Threads of Desire (Spellcraft) - By Stone, Eleri Page 0,10

pay you well for your work, but that’s not conditional on you sharing my bed. What happens between us as man and woman has nothing to do with money. I won’t let you lie to yourself on that point.”

She wet her lips. “Between you and me, it will always be about money. If I accept your commission, I’ll be little more than a servant to you.”

His mouth tightened but his gaze didn’t waver. “Not when it comes to sex. When we’re together, I’ll be your servant even as you’re mine. I’m not paying you to fuck me, Ily. Come willingly or not at all.”

Willingly? He had to know how badly she wanted him. He did know. She could see that awareness in his eyes, shaded by confusion. Only yesterday, she’d offered him sex in exchange for his help. Now, when he offered her everything she desired freely, she balked. But she didn’t trust him. She wasn’t in control any longer and this felt like a trap.

But how could she walk away?

“We haven’t agreed on a price for the rug.”

“Name it.”

“Three thousand adrans.” It was a fortune. He’d never agree to such an inflated—

“Done.”

The hand cradling her face was hard, cool and very steady. Surely, he could feel her trembling.

She swallowed to wet her suddenly dry throat and gathered her courage as if she were about to cast the most difficult spell of her life. When she looked into his eyes, she felt the strange pull, that connection like an undertow tugging her into deeper water. “Take me to your bed.”

He smiled.

Chapter Five

I will be your servant even as you are mine. In the end, it was that promise that swayed her. A man like Kal—proud and strong, never broken—offering his body for her service. How could she refuse?

She wanted him. There was no question of that, and she was so very tired of being a mouse.

They’d entered his chambers. A fire was lit in the grate, but it had burned down to embers. A flare from the taper he touched to the flame briefly illuminated his face as he turned to light the candles. His back was to her, straight and powerful. She could see the flex of muscle through the thin fabric as he lifted his arms. He was a work of art himself. He belonged to this place as much as it belonged to him.

“Take off your shirt,” she said, surprised at how bold her voice rang out when inside she was beginning to melt. I will be your servant. She wanted to know if he meant that or if it had only been a careless turn of phrase.

He turned his head to the side, placing his face in profile—the straight nose, sensual lips, bold chin. She thought he might balk, but slowly he drew the shirt over his head, revealing golden skin inch by maddening inch. The slopes and angles of him, the way the firelight kissed every curve, drew her a step closer. His house sigil was tattooed on his right arm, the dragon’s tail curling sinuously around his bicep. When he tossed his shirt aside, his muscles briefly flexed and the scales rippled.

“May I turn around?”

“I’d rather you not.”

She wanted to touch him and his gaze always threatened to steal her courage. Or at least her good sense. She crossed the room on silent feet, the thick carpet absorbing every step. That she didn’t as much as glance down to examine the weave was a measure of her desire. It had been so long since she’d been intimate with a man. Ian, who she’d fancied herself in love with at the University. No, Gatin was the last—a mistake. She hoped she wouldn’t count this night as a mistake, too, but she suspected otherwise.

She touched him just above his shoulder blade and it seemed a momentous step, to reach for him after denying her attraction for so long. The heat from his body seeped into her fingertips, and she flattened her hand, smoothing her palm over the jut of bone. Kal lifted his head but otherwise remained still as stone. She thought he might have stopped breathing. When her hand drifted lower, his breath let out in a great rush. The sound reminded her of the horses the aristos rode in the marketplace, powerful creatures, proud.

“Remove your breeches too. Everything.”

Thumbs hooked inside the waistband. He hesitated briefly before shoving the breeches down his well-formed legs and kicking them aside. And he stood there, back