Doomsday Brethren, Book 04: Entice Me at Twilight by Shayla Black Read Free Book Online

kiss her anyway. Deeply. Lips, tongues, clothes dropping to the floor as he lowered her to the bed …
    No, I must not think that about Mason’s bride
.
    “You will
not
embarrass Mason or your mother this way,” Felicia vowed in a low-voiced breath. “This stops now, or I’ll throw you out myself.”
    Too bad Duke was too distracted by the fact that, this close, he could see the glistening of Felicia’s pouty red lips under their gloss … and right down the front of her gown to the sweet swells of her breasts. Heat ripped through hisblood. Need compelled him.
Grab her. Take her. Possess her.
The words were a chant in his brain, loud and getting louder until he could scarcely remember why he was resisting.
    Honor. Family harmony.
    Damn it
. He sighed.
    Felicia gripped his elbow tighter and pursed her plump lips in displeasure. Bloody hell, she smelled like gardenia and woman. Duke only got harder. Blast it, he hoped his dinner jacket covered that. Somehow, he had to keep his hands to himself because her light floral-musky scent was driving him mad.
    “Are you listening?” she demanded.
    At his side, Ice cleared his throat and cast a sidelong glance at Felicia, then a meaningful glance at Duke’s magical signature. “We have a winner.”

CHAPTER 3

    F ELICIA GLARED AT H URSTGROVE , trying to rein in her temper. A sharp rebuke sat on the tip of her tongue. She pursed her lips together to hold it in, refusing to create an even bigger scene.
    God, but the man got under her skin. Moments ago, she and Mason had been in a quiet corner, and she’d been desperately trying to decide her future. Marry Mason … or not? She’d been interrupted by Hurstgrove’s antics. Even the friends he’d brought along caused gasps and raised brows. His blond chum had been intimidating enough, but she certainly would never have pictured His Grace running about with a tattooed, stubble-headed giant who looked more at home in back alleys. What the devil was going on?
    Hurstgrove stared back. Blood flooded her cheeks, and her chest rose harshly with each agitated breath. Unfortunately, her reaction wasn’t entirely fueled by anger. Though she released his arm, she still couldn’t manage to cool her sizzling blood.
    “You’re certain?” His Grace demanded of the other man, his mouth tight.
    The scary one crossed enormous arms over his chest, making one shoulder bulge through his filthy, torn sweater. “Yes. Sorry.”
    Hurstgrove clenched his fists and swore. Something grim and furious crossed his angular face.
    Felicia blinked, stared. Were they both touched in the head?
    “I’ve no notion what you’re on about with this ‘winner’ comment, but could you give us some privacy, please?” She glared at the black-clad ruffian.
    The burly man shot Hurstgrove a look she couldn’t decipher. “Duke?”
    Felicia frowned. Cheeky form of address.
    “It’s what my friends call me. A joke,” Hurstgrove explained, shoving his hands in his pockets. He tapped his toe in agitation. “Give us a minute, Ice.”
    “You have less than that. The clock is ticking,” he said, backing away.
    Felicia was inclined to like Ice a bit more when he shooed the hovering flock of women toward the chapel, leaving her and Hurstgrove alone.
    Grabbing hold of both her temper and her wayward response to him, she paced into the shadows of the corridor, out of sight of any passing wedding guest. He followed. As soon as he hovered above her, all wide shoulders and dark stare, she drew in a shaky breath. Why had she imagined shuttling into a dark corner with Hurstgrove was wise?
    She fought against the edgy awareness that cramped her belly. “Cease this appalling behavior. As if arriving late after a brawl wasn’t rude enough, your friends are wreaking havoc. I was attempting to sort through my future and—”
    “With the ceremony due to start any moment?” Hurstgrove looked at his watch.
    She bristled. Her indecision about marrying Mason was none of his