Instantly I regret the question, because something in his eyes breaks—cracks and shatters into a thousand pained shards as I watch.
His right hand abandons my arm and clasps my throat—no playful hold this time. “No one takes my will from me,” he says hoarsely. “I’m my own master. My choices aremine. My body is mine, and if you took it, while making me think it was my choice—”
“No, Locke,” I cry out, unable to watch his torment. “No, it doesn’t work like that. I can control people, but only for a few seconds, and only if I taste their blood. And they always remember it, so if I’d done it to you, you’d know.”
His grip at my throat tightens. “Why should I believe you?”
I suck a frantic breath through my shrinking airway. “Locke, please.”
“Everything I did today—it was for me, but it was also for you.” His mouth puffs hot breath against mine. “Stories will be told of this day, of the things I did to those men. My legend will grow and change because of it. Can you tell me honestly that you did not influence my decisions?”
He’s pressing against me, every hard plane of his magnificent body molded to my curves, and I feel a spike of tingling arousal, heightened by my peril. Staring into his eyes, I whisper, “I’ve never controlled you. But if you don’t let me go, I will. I’ll bite you until I taste a drop of your blood, and then you’ll be helpless to my command for a few precious seconds.” I struggle for breath, and he loosens his hold slightly. “I haven’t controlled your men either. Only Jinks, a sailor from theWending Willow, when he threatened me. And you saw me control the men on theLady Marcella. I convinced them to surrender.”
Locke’s fingers slacken a bit more, and his gaze dips to my mouth. “And the people you control—they remember it?”
“Yes.”
“So do it to me, right now,” he says through gritted teeth. “It’s the only way I can be sure you’re telling the truth.”
“What?” I gasp. “But—you’ll hate me for doing that.”
“Not if I’m the one asking you to. It’s the only way for me to be sure you’re not lying. Do it.”
Admiration for him rushes through my soul, synchronized with the growing heat in my core. He’s right—experiencing and remembering my control is the only way for him to be sure I’m not lying about my powers.
“Kiss me,” I whisper.
His lips twitch back in a snarl, showing his clenched teeth, but then he lunges for my mouth and kisses me, grinding his hips, his whole body against me with a ferocity that inflames my skin. I hardly have enough sense left to remember what I’m supposed to do. I clamp the thick flesh of his lower lip between my teeth and punch through the soft skin. His blood pulses over my lips and tongue, a salty dark swirl.
I lean back, giving myself enough space to speak. “Tell me your real name.”
45
Locke’s eyes glaze slightly as my control over his will kicks in. His response to my question is immediate. “My name is Ruen Hemlock Embergast.”
“Let me go, and kneel before me,” I order. “And give me your scarf.”
He backs away, hands over the scarf, and sinks down to his knees, bare-chested, bowing so low I glimpse the crowned-moth tattoo across his shoulder blades.
The taste of his blood is already fading from my tongue, and I swipe the rest off my lips with my thumb.
Locke looks up at me again, his brow knotted, his eyes refocusing as my control dissipates. “You compelled me. I didn’t even have the chance or desire to resist.” He rises, and I shift a step away from him. I understand his fear, but I don’t want to be choked anymore.
“You could still be lying,” he says. “You might have the power to disguise memories of the control, and you just omitted using them on me. You could be allowing me to remember, so I’ll trust you.”
“But that’s not true,” I reply. “I don’t know how else to convince you.” My hand drifts to my aching throat, and his eyes follow the movement.
His frown deepens. “I hurt you. Frightened you.”
“I understand why,” I say quietly. “My power is obscene. Disgusting. I hate it. That’s why I only use it in the very worst circumstances, when I have no other choice. And I’ve never gone beyond tasting a few drops of blood.”
“So you don’t know what might happen if you ingest more than that?” He crosses his arms, examining me.
“No.”
“And this is how you controlled your brother?”
“I helped him with his temper,” I admit. “I calmed him until he could restrain himself. I kept him from hurting people—sometimes. I wasn’t always fast enough.”
