Page 5 of To Tame An Angel

“Aren’t you going to behold your lady, number Seventy-four?” I asked when he made no move to open them.

This time he smiled, but it was a mockery. Slowly, he opened them and speared me with a hateful glare. There was an undeniable thrill that rushed through me. He was wordlessly challenging me, and I was desperate to prove him wrong. But I must enact patience.

“You look better than before.” I slowly rose and my blue gown fluttered to the ground.

His eyes followed the moment of the dress. His throat bobbed, but the rest of him was so still he looked like he was made from stone. Conscious of his stares, I moved around the room and poured a drink, then motioned for the couch.

“Have a seat,” I said.

He raised a brow but refused to move.

I paused my pouring, “I said sit -”

“Isn’t this when you start the beating before you brand me?” His voice was sharp and corroded.

His words zapped my annoyance. He wasn’t afraid or hesitant. Just angry. Perhaps a little confused. He met my gaze, and I noticed how he ground his teeth, making his jaw jut out.

I raised my brow. “Do you wish for a beating?”

“No,” his words were short and tight.

“Then why ask about it?” I sauntered to him, a glass of wine in hand.

He let out a frustrated breath and shifted his feet, making the chains jangle. “I don’t like games.”

At this, I smiled. “That’s a shame. I know many games we could partake in, and I dare say you’d enjoy yourself very much.”

There’s a twitch in his cock. His reaction is nearly imperceptible, but my magic shows it to me. He swallows. It’s slight, but it’s there.

I offered him the glass of wine. His eyes flickered to it, then he wordlessly raised his hands to my eye level to show he was chained.

Nodding, I pointed to the couch once more. “Sit. I’ll not ask again.”

“Or you’ll do what?” His voice was venom as he leaned in.

His actions and words spurred in me a panic of anger and I twisted my hand, flourishing the magic in the air. He groaned, bending forward, fighting it something fierce. But the magic had him and slowly he walked, grunting and yelling, step by step, until he plopped down on the settee.

I had to take sharp breaths as the lightheadedness overcame me. Obviously, I’d practiced using my magic, but never been against someone who fought it so violently. A soft tinge of musk and citrus filled the air. It emanated from him.

From the couch, he laughed. “Yes, drain yourself.”

I held on to the wall, then came to stand by him. He looked up, sweat matted his hair, and his blue eyes watched me with delight. He was going to fight me the entire time, wasn’t he?

With a trembling hand, I raised the glass of wine. “Drink.”

He smiled. It was hateful and vindictive. He raised his hands once more to show the chains. I decided to try something different. I took a step towards him and gently touched his head. This startled him and he dropped his smile, stiffening.

I ran my hands over his brown hair, curling my fingers into his strands. I was surprised to find it soft and inviting. Without warning, he yanked his head back.

“What are you doing?” There was anger, but there was also a slight tinge of fear. Panic pitted with confusion.

“Helping you drink,” I said and held his head. Slowly, I brought the cup to his lips. His breathing changed, and he strained against me, but I held him steady. “A small sip. You can manage it.”

He threw me one last rabid glance before he gulped the wine. I pulled back when I saw a small dribble course down his chin. I grabbed a small cloth from the table and dabbed his face with a smile. He was still as a stone of hate.

“Is it good? I love sweet wine.”

It didn’t feel normal to have these conversations with a shackled man. I hadn’t tamed him but leaving him free liberty to roam the room was unadvisable. When he didn’t respond, I sighed and sat myself across from him. His eyes were speared on me.