Demon King (Claimed By Lucifer Book 1)

by Elizabeth Briggs

  Demon King

  Claimed By Lucifer Book One

  Elizabeth Briggs

  Contents

  1. Hannah

  2. Lucifer

  3. Hannah

  4. Hannah

  5. Lucifer

  6. Hannah

  7. Hannah

  8. Lucifer

  9. Hannah

  10. Lucifer

  11. Hannah

  12. Lucifer

  13. Hannah

  14. Hannah

  15. Hannah

  16. Lucifer

  17. Hannah

  18. Hannah

  19. Hannah

  20. Lucifer

  21. Hannah

  22. Hannah

  23. Hannah

  24. Lucifer

  25. Hannah

  26. Hannah

  27. Lucifer

  28. Hannah

  29. Lucifer

  30. Hannah

  31. Lucifer

  32. Hannah

  33. Hannah

  Excerpt from Seraphim Academy 1: Wicked Wings - Excerpt

  About the Author

  1

  Hannah

  Only a desperate woman made a deal with the devil—and I was on my way to ask him for a favor.

  I couldn’t help but wring my hands while we went up, up, up in the elevator. Generic club music played softly in the background as I stared at the sleek mirrored walls and dark silver buttons, trying to avoid looking at the two imposing men either side of me. There was no escaping them. They filled the entirety of the space with their broad shoulders, thick necks, and well-pressed black suits, barely leaving me room to suck in a breath. They were hot as hell, just like everyone I’d seen in The Celestial Resort & Casino, but scary enough to make me wonder if coming here was a huge mistake.

  Who was I kidding? Of course it was a mistake. But it might be the only way to find my best friend.

  The elevator dinged, signaling we’d reached the penthouse, and when the door opened, I let out the breath I’d been holding. More models-turned-security guards stood outside a big, black, shiny door. As I stepped out of the elevator, that black door was thrown open and a man in a disheveled gray suit rushed out. His wide eyes were full of something like panic or fear, and he jostled hard against my shoulder as he tried to escape.

  “If you’re smart, you’ll turn around and run,” the guy yelled before one of the muscular guards grabbed him by the arm and dragged him toward the elevator. He didn’t even struggle, and soon the elevator door shut him in, barely droning out his last word. “Run!”

  I swallowed hard but steeled myself as I headed for the open door. Each footfall felt like one step closer to my doom. I glanced between the guards perched on either side of the door, but they barely acknowledged me as I walked through. I’d already gotten approval to speak with Mr. Ifer from a man in a suit downstairs, so I supposed they were expecting me.

  Just inside the door was a small foyer with a huge painting of stylized black wings spread wide on a pure white canvas. I knew little about art, but found myself staring up at it, drawn to the way the brush strokes looked like angry slashes.

  I shook myself and continued down the hall, along black marble floors with a touch of silver veining in them, and entered a large living room. The sight of expensive, black leather couches and a grand piano made me freeze. I’d expected to meet Lucas Ifer, CEO of Abaddon Inc and the rumored mob boss of Las Vegas, in his office, not his own home. Momentarily stunned by the sight of it all, I took in the backlit mirrored bar along one wall, the large, sleek fireplace across from it, and the floor-to-ceiling windows on the end with an impressive view of the Las Vegas Strip, not to mention the infinity pool on the balcony.

  The man I’d come to see leaned with his hand on one of those large windows, staring out at his domain like a brooding king. Or a kingpin, maybe. I could only see his profile, but it was striking enough to make my heart miss a beat. I cataloged him while I waited for his attention to land on me, as I didn't dare disturb such dark, dangerous perfection. An impeccable black suit framed broad shoulders and tapered down to narrow hips, before hugging a perfectly rounded ass. Sunlight kissed short, thick hair that looked almost black except for highlights of rich, chocolate brown. Below that, perfectly trimmed dark stubble accentuated a chiseled jaw, leading up to the cheekbones of a god.

  Whatever I’d expected from the man they called “the devil” in hushed whispers, it had not been this.

  “Come to ask for a favor?” His voice washed over me with a delicious British accent that somehow made his words sound both smart and sensual. “As you saw, it didn’t go so well for the last fellow. Then again, he tried to renege on our bargain. I trust you won’t do the same.”

  His words rolled off his tongue like sex and sin, but also reminded me why I was here. I shook my head a little to clear my thoughts and to snap out of the daze he’d put me in. “Yes, I am. Here for a favor, that is.”

  He turned from the window to face me, and the light and dark played over his face in the most beguiling way I’d ever seen. The full force of his presence hit me in the gut like a fire bursting into life from the strike of a match. Forget the men outside—they were nothing compared to him. I actually forgot how to breathe under the weight of those eyes, an emerald color I hadn’t realized was humanly possible until today. And that mouth…dear lord, was that a mouth made for sinning. I could already imagine it whispering naughty things in my ears before his lips left a trail of lust down my skin.

  Something about him was familiar too. I searched my limited memory for a time I could have met him, but surely I would’ve remembered someone this remarkably gorgeous. No. There was no way we’d met.

  Yet… I knew him somehow. Instinctively, primally, deep in the core of my being, he felt like something I… It was right on the tip of my tongue. The thought I couldn’t grasp before it slid away. I refocused, but it was no use. I couldn’t put my finger on it. Maybe I knew him from before the accident? Seemed unlikely, and surely if he knew me, he’d say something.

