Fated Bonds: Angel's Fate [Book 1] by Tessa Cole

Author:Tessa Cole [Cole, Tessa]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Gryphon's Gate Publishing
Published: 2019-12-24T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter 12

Amiah

Desire throbbed between my thighs as if proving the point that I no longer had any restraint, and the hellfire in the incubus’s eyes swelled.

“You moved your tent,” Sebastian said.

“I got pushed out by a blood witch.” Hawk gave a sensual shrug, his gaze never leaving mine. “You here on business?”

“Yeah.” Sebastian drew closer — and as a result, drew me closer.

My pulse beat even faster and I struggled to get myself back under control. I’d been around incubi before. This shouldn’t be that difficult.

“Well, then.” Hawk raised the flap on his tent and gestured for us to enter.

A whisper of fear fluttered through my chest, chilling my desire. I didn’t want to go inside even though I knew it wasn’t that tent. Cassius had burned it almost a hundred years ago, and if he hadn’t killed the human who’d enslaved me, that human would still be long dead, not here in Left of Lincoln.

The thought made me furious.

All these years later and that human was still controlling me. How many times was I going to have to tell myself I was strong, I was in control, I was free, before my soul believed it?

And maybe yesterday I would have believed it.

But today, I wasn’t free.

I was magically bound to Titus and soon I’d be magically bound to someone else if Sebastian couldn’t remove my mating brand.

Well, the first problem I could take care of. It was just a matter of going inside that tent. And the sooner I dealt with the leash spell, the sooner Sebastian could get to work on my brand.

Sebastian frowned and tugged gently on my arm, urging me forward and making embarrassment heat my cheeks. I’d hesitated for too long and now he knew something was wrong.

Fighting the urge to straighten my back — that would give me away even more — I made myself enter with him.

Inside was completely different to the traveling faith healer’s tent from my past. That man had tried to portray a pious nature — even though he was nothing of the sort. He’d kept a clean tent with a simple cot for my patients during the day and him at night, a table with his bible, a wash basin, clean rags, and a locked chest filled with stones that was too heavy to move, which he chained my ankle to during the night.

Hawk’s tent was stuffed with multi-colored pillows, Persian rugs, and gauzy curtains. The morning sun shone fully on the tent top, providing more than enough light to see clearly, and yet the space still had a soft, intimate feel. The temperature was also comfortable — most likely cooled by magic. A large chest with an intricate design carved into its wooden surface sat at the back, and a low table sat in the center. At the edge of the table, on a metal tray, was a pitcher of pale yellow liquid with condensation beading on its glass surface along with two delicate wine glasses beside it.

Hawk

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