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you, Special Agent Nicholas. I own you now. No one,
not even the FBI, knows where you are, knows that I have you, which gives me
more pleasure than you can know.”
    Gordon Templeton glared at her and then his eyes settled on
Asmodeus with evident displeasure.
    A terrible anger and satisfaction had filled his voice and
chilled Gabriel to the bone. He was working himself up to something.
    Templeton’s voice dropped to nearly a whisper. “When he’s
done with you though, I’ll have you. And I’ll use you until you grovel just at
the sound of my voice.”
    Although her skin crawled at the thought, Gabriel just
looked at him and yawned, to all appearances bored. She had heard many threats
like that over the years.
    By her feet, she heard Asmodeus smother a furious growl. His
impotent rage, his despair, beat at her.
    Curious, she shot a thought at him, Templeton would only
suffer by comparison, Asmodeus. To her surprise, she sensed his spirits
lighten a little.
    She hadn’t imagined it—she had heard his voice.
    A gift of my kiss , he explained softly, mind to mind,
as the memory of his fangs as they pierced her flesh went through his mind in a
flash of heat and into hers. Of my venom.
    So she had felt the effects of something else. Venom.
    Gabriel remembered it coursing through her veins, the fiery
heat of it as it flooded her body with delicious pleasure even while his spirit
had opened to hers. And hers to his. Although she hadn’t understood that then.
    His dark eyes furious, Templeton held out a hand to one of
the minions who had followed him through the gateway in the rings.
    “You though, Asmodeus, must be punished for your defiance.”
    That minion slapped what looked very much like a
cat-o’-nine-tails into Templeton’s hands.
    Gabriel stiffened, horrified by the vicious thing.
    This was what Templeton had been working himself up to do.
    It was a horrific-looking implement. There was a short
handle to which were attached a number of tightly woven, long, supple leather
thongs, each secured at the tip with a thick bead of iron.
    For the first time Gabriel noticed the condition of
Asmodeus’ back, the ridged scars on his red flesh, the darker stripes there.
They had done this to him before. He had felt the lash of that thing already.
    Asmodeus.
    Her throat tightened in horror as she realized what it was
they were about to do.
     
    At the sight of the whip, Asmodeus gritted his teeth and
resigned himself to endure. If he were free, able to defend himself, this man
would never dare touch him, would not be able to touch him…but he was not.
    My angel. Do nothing. You cannot stop this.
    It was a comfort for him in a way, to sense her concern, to
know she feared for him, hurt for him. Still, another kind of fear shot through
him.
    Fiercely, he sent, As you love me, do not give them
another weapon to use against me, mishea .
    If she fought, he would have to fight as well, despite the geas , he would have to try to defend her, to fight beside her. If they knew
she cared, if they knew he did—more than cared—they would use her as a weapon
against him.
    “You will learn, demon,” Templeton said, furiously, “not to
deny me or defy me.”
    The whip lashed down with a harsh whistling sound and the iron
beads at the ends tore into the flesh of Asmodeus’ back.
    Pain seared through him as the whip sliced like fire across
his flesh, each of the iron beads like white-hot embers as they struck his
skin, caught, burned and tore—a coda of additional agony at the end of each
lash.
     
    The shock of Asmodeus’ words scorched Gabriel to her soul.
Rocked her almost as much as the echo of pain in her own back as the whip
burned across his shoulders. She caught her breath at the pain and at his
words.
    As you love me , he had said.
    Could she? Was that even possible? Her heart wrenched. How
long had she looked for that and yet never found it? She couldn’t deny that
something in him called to her, had called to her from the