Page 12 of Wicked Angel

My chest ached. I pressed my thighs together even harder. Glaring up at the crystal blue eyes that looked down on me, I had to think that this man wasn’t even bothering to disguise the devil inside. He was as wicked as they came. If I agreed to this little bet of his, would I even have a chance of winning? But if I didn’t do anything … then, would I just give in and agree to be his wife and broodmare?

It was a simple enough decision. No. I wouldn’t give in. Not that easily.

“Fine,” I said, my voice sounding odd even to myself, breathless, uneven. “Are there any other rules?”

Gaven took his seat again, his knee brushing mine beneath the table. “Rule number one.” He picked up the glass of wine and held it out to me. “You can’t refuse anything I give you for the next hour.” I took the wine and tipped it back, draining half the glass before setting it down. “Rule two,” he continued. “You’ll answer every question I ask truthfully.”

“Only if you’ll do the same,” I replied.

He tipped his head to the side. “Of course,” he acquiesced after a beat of silence. “Then, onto the game.” Heat stole over my body as his hand slid to my thigh, the warmth of his palm burning past the fabric of my dress. “Answer my questions, and I’ll answer yours. Each of us gets one per turn. If you take too long to answer, then a penalty is in order.”

“Penalty?” My body was winding tighter and tighter with each word he spoke. “What kind of penalty?”

Those full, masculine lips of his twitched again. One corner tipped up, making him seem more boyish than before. “I’ll leave that up to each party. You choose your penalties, and I’ll choose mine.”

I gritted my teeth. “Fine.” Reaching down, I gripped his hand and removed it from my thigh.

He didn’t respond save for the soft raise of his brow and that twitch of his lips again. Gaven reached for the wine once more and took a sip. “Let’s begin then.”

5

ANGEL

Hewasfamiliar. Something about him pricked at the back of my mind. Every time I tried to uncover the memory, though, it would flit away and I was left with the unanswered question:Who was Gaven Belmonte?

“Why are you so against this marriage?” he began.

“I want to go to college,” I tell him. “I don’t want to be a wife … not now.”

“So, it’s not the choice of groom, then?” Gaven asked.

I shook my head. “No, also, that was two questions.” I smirked. “This was your idea, and already you’re breaking the rules.”

Gaven blinked and then sat back with a grin. “You’re right. What’s your penalty?”

“I want you to move away.”

With a gruff noise, Gaven slid his chair a scant few inches away. I should’ve told him to go sit at a different table, but it was too late now. Regardless, just those few inches were enough to finally give me some breathing room. “Your turn,” he said.

“Why did you choose me?”

“I thought I told you that the why doesn’t matter.”

“You did,” I nodded and reached for my water once more. “But I want to know regardless.”

“I’m attracted to you.”

Fuck.Liquid shot up my nose. Coughing, I set my glass down hard and glared at him. He shrugged. “You requested honesty, Angel.”

“That can’t be all. Why the hell would a man marry a woman based on attraction alone?”

“You didn’t ask me for a detailed explanation,” he replied. “Now, it’s my turn.”

Before I could protest, Gaven slid his chair closer once more and his hand landed on my knee. I stiffened. “The rules…” My words drifted off as his finger dug into my flesh.

“You asked a second question,” he said, eyes gleaming. “This is your penalty.”

I had? I thought back. Shit, technically, he was right. I needed to be more careful with my questions and responses.

---