Gabriel’s Inferno Trilogy by Sylvain Reynard Page 0,86

is he so angry with me? Why doesn’t he remember?

A tall and shirtless Gabriel looked down at her. He was clad only in his underwear, which made him look slightly sexy and slightly ridiculous. His fists were clenched, and Julia saw the tendons standing out in his magnificent arms.

“Don’t you remember what happened last night, Gabriel?”

“No, thankfully I don’t. And get up! You’re on your knees more than the average whore.” He spoke through clenched teeth, glaring at her servile form.

Julia’s head popped up. She searched his eyes, noting his complete and utter lack of memory and his irritation. He might as well have run her through with a sword. She felt the blade pierce and enter her heart, and she felt her heart begin to hemorrhage slowly.

Just like his tattoo, she thought. He’s the dragon; I’m the bleeding heart.

In that instant of silent realization, the most remarkable thing happened. Something inside of her, six years in the making, finally, finally snapped.

“I’ll have to take you at your word about the behavior of whores, Emerson. Only you would know,” she growled.

Then, when that snide remark didn’t quite heal the ache in the now expanding fissure in her heart, she boldly forgot about cleaning up her mess and leaped to her feet. And promptly lost her temper.

“Don’t you dare speak to me like that, you lousy drunk!” she snarled. “Who the fuck do you think you are? After everything I did for you last night? I should have let Gollum have you! I should have let you fuck her brains out in front of everyone on top of the bar at Lobby!”

“What are you talking about?”

She leaned toward him, eyes flashing, cheeks flushed, and lips trembling. She shook with anger as the adrenaline coursed through her veins. She wanted to hit him. She wanted to wipe that expression off his face with her fists. She wanted to pull his hair out in handfuls and leave him bald. Forever.

Gabriel inhaled her scent, erotic and inviting, and licked his lips involuntarily. But that was the wrong thing to do in front of a woman as angry as Miss Mitchell.

She tossed her head in fury and stomped down the hall, muttering various and sundry exotic expletives in both English and Italian. And when she came to the end of them, she switched to German, a sure sign that she was in a towering rage.

“Hau ab! Verpiss dich!” she spat from the laundry room.

Gabriel slowly began rubbing his eyes, for in addition to suffering from one of the worst hangover headaches of his life, he was slightly enjoying the sight of Miss Mitchell in his T-shirt and boxer shorts, passionately angry and shouting at him in a multiplicity of Western European languages. It was the second most erotic thing he had ever witnessed. And it was entirely beside the point.

“How did you learn to swear in German?” He followed the sound of her cursing auf Deutsch to the laundry room where she was removing her now semi-dry clothes from the dryer.

“Bite me, Gabriel!”

He was distracted at that moment by a black lace bra that was reclining provocatively but somewhat casually on top of the dryer. He gazed at it and realized that the number and cup size that popped into his head the night he’d taken her to Harbour Sixty for dinner were absolutely correct. Gabriel silently congratulated himself.

He dragged his eyes up to meet hers. There were sparks in them, luminescent butterscotch in dark chocolate, like a glittering sundae.

“What are you doing?”

“What does it look like I’m doing? I’m getting the hell out of here before I take one of your stupid bow ties and strangle you with it!”

Gabriel frowned, for he had always thought that those ties were smart. “Who is Gollum?”

“Christa-fucking-Peterson.”

Gabriel’s eyebrows shot up. Christa? I guess she is Gollum-like. If you squint.

“Forget about Christa. I don’t care about her. Did you have sex with me?” He crossed his arms and his voice grew serious.

“In your dreams, Gabriel!”

“That is not a denial, Miss Mitchell.” He put his hand on her arm and forced her to stop what she was doing. “And don’t tell me it wouldn’t have formed part of your dreams too.”

“Get your hands off me, you arrogant bastard!” Julia pulled away so forcefully she almost fell backward. “Of course, you would have to be drunk to want to fuck me.”

Gabriel reddened. “Stop it. Who said anything about fucking?”

“What else would you do? I’m the crazy little whore who’s down on

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