he hadn't counted on how lovely she was. How she made him feel.

  He craved a taste of her luscious body. Her creamy skin was unlined, smooth and even. Exquisite.

  Rowena's breath was rapid, a mixture of fear and desire. One heightened the other. How curious that they had the same physical effect on the body—the dilated eyes, the panting breaths, the delicious loss of self-control.

  "Are you afraid of me, Rowena?"

  She scowled. “No. Ar
e you afraid of me?"

  Vayne touched the jagged scar that bisected his cheek. “Would you like to rethink your answer?"

  "You got what you deserved.” She offered her no apologies, merely watched him with spiteful eyes.

  "Perhaps this will change your mind.” Vayne pulled her athame from his back pocket. “Remember this?'

  "That's mine!"

  "Actually, it belongs to me now. Just like you."

  She bit her lower lip to keep from saying something, whether to curse at him or beg for mercy, he couldn't say but he bet it wasn't the latter.

  He wanted to view her body from every angle as well as increase her anxiety. It worked, she grew more agitated as he paced a tight circle around her.

  "We're going to play a game today.” She didn't speak, merely waited for him to continue. Excellent. He came up behind her, placing a gloved hand on her shoulder before he placed her athame against her throat. She gasped, backing up against his body.

  She finally found her voice. “Are you going to kill me?"

  "I wouldn't dream of it, Rowena.” He ran the blade across her throat, lightly scraping it against her skin, but never actually breaking it. He didn't stop until it rested on the nape of her neck. “I'm just going to slide this over you, let you feel it against your skin.” He released her abruptly and she looked over her shoulder at him, audibly gulping at the sight of the knife in his grip.

  "Lie down on my desk."

  She slowly walked over to the desk on wobbly legs. She started to lie down on her back when he spoke up. “On your stomach."

  She obediently turned over and lay down on her stomach. His breath caught at the depraved tableau before him.

  "Very good. And do be sure to stay still, I'd hate for my hand to slip."

  He ran the blade down the sloping lines of her back admiring the look of cool silver against her pale flesh. He knew the knife belonged to her family. He'd wager her father would roll over in his grave if he knew he used it on her in a sex game. Somehow, that made it all the more delicious.

  As he scraped it along the back of her knees, her breath came faster. “Does it feel good? Do you like the kiss of steel against your skin, Rowena?"

  Rowena hesitated. He could tell that she wanted to say no, wanted to tell him to go to the devil, but she moaned as it traveled across her calf. “Yes, Vayne."

  He ran it all the way down both of her legs, pausing briefly at the back of her thigh. For a moment, he had the wild urge to carve his initials into her, mark her the way she had marked him, but marring her unblemished skin would have been a crime.

  "Turn over,” he said hoarsely.

  Rowena rolled over and splayed her legs for him of her own accord. “Good girl.” He ran the dagger up the inside of her thigh, stopping just below her dripping pussy. He slipped a finger inside her. “You're wet, Rowena. I knew you wanted me. Wanted this. Tell me what you desire and I'll give it to you."

  She pulled in a deep breath. “I want you to let me go."

  Vayne laughed, utterly delighted by her disobedience. He didn't care for complete submission from his pets. He preferred to work with them. He pressed the tip of the dagger just a bit more and was rewarded by a lovely little droplet of blood that beaded against her alabaster thigh.

  She cried out and not just in pain.

  "Oh, dear, my hand slipped.” He leaned over her, letting his weight settle across her body. He loved the combination of her nudity and his fully-clothed state. “But it felt good, didn't it? That little bit of pain sharpened the pleasure. Enhanced it."

  Rowena writhed against him, lost to sensation. “Oh, yes!"

  Howling in triumph, Vayne pressed his finger at just the right spot and she moaned, her eyes falling closed.

  She bucked against his hand, begging for him with her body. “Tell me you want me. Tell me you need me."

  "I don't!” she blurted out. “I don't! But I do!” She closed her eyes, presumably ashamed by he own admission. Tears dribbled from the corners of her eyes. “I shouldn't want this but I do. What's wrong with me? I—"

  The game was over. He'd wanted her admission all along. “Hush, Rowena.” He tossed knife aside. His mouth hovered over her eyelids and he pressed feather light kisses there, tasting the salty sweetness of her tears. He kissed his way to her rosebud mouth. “Hush now. I'll give us what we both want."

  He undid his pants and freed his thick erection and then crawled up her body, placing it against her mouth. Rowena licked him from the base to the very tip of his cock. He groaned as she fastened her eyes on his and meekly sucked his cock into her mouth.

  Vayne almost came just from the feel of her slippery mouth around him, a heated vortex meant to pleasure any man. To reward her for her efforts, he teased her clit until she danced under his hands. When he could stand it no more, he pulled his cock from her mouth and positioned himself against her.

