Wicked Enchantment by Anya Bast Page A

begun. Gabriel had asked her to dance.
    And he was standing too close.
    The last time they’d danced she’d been this close, but it had been different because she hadn’t felt quite the same way toward him—such a jumbled mess of fear and desire. Maybe she’d finally become intoxicated by incubus magick, finally succumbing to whatever sexual power he wielded unknowingly.
    Surely that had to be it. No way had she come to this on her own.
    His hand was around her waist and he’d pulled her flush up against his chest. He was much taller than her, even in her stiletto heels, so her chin didn’t quite fit over his shoulder. Instead she was forced to either lay her head on his upper chest or look up into his face, which seemed intimate since he liked to dip his face close to hers from time to time—lips almost touching.
    Their hips were moving together with the music. Sway, thrust, sway. A little like sex.
    Aislinn really wished she could stop thinking about sex. But as long as she could feel his muscled chest against hers and his cock pressing against her pelvis, that wasn’t happening. He had an erection and she had probably caused it. The thought that she affected him that way brought a hard flush to her face and made something low in her stomach flutter and roll.
    Tonight he wore a pair of black pants and a beautiful, probably very expensive, black shirt. Dark colors seemed to be his preference and they worked for him. They set off his eyes and accentuated the glossy fall of his hair. The sheer physical beauty of this man seemed to fit his special brand of magick, making him even more lethal to the women he encountered.
    She was sure the Summer Queen would grant his petition. No one could deny the temptation of rich, sinful chocolate, and that was Gabriel Cionaodh Marcus Mac Braire.
    She wondered about his father, a pure-blood incubus, wondered if Gabriel looked like him or more like his mother. She’d noticed the loathing in his voice when he spoke of his father so she hoped, for his sake, it was his mother he resembled. That conversation had revealed depth to Gabriel—depths she wanted to explore further.
    Had that been when her attraction to him had grown deeper? Not a good thought because that would mean it was authentic and not just false fae magick.
    She surveyed the rest of the throng. Dancers talked and laughed, twirled and swayed. Lovers rested heads on shoulders. Colors swirled as the women paraded like peacocks. It was like this so often at Seelie Court. This glittering world was consumed with the show—with thinness, wealth, social interaction, parties, and balls. It grew boring for Aislinn, but seemingly she was the only one who thought so.
    Faemous crew circulated here and there, interviewing partygoers for the human world that purportedly found them so fascinating and frightening in equal measure.
    Kendal had never thought the Rose boring, but he was a social climber, whereas Aislinn was not, much to her mother’s chagrin. Of course, in hindsight, now she understood the only reason he’d ever been with her had been because of her name and her ranking. He’d never loved her. He’d only lied to her.
    She was sick of liars and frauds. Sick of being used. Therefore, she could never bring herself to use Gabriel, no matter how tempting the prospect.
    Not even if he wanted to be used.
    She surveyed the throng, knowing she’d find Kendal. Indeed, there he was, over by the edge of the dance floor talking with Erianne and shooting her his trademark grin, the very one he’d used on her in the beginning. So Erianne was his new conquest. Fine. She wouldn’t allow it to pinch her.
    “What’s wrong?” Gabriel asked, then spun her to the right to follow her gaze. He spun her back, making a scoffing sound. “Don’t let that dick get you down. He’s not worth it.”
    “Tell that to my heart,” she said before she realized the words had slipped out.
    “Did you love him? Really?” He frowned. “I can