“Trust me, Lia.”
The last shred of my resistance fell away and I sank to my knees. His fingertips grazed my chin, tugging my mouth open. Then he licked his fingers and put his pointer and index on my tongue. Letting me taste him.
“Tonight won’t work unless you are all mine, angel,” he said softly. “Unless you let me put the broken parts back together.”
Broken? I swallowed. He’d never called me anything less than perfect, less than beautiful, less than good. I gazed up at him and there was a wasteland behind his eyes. The Peregrine who called me his angel was gone, replaced with a man who demanded nothing less than worship.
And I gave it to him. I stayed on my knees and let him feed me from his hands until the food was gone and the wine was drunk. The later it got, the more the atmosphere in the room changed and became almost dreamlike. When Peregrine finally pulled me to my feet, I was drunk on adoration. Basking in the gentleness of his touch and the hardness of his eyes.
“I feel different,” I whispered.
“I expect so,” Peregrine said. “So do they.”
I looked down the table and my eyes fell on Duran, his face buried against Iris’s throat. Kissing her slowly and languidly with an open mouth. She had her head back and she moaned softly. I flushed hard, realizing that everyone around us was a good deal more relaxed. Cosimo had his hand around Lorenza’s chair, his grip loose on her throat. She was rocking in her seat, her head curled into his shoulder.
What he’d done to me didn’t seem so strange anymore. I blinked, the room soft and warm and inviting around me. Overhead, the lights were hazy and filled my vision, slashed with darkness and the faces of stone angels. But none were more beautiful than my husband, my angel and my devil.
My stone faced monster.
“Take me on your lap,” I whispered. “Please.”
He shook his head. “Not yet. You’ll sing for me soon.”
The prospect wasn’t so terrifying anymore. I sank against him and he gripped my thigh, pushing his fingers between my legs. I wore a thin pair of lace panties and his touch burned like fire through the fabric. Rubbing absently over my sex as he sat there, lounging like a king on his throne. Fingering me because it pleased him.
My body was on fire and begging for more. After a while, Peregrine clapped his hands, inviting the guests to gather in the front room. They moved, in a slow surge, like a wave on the shore, through the shadows to the room where I would sing for them.
When the dining room was empty, Peregrine rose and turned on me. For a moment, I had a fleeting impression of terrifying beauty and he pulled me up and bent me over the table. My pulse ached in my chest as he kissed up my naked back and I braced myself for ecstasy, my heart pounding in anticipation.
But he didn’t lift my skirt. Instead he gathered my hair and drew my hair back. His mouth was hot on my throat and his hips worked against my ass.
“I want you to trust me tonight, angel,” he breathed. “Can you do that?”
I nodded, eager to please him. Dying to hear him praise me.
“That’s my good girl,” he said. “You know what to say to get out of this.”
“Yes, sir,” I gasped.
“Tell me you trust me.”
He flipped me on my back, his groin pushed against my pussy, hard through the fabric between our bodies.
“I trust you,” I whispered.
He pulled me upright and kissed my mouth, his tongue like fire. Kissing me the way I’d longed for during his absence. He pulled back and gently bit my tattooed lip, tugging it in his teeth before releasing it.
I was a shivering mess when he took my hand and lead me through the empty dining room. My vision spun as we entered the front room and I realized then that I was stepping down into another world. Like the night he’d guided me down to his studio. To his paradise.
The walls were draped in black velvet and in the center of the room was a bed covered with red satin. The room was lined with thick couches and chairs and the guests sprawled out over them. Their bodies were still clothed, but many of the couples were grinding softly against each other. Hands were pushed beneath skirts and hips moved in a slow drumbeat. There was a soft scent like arousal mixed with the incense burning in a platter above the bed. At the far side of the room was a grand piano and a statue, draped in heavy cloth.
“Peregrine,” I whispered.
“Let go, Lia,” he murmured.
As he walked me across the room, my body relaxed further. The door shut and there was nothing but swirling shadows and the soft sounds of desire. Peregrine pulled me to the front of the room and everyone fell silent, lifting their heads and focusing their hazy eyes on us.
“Sing for us,” someone said.