  Vayne cupped her face in his hands and fastened his eyes on hers. He wanted Rowena to know that he was the one inside her. For some reason, it mattered to him. Vayne wanted her to want him. He sank into her, became part of her as he held her with his fevered gaze.

  It was the most intimate thing he'd ever done.

  He slid in and out of her, creating a slow and deliberate pace that gradually drove them both to madness.

  Perhaps they had truly joined.

  Hours later, Vayne lay beside her in his bed, watching her sleep in the semi-darkness. Rowena slept soundly, a few scant inches from him but even then she was too far away. He pulled her close against his body, relishing the feel of her in his arms. It felt right.

  Vayne realized he felt connected to Rowena in a way that he hadn't expected, perhaps because she'd been his enemy for years. He fell asleep easily, feeling more at peace than he had in a very long time.

  Chapter 6

  Rowena paced the length of Vayne's bedroom. Vayne was still in bed, an arm thrown over his head. He seemed to be sleeping peacefully, as though unconcerned about anything. Meanwhile, she was a mass of nerves.

  What the hell was wrong with her?

  She was supposed to be spying, not playing sex games with two warlocks. She went to the bathroom and closed and locked the door. She needed to get some perspective.

  Rowena closed her eyes as she stepped into the shower spray. Vayne's shower stall had a heated marble floor and the water beat down on her in deliciously rough manner. It massaged her muscles and loosened the tightness in her limbs.

  She was used to physical combat but hard loving took its own toll on her body, although it was a pleasurable toll. She couldn't remember feeling so luscious. It was as though he'd brought her sensuality to the fore.

  She was alone. Vayne had been summoned to a meeting at Rochester's castle. She was grateful for the respite and the time to think. She'd never placed a premium on alone time, but as soon as she didn't have any, it became terribly important.

  As she drew the washcloth across her body, she kept picturing the night before. While Sinclair's touch had been pleasurable, Vayne's had been a revelation. He'd not only taken possession of her body, but a bit of her soul, too.

  Rowena responded to him on both a physical and emotional level. Vayne had always gotten under her skin though. Something about him stirred her, awakened her in a way no other man had ever managed.

  Whatever it was, it couldn't continue. She wouldn't let it. Rowena had become his slave and that was hardly the building block of a relationship.

  Rowena dried herself off. Not wearing clothing had its benefits, she supposed. She was already dressed. Spying Vayne's discarded black sweater on the floor, she picked it up gingerly. It smelled of him and she couldn't resist pulling it on, liked the scent of him on her skin.

  Madness. They had driven her to madness.

  Her behavior was more appropriate for a lovesick schoolgirl, than a sorcerer. But she wasn't a sorcerer anymore.

  She'd given up her powers in her own quest to stop the Coven. She hadn't realized how it woul
d feel to lose them. For a mortal it would be like losing any other sense, sight, hearing, or smell. Without the pull of magic in her bones, she felt empty..

  Rowena stood in front of the foggy bathroom mirror. She swiped at the moisture with her palm and stared at herself. Under her eyes, circles marred her pale skin. She'd lost a great deal of weight and her bones were more prominent. Rowena wasn't sure she recognized herself anymore. For so long her life had been about revenge.

  Her father had been murdered in their family home in London. She'd arrived home from school to discover her father's body lying in the kitchen. He'd been making stew for dinner and all around him were pieces of chopped vegetables, stained with his blood. His eyes stared at nothing, sightless and empty. Her father was dead, his soul carried away.

  Rowena had died that day, too. At least a part of her. She lost her innocence and made a decision in that moment, to continue her father's legacy. She vowed to become a sorcerer and track down Rochester and his brethren. She vowed to break the Coven and bring it to its knees.

  She had a job to do. It was high time she remembered that. Rowena padded out of the bathroom, leaving the sweater on the floor where she'd found it. Discarded.

  Rowena paused in the den doorway staring across the room at his sturdy mahogany desk. She couldn't believe that he'd taken her right there. And she'd loved every minute of it. She was a fool.

  She walked over and sat down at the desk. Her athame lay on the floor and she picked it up and put it on the desk. Now, wasn't the time to worry about family heirlooms. She was determined to find out something about the Coven. She began opening drawers, looking for clues as she rifled through papers and folders.

  A clue came to her. Rowena discovered information on elections in several different countries. Included were all the countries in the European Union as well as the United States. So, they had plans for not only England, but also the United States. Global domination.

  Regardless of the meaning, she had to pass the information on to the Alliance. Rowena closed her eyes and held out her hand in front of her, searching through time and space. She searched for the pocket universe that she could access form anywhere in the world. She didn't use magic to retrieve the fountain pen she stored there. She simply knew where to look. Any mortal could use a pocket universe if they happened to find one.