Gabriel’s Inferno Trilogy by Sylvain Reynard Page 0,22

response and immediately flew to her side to press her into a hug. “Don’t you worry. I’m here now, and I’ll straighten him out. He has a heart, somewhere, underneath everything else. I know, I saw it once. Now help me wash some vegetables. The lamb is already in the oven.”

When Gabriel returned, he eagerly opened the wine, smiling to himself wickedly. He was in for a treat, and he knew it. He knew how Julianne looked when she tasted wine, and now he would have a repeat of her erotic performance from the other night. He felt himself twitch more than once in anticipation and wished that he had a video camera secretly placed in his condo somewhere. It would probably be too obvious to pull his camera out and take snapshots of her.

He showed her the bottle first, noting with approval the impressed expression that passed across her face when she read the label. He’d brought this special vintage back from Tuscany, and it would have pained him to waste it on an undiscerning palate. He poured a little into her glass and stood back, watching, and trying very hard not to grin.

Just as before, Julia swirled the wine slowly. She examined it in the halogen light. She closed her eyes and sniffed. Then she wrapped her kissable lips around the rim of the goblet and tasted it slowly, holding the wine in her mouth for a moment or two before swallowing.

Gabriel sighed, watching her as the wine traveled down her long and elegant throat.

When Julia opened her eyes, she saw Gabriel swaying slightly in front of her, his blue eyes darkened, his breath somewhat affected, and the front of his charcoal gray trousers…She frowned at him. Hard. “Are you all right?”

He passed a hand over his eyes and willed himself into submission. “Yes. Sorry.” He poured a large glass for her and one for himself and began to sip it sensuously, watching her intently over the rim of his glass.

“You’re probably starving, Gabriel. I know what a beast you turn into when you’re hungry.” Rachel spoke over her shoulder as she stirred some kind of sauce on the stove.

“What are we having with the lamb?” He was watching Julia like a hawk as she brought her wineglass up to her luscious mouth once again and took a large swallow.

Rachel placed a box on the breakfast bar. “Couscous!”

Julia spat out her wine, drenching Gabriel and his white shirt. In shock at her sudden expectoration, she dropped the wineglass, dousing herself and his hardwood floor in the process. The crystal goblet shattered on impact at the foot of her barstool.

Gabriel began shaking the wine droplets off of his expensive dress shirt and cursed. Loudly. Julia dropped to her knees and swiftly tried to pick up the scattered glass shards with her bare hands.

“Stop,” he said quietly, peering down at her over the edge of the breakfast bar.

Julia continued her desperate mission, tears escaping her eyes.

“Stop,” he said more loudly, walking around the counter.

She transferred some of the glass shards to her other hand and tried picking up the remainder piece by piece, crawling on the floor pathetically like a wounded puppy that was dragging a broken paw.

“Stop! For God’s sake, woman, stop. You’ll shred yourself to ribbons.” Gabriel towered menacingly, his anger descending on her from on high like the wrath of God.

He pulled her to her feet by her shoulders and forced her to dump the glass from her hands into a bowl on the countertop, before guiding her down the hall and into the guest washroom.

“Sit,” he ordered.

Julia sat on the top of the closed toilet and heaved a subdued but shuddering sob.

“Hold out your hands.”

Her hands were stained with red wine and some small trickles of blood. A few crystals of glass sparkled on her palm amongst the cuts. Gabriel cursed a few times and shook his head as he opened the medicine cabinet. “You don’t listen very well, do you?”

Julia blinked at her tears, sorry that she couldn’t wipe them away with her hands.

“And you don’t do what you’re told.” He looked over at her and abruptly stopped.

He didn’t know why he stopped, and if you had asked him why afterward, he would have shrugged and given you no explanation. But once he stopped what he was doing and saw the poor little creature that was huddled in a corner crying, he felt…something. Something other than annoyance or anger or guilt or sexual arousal. He