A Wanton's Thief Read Online Free Page B

watching helpless, as each of his mortal lovers throughout the past decades and centuries had died off.
    Shaking the morbid thoughts, he allowed the fire to settle to a boil within his balls, and the sac throbbed with a demanding vengeance. Falcon tightened his hold on her, grinding her hip into his penis as he held her gaze, entranced by her witch’s charm. Suddenly, he understood how one must feel to be under his own tazing spells. And her eyes, coupled with that intoxicating ire, were far more potent than his own.
    “You are released from submission—for the moment.” He looked away, breaking the tie that held her bound to his dominance.
    He needed no powers to tell the exact second she realized she was free. But Falcon was prepared. With one hand, he kept a sure grip on the reins. He clamped his thighs around the stallion to keep them both safely mounted. His arms closed around her upper body, pinning her elbows to her sides.
    And she thrashed and screeched, bucking against his tight hold.
    “You monster!” She tried to hunch her head down to bite his forearm, but he shook her hard enough to prevent the defensive move. “Oh! You’ll pay for this. The king and my brother will hunt you down. You will die, Falcon Montague. You will die a choking death at the gallows—and hopefully suffer some rotting in prison before you should be so lucky.”
    “Madam, you do so break my heart with your penchant for vengeance.”
    She twisted then, and shot him a loathing look. “ Vengeance? That is but a smidgen of what I wish upon you. You have entered my home uninvited, apparently stolen from my family’s coffers—” she glowered at the bulge of loot upon his back, “—accosted me in my own private chambers and abducted me from the safety of the only home I have ever known.”
    He grinned down at her. “You’ve forgotten the fact that I’ve set out to deflower you for your betrothal to the very stodgy but still alive Duke of Oxford.”
    “He is not stodgy!” she shrieked.
    Falcon guided the horse up a sharp incline and turned deeper into the woods. “I beg to differ.” And to prove his point, he dragged her hip back and forth over his erection. “Do you feel that?”
    Delight stirred within him when she let out an involuntary whimper of mortification—or was it desire? “How could I not? It stands erect like a bloody lance between us!”
    He threw his head back and roared. “Aye, good point. But do you see my point?”
    When she remained mute, her jaw clamped, and presented him with her regal profile, he went on. “The duke is beginning to gray, his skin is showing signs of shriveling and it is said that his…lance…is no longer in working order.”
    “You lie!”
    “I tell naught but truths, young, beautiful maiden. And to add further fact to my ‘tales’, he’s also—reportedly, of course—in dire need of a very rich dowry to pull his estate out of the deep bowels of his gambling sickness. And it is my understanding that you, milady, possess a sizable dowry.”
    She swiped her hood from her head, and he watched as the moonlight speared down upon the long sable locks. Faint auburn highlights glimmered upon the lunar-bathed tendrils. Clouds dissipated in the night sky above, making way for the pinpoint twinkles of stars. Unable to resist, he reached up and combed his hand through the silky curtain until he gripped her nape.
    “You are a vile serpent.” She slapped at his arm, barely jarring it. “And you get your filthy hands off me this instant!”
    “Ah,” he rasped, drawing her closer. “But serpents do not have hot, talented hands. They are, however, snakes,” he amended, jerking back on the reins until his mount halted, “like that which you’ve awakened within my britches.”
    At his words, she went into a flurry of twists and bucks, obviously understanding his esoteric meaning. She growled reminding him of a wild cat fighting to be released from his hold.
    “Stop. Stop now or we both