Free Enslave by Felicity Heaton Page B

covers on the four-poster bed neat and straight. Her limited senses confirmed that he wasn’t in the apartment, or even on the same floor as she was.
    She opened the door and almost skipped down the hall, feeling positive and carefree now that the bastard was out. All she had to do was avoid the beast and his brother, and she could have another taste of Andreu.
    Had he thought about her as much as she had thought about him?
    She had even dreamed of him.
    Varya couldn’t remember a time when she had dreamed of a man before, but she had dreamt of Andreu and it had been incredibly hot, a vision of wild lovemaking that would quench even the most carnal thirsts. A tangle of limbs and sweat-soaked skin, and deep rumbling moans of pleasure. An erotic dance that far surpassed any she had experienced and awakened hungers in her that had stayed with her when she had woken, leaving her heart pounding for more. It had been luscious and deeply satisfying. Would it feel that way in reality?
    If she gave in to temptation and her desire for Andreu, would she be able to control her instincts to feed? She honestly didn’t want to kill Andreu.
    She doubted she could even if she did lose control.
    He was stronger than the fae king that she had bedded many times without killing.
    Varya teleported down to the bottom of the double-height black room backstage and paused when her senses spiked. He was near. She kept herself veiled and approached the twin doors that led to the theatre. He was there on the other side. She closed her eyes and when she opened them again, she was in the box where she had been when she had first seen him.
    Her eyes widened at the delicious and tempting display on the stage below her.
    Andreu lay reclined on a red velvet chaise longue wearing only his black trousers. One leg stretched out along the length so his bare foot dangled over the end and the other was crooked at the knee. He rested a book on that knee, his brilliant blue gaze scanning the pages. When he flipped the page, every muscle in his arm shifted and flexed beneath his skin, delighting her eyes. He raked his fingers through his tawny hair and sighed.
    Gods, he looked so good.
    She needed him so much.
    Varya disappeared and reappeared on the stage beside him. She walked around to the foot of the chaise longue, assessing him and drinking her fill of him at rest. When she revealed herself, he was sure to fly at her as he had before she had teleported from his room. She wanted to make the most of him as he was now.
    She reached his feet and froze. Her glamour lifted against her will and she realised her mistake.
    The grey ash on the scuffed black stage floor had slipped her notice. She had been too focused on him.
    Foolish.
    The circle of ash glowed and fire burned through her bones. She shrieked and Andreu dropped his book, instantly sitting up, his fangs on show and his eyes crimson.
    “Son of a bitch.” She pushed the words out and collapsed to her knees with a jolting thud as another wave of pain rocked her, intensifying the flames in her bones until she felt they would incinerate her and turn her to ashes similar to those that caged her.
    His eyes went wide, horror filling them. She didn’t believe their lie. He had sought to hurt her and he had succeeded. The ash surrounding her glowed brighter and she cried out again, squeezing her eyes shut against the agony that lanced her. Her skin prickled and heated. Her stomach twisted, feeling as though someone had punched her, and she doubled over, clutching it. She had to break the circle.
    It took tremendous effort to peel one hand away from her stomach. It slid limply down her thigh and hit the black wooden stage palm up. Her fingers shook, limb so heavy that she could barely move it. She drew sharp deep breaths and clenched her molars together, fighting the pain threatening to render her unconscious. Had to break the circle. She slowly opened her eyes, flipped her hand palm down and crept forwards with her