Free Avador Book 2, Night Shadows by Shirley Martin Page A

drawing her under his beguilement, so that she would want only him, but more than that, oh, so much more. After tonight, she would belong to him, her body to use for his pleasure, her mind to bend to his will. He noted her eyes sparkling with delight, her luscious smile, those full lips he longed to kiss, the sensuous swing of her body. Angharad. He wondered again if that was her real name, but for now, he wouldn't dwell on that quandary, but rather work his magic on her. Soon, she would be his alone, to keep or discard, or share with another man. Two men and one woman–Angharad–in bed. Ah, what a frolic that would be. Passionate images bombarded him, his arousal at a peak. Breathing deeply, he struggled to suppress his excitement.
    Angharad would never want anyone but him, and certainly not Gaderian. A spurt of anger knotted his stomach, and he resolved to forget about that vampire, one who could no longer threaten his plans.
    Angharad blinked her eyes and shook her head, as if she sensed he was casting a spell on her. He deepened his concentration and reveled at the look of longing when her eyes met his. His loins tightened, his body on fire until he could think of nothing or no one but Angharad. Before the sun rose on the morrow, she would be lying in his arms, satiated with passion, on fire to join with him again and again.
    No one else in their gathering perceived that he was bewitching his prey, for throughout the years, he'd learned to perfect his magic, create the illusion that all remained normal.
    Two more slow dances followed, then the tempo of the music increased as the band segued into another popular song, this one about a shipload of sailors with one woman on board their vessel. The men and women clapped their hands and stamped their feet, the women swaying their hips so provocatively that Stilo was well-nigh driven to madness. His every thought centered on Angharad, on lying with her body beneath his. He imagined her shed of her clothes, as if he could see her full breasts, those rose-tipped nipples, the tuft of hair at the junction between her legs. His passion increased, and he forced himself to think of other matters, other people, especially how he would get the best of Gaderian. He clasped Angharad's hand as they met once more in their rhythmic circuit, satisfied that her gaze was only for him. A sexual hunger for her flooded his body, a desire too great to ignore. He couldn't last much longer without taking her over to the bushes and making love to her then and there. He wanted her–now, now, now!
     
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    While the music played and the dancers stepped to the beat, Fianna met Stilo's gaze, his expression ardent and focused, as if she were the only woman in the world . How handsome he was in his dark blue tunic, a red leather belt studded with gold around his waist, his musk scent rather appealing. Gratified she'd gotten such a good bargain on her new green dress, the fake gold necklace , she knew she looked her best.
    A disorientation dizzied her, and she almost lost her step, but Stilo tightened his hold on her to prevent her from falling. She glanced around, at first not sure where she was. Ah, she was dancing with Stilo and other men and women, here at the fair grounds. Of course! Bright lights shimmered in front of her eyes, and the music of a thousand violins played in her head. She felt a pull, a dislocation of her senses, then a warm languor washed over her. She was sinking, sinking, sinking into a maelstrom of desire, a longing that rendered her helpless to think of anyone but this man who never took his gaze from her. She teased and taunted him, giving him her most beguiling smile, certain she could lure him into her web of enthrallment.
    A sexual yearning overwhelmed her, a longing not to be denied. Forget about Gaderian, she mused with a disdainful toss of her head. Before this night was over, she'd be lying in Stilo's arms and know the true meaning of love, the ultimate closeness