By getting up close and personal with her particular pair of sharp, pointy teeth.
That should dampen his ardor well into the next millennium.
"Look, let's just get this over with, all right?" Gabriel snapped. "Only be quick about it. And try not to leave a mark or anything." He'd never been big on hickeys. Bite marks, in his opinion, fell into that general category. Especially when he wasn't getting a damned thing out of the experience, Gabriel thought irritably. Still, if nothing else, he was a man of his word. He closed the small remaining distance between himself and Rowan, leaned down so that his neck would be easy to access, and closed his eyes, anticipating the pinch of her teeth. He waited as a few seconds passed ... then a few more. But it wasn't teeth he finally felt, just the warm tickle of breath against his skin. Her tone, however, was arctic.
"What exactly do you think you're doing?"
Gabriel pulled back just enough to frown at her. "Letting you bite me."
She frowned back at him. "I don't want to bite you, thanks."
"Your brother ..."
"Worries too much, and is lately obnoxious about it. Look," she said, pushing her hair back in an agitated gesture and huffing out a breath, "I don't care what Bastian told you, or made you promise, or made you sign in pig's blood. I'm not hungry; I'm just tired, which requires you to leave rather than presenting yourself as dinner. But, you know, thanks. Really." She waited a beat, eyebrows raised expectantly. "Good night, Gabriel."
Damn her, but that spicy, intoxicating scent she carried with her was beginning to affect him again, clouding his brain just when he needed his wits about him. Because if the hostility in her expression was any indication, he was going to have to make her do what he didn't really want her to in the first place. Though it was futile, he wished desperately he'd gone home days ago and was curled up in his own bed with some luscious, willing blonde who didn't make his head feel like it was going to explode.
"I gave my word," Gabriel began, in a tone he might use with a young, tantrum-prone child.
She glowered. "Not to me, you didn't."
"I intend to keep it," he continued as he began to lose his patience. "I don't like it any better than you do, by the way, but there's nothing for it. I know you're starving. I may not be able to fix your personality problem, but I can fix that. So I'm going to indulge your nasty little habit so that your brother can come back to something other than your corpse. Now bite me, damn it. You're not the only one who wants to go to bed."
She looked outraged, crossing her arms over her chest and glaring murderously at him. "My 'nasty little habit' is what keeps me alive, you insufferable jackass. And if that's how you feel, you can absolutely forget me ever doing you the honor of drinking from you."
Gabriel snorted. "If that's considered an honor, I've found yet another reason to never cross into your world. But be that as it may, I'm afraid we're both going to have to make do."
Her expression turned mulish. "No."
"Yes."
"No."
"Oh, for the love of ... this is ridiculous!" Gabriel snapped with an impatient wave of his hands. And finally, for whatever reason (his visible stress being the most likely), Rowan smiled. It had a wicked edge to it that left him feeling slightly weak in the knees.
"I haven't even gotten started," she informed him. She spoke with the self-satisfied air of one who had won many a bloody war of words. Unfortunately for her, though, he had no intention of continuing to spar with her verbally. Sometimes fighting dirty was the only option.
With no warning, he advanced on her. Gabriel was darkly satisfied when this time she backed up, stopping only when she hit the edge of the bed. "You're going to bite me so we can both get some sleep," he informed her, letting her know with his tone that he would brook no refusals. A low, sinister noise reached his ears in reply.
"Are you ... are you growling at me, woman?" He stared at her curiously, this being an utterly new one on him. He'd had women throw things at him, curse at him, and threaten to send him to the devil himself, but not a one had ever growled at him. Not since he was just a young pup, at any rate, and the few female cousins he'd played with had hardly qualified as women at the time. Gabriel cocked his head, considering. It was actually sort of erotic.
And he really needed to get this over with before he lost what was left of his mind.
Rowan glared at him, her jade green eyes so hot he wouldn't have been surprised if they'd started shooting off sparks. "I'm telling you to get the hell out of my room before I make you. I'm. Not. Interested. Now for the love of the Goddess, go away. The last thing I need is some mangy shifter dogging my heels and trying to fill in for my brother, who, I might add, has no right to order me around anyway. You and your kind, Gabriel MacInnes, have less. I'm only here until I can get back home, I only care about defeating the Andrakkar in the most violent way I can think of, and what I really need is sleep. Are we now clear?"
