Rise of the Gryphon by Sherrilyn Kenyon, Dianna Love

men.
    “Oh. Okay.” Hooking her glasses in the opening ofher shirt, she slapped her hands over her ears and closed her eyes.
    As if the real Evalle would go along with anything that easily?
    Keeping his voice soft, he immediately started chanting words he’d learned among the Ashaninka tribe where he’d grown up, and moved in a slow circle around her.
    By the time he reached her front again, her smile had deteriorated into a flat line of discontent. A crease formed at the bridge of her nose with her concentration.
    His words were getting past her hands. She was hearing him.
    Her eyes flew open, glaring with promise of retaliation. She dropped her hands and balled them into fists. “You lied to me.”
    He kept chanting, his voice growing stronger.
    It wasn’t working.
    Storm could feel the bone’s power fighting him, trying to push him away. Moving back a step out of her reach, he shouted native words in his chant, telling the bone, “You can’t have her. She’s mine .”
    She took a step toward him, fists cocked. “Stop it. I told you to never use your majik on me.”
    True. He’d just broken his word, but he’d do far worse to guard her from harm. His chants were loud now, harsh, biting sounds he forced power into, rushing the spell.
    “Damn you!” She dove at him, hands stretched out toward his neck.
    Just as he raised his arms to deflect her hands, Evalle’s face changed in midflight from fury to confusion. He caught her when she fell against him, limp from the sudden loss of the unknown power. Chugging in deep breaths, he lifted her up and hugged her close, whispering words to soothe her.
    She panted and trembled as if she’d run to the top of Mount Everest.
    Their hearts beat in a staccato, so fast he couldn’t tell his from hers. She got her footing and tightened her grip on his arms, then pushed up to bear her own weight. He let her ease back, but he held on, watching a mix of emotions flash through her eyes until one came through clearly. Humiliation.
    Damn that witch to an eternal hell.
    He couldn’t let go of Evalle yet, not with her looking at him as though she’d degraded herself.
    She drew in a deep breath and said, “That was—”
    “Not you, sweetheart. It’s that freakin’ bone. It started to influence you as soon as it wrapped around your arm back at the Beast Club.”
    Evalle looked down at her wrist then back at him. “What’s it doing?”
    “Imogenia said unless you intended to use it for dark arts it only enhances your desire. I’m guessing it amplifies or boosts your intention to get what you want. I think when you want something, the bone drives more power into that want until it overrides everything else, demanding you fulfill the urge or desire above all.”
    Nodding her head, she looked away, eyes glancinghere and there. “I can’t tell when anything changes. I need to figure out when the Volonte’s power is taking over.”
    He thought on that and recalled how her skin had turned to fire as he held her. “Try to notice when your skin heats up. I could feel it getting hotter as that armband influenced you.”
    She lifted her gaze back to his with a wry smile tilting her lips. “Sure that wasn’t your influence?”
    Glad to hear the amusement in her voice after what she’d just gone through, he leaned close, inhaling her delicious scent. “You’ll know when it’s me, and I’ll make you hot in a far better way.”
    She shivered, and he knew damn well she wasn’t cold.
    “Careful,” she warned. “Or we’ll be right back where we started.” But she’d said that in a breathless voice that was so damned sexy it rode along his senses, stroking him even harder.
    Evalle whispered, “What’d you do to . . . uhm, stop me from attacking you a minute ago?”
    That broke the tension threatening to snap his body in half. He sucked in a deep breath and straightened away from her, anything to keep from pulling her up against him. “I used a spell to wrap you and