Her chest rose and fell rapidly in her anger, and a light flush had suffused skin that was the color of cool alabaster. Her nostrils flared faintly, and the lush lips she was using to hurl invectives at him were pursed tightly. As he supposed she'd intended, Rowan now had Gabriel's undivided attention. He doubted, however, that its nuances would please her. The thought made him smile, what he knew was a big, Wolfish grin. Battling her was proving to be a twisted pleasure, but his instincts told him she was in no shape to refuse him. It was time to go in for the kill.
"All that may be true, but you're our guest. We're not going to let such an exalted guest starve to death. You need blood. I happen to have some. And as I've already mentioned, I gave your brother my word. I'm not going back on it."
Her eyes widened and her gaze darted past him, around the room, looking for escape. Gabriel closed in on her, knowing there was none. She must truly be weak, he knew, if she hadn't any magic to throw in a last-ditch effort to stop him. Part of him hated to force her. The other part was entirely focused on the scent of delicious, desirable prey, ready to be taken down.
"I ... I don't want your blood. I haven't been able to drink human blood," she stammered, her unease finally showing through. "It makes me sick."
"Ah, but you forget. I'm not human," he replied, stopping only when he was so close that their bodies were almost touching. "And I insist."
She was cornered.
Rowan stood seething as Gabriel MacInnes smirked down at her, acting even more overbearing than Bastian had become since the attack. It was a feat she hadn't thought possible, but this shifter was surprising her at every turn, and not, she decided with clenched jaw, in a good way. If only she had an ounce of power left in her. But as the room tilted slightly again, challenging her balance enough to make her worry that her captor had seen her wobble, Rowan knew without a doubt that it was gone.
Blood magic. The Dyadd's gift, and their curse. Before the Andrakkar had come for them, she'd had it in abundance. Rowan wistfully remembered calling down a rain of stars, joining with her sisters to create a pillar of white fire to celebrate the Fertility Rite. In those days, her only true complaint had been that her own particular gifts seemed tailored more for destruction than helping the villagers who so depended on them, despite her mother's assurances that her abilities were greater than she knew. But that time was long past, and from the way Gabriel was now dealing with her, she was sure he knew it.
If only she could be certain she wouldn't react to his blood the same way she had to the "gift" the vampires had given her.
The man, as she remembered, had been what the vampires had laughingly called thralled, his mind clouded and convinced that he wanted to be bitten. And yet, when she had reluctantly begun to drink, the life force that ran through his blood had screamed through her own body in horror until she'd had to ran from the room. She'd been violently ill for hours, Rowan remembered with a shudder. And the taunting laughter of creatures that were her distant kin echoed in her memory still.
Only a monster could drink fear. She, Rowan an Morgaine, was many things, but monster was not one of them. But for the Dyadd's sake, and for Bastian's, she knew she would have to try.
She was no use to anyone otherwise, least of all herself.
"Fine," she finally snapped, suppressing another growl. The last thing she needed right now was for him to smile again. She wanted to focus on the unpleasant task at hand and be done with it. Gabriel MacInnes excited her in a way a man such as he definitely should not, and the closer he got, the more unsettled she became. Just now he'd looked like he wanted to devour her. And for a moment, lust a very quick weak moment, she'd wanted to let him. It was nothing, Rowan told herself firmly.
And yet her mouth went instantly dry as she watched the pulse in the hollow of his throat beat quickly and steadily. Rowan swallowed, and it felt like a rock had lodged in the desert of her throat. She could smell him now, the living essence of him, blood and earth and wilderness, man and animal joined. It was raw, and male, and brutally arousing to Rowan's deprived senses.
And now, though she could hardly bear to let herself, she began to truly want.
"Well? Do you think you could get it over with?" He had his eyes shut tight, so Rowan let herself truly smile. He so obviously found this distasteful, and yet he was going to let what he considered his natural enemy sink her teeth into his neck, all for a hastily given promise. Had he fallen at her feet in her old life, she realized with a twinge of regret, she would have gladly taken him to her bed, though she gave into the erotic impulse that feeding provoked only seldom. She would have let him run those strong hands over her body, stoking her inner flame until both of them were consumed in the heat. There was something about him that pulled at her; that she could admit now with no one able to read it in her expression. But the heat in his eyes when he looked at her, the raw desire to possess so clearly written there. That sort of need was something she didn't understand, and didn't want. It was too close. Too close to the things Elara, her mother, had always warned would cause her pain.