  I realized I was staring and jerked my gaze away, out over the view. Las Vegas in the daytime wasn't nearly as impressive as at night, when the city was lit up as if some preschoolers had sprinkled giant tubs of glitter over an expanse of desert. Even so, the bustling city against the backdrop of the mountains in the distance momentarily took all of my focus, giving me a second to gain my bearings again.

  “Tell me your name,” Lucas said.

  His voice, that accent, my god.

  “Hannah.” I finally met his eyes again. “Hannah Thorn.”

  “Hannah.” My name rolled off his tongue like a sip of expensive Scotch. I shook my head and blinked away the thought. I didn’t drink. Why would I think about the smooth burn of a drink I’d never had?

  He tore his eyes from me like it was difficult for him to do so. Almost as if he was drawn to me as much as I was to him. A fanciful notion, and one I immediately dismissed as he walked behind the bar.

  “Drink?” Lucas held up a decanter and a crystal tumbler that sent a rainbow of light shards bouncing around the room.

  “No thanks. I don’t drink.”

  He hummed low in his throat, a sound of dissent. “Pity. We could have a lot of fun if we got drunk together.”

  He reached for different glasses and shoveled ice into them. Three perfect cubes hit the sides of the glasses with a chinking sound. Then he grabbed a jug of clear liquid from under his counter, and I held up my hand in the universal gesture for stop.

  “I meant it. I don’t drink.”

  “And I don’t give alcohol to anyone who isn’t a willing recipient.” He picked up his g
lass and took a big swallow of the contents. “Sadly, just water.”

  He held the second glass out to me. As I wrapped my fingers around it, our hands brushed against each other, and the fire in my gut erupted again, sending heat all over my body and down to my core. The feeling that I knew Lucas redoubled, like a memory just outside my grasp, or a word on the tip of my tongue. And with it came a rush of desire so strong it took my breath away.

  His gaze intensified. Did he feel it too?

  “Sit.” Lucas gestured toward the black leather couches.

  I perched on the edge of one and held my glass in both hands, my grip tightening as my nerves stretched thin. Anxiety wound in my chest and mixed with the desire pooling between my thighs, making me feel light-headed. I glanced at the nearby piano, trying to bring my emotions back under control. This was all too big. Much too big. What the hell was I even doing here?

  Lucas sat on the couch across from me and spread one arm along the back. He rested an ankle on his knee in the perfect picture of poise and calm control. “Now, how can I be of assistance?”

  I took a deep breath, trying to channel some of that calm control for myself, even if I only pretended. I was perfectly happy to fake it, even if I would never make it. Not around someone so disarming.

  “My best friend is missing,” I blurted out. Way to fake poise. “Her name is Brandy Higgins. She was staying here, in this hotel, for a conference, but she never came home. I tried to find her myself, but I haven’t had any success, and when I went to the police they were dismissive. Especially when I told them she’d been staying here.”

  “You must be a very loyal friend. Very few are brave enough to ask me for a favor.” He looked at his drink and shook the ice around in the glass, the sound it made almost musical. “The rest are extremely desperate. I wonder, which one are you?”

  I glanced down at my hands, but then forced myself to meet his eyes, trying to channel bravery along with my desperation. “Both. Brandy is more than a friend. She’s like a sister to me, and she has a little kid and a sick mom at home counting on me to find her. I’ve been living with them ever since her divorce to help out, but if she doesn’t return…” The thought was too terrible for me to consider. I straightened my spine and stiffened my shoulders, shoving my anxiety into a tight ball in my chest as I faced Lucas with determination. “I heard you’re called the King of Las Vegas, and that nothing happens here without you knowing about it. I figure if anyone can find Brandy, it’s you.”

  I didn’t mention the other rumors I’d heard about him, like the fact that he was basically a mob boss who ran the city, and how people referred to him as the devil in nervous whispers and behind locked doors. Even the police seemed afraid of him.

  “You both sound like a proper pair of saints,” Lucas noted, his lips quirking at the corners. “You said she went missing here, in The Celestial?”

  “Yes, a few days ago.”

  He nodded slowly, like a man in no kind of a hurry, a man with nothing to lose and with the luxury of time on his side. Time I sure as hell didn't have. “You understand there is always a price for my help?”

  Panic wrapped an iron band around my chest, and I sucked in a shaky breath. I’d known this was coming, and I had no idea what he’d want in return for his help. “I don’t have any money.”

  “Oh, I don’t trade in money.” He laughed, but his face flashed with something villainous. “My currency is dark deeds and dirty secrets.”

  I swallowed hard and glanced at the hallway, wondering if it was too late to escape. I had no secrets, none that I remembered anyway, which meant he would want a dark deed of some kind. Would he ask for something illegal? Something dangerous? Something I would regret for the rest of my life? I nearly ran out the door, but then I pictured Brandy’s son looking up at me with barely contained tears as he asked when his mom was coming home, and my resolve hardened. I looked Lucas in the eye and nodded.

  He leaned forward, no longer casual. “Are you willing to do whatever it takes?”

  “Yes,” I said breathlessly. “What do you want?”

  “You.”

  My jaw dropped, and my stomach dropped lower. Possibly through the floor. All the floors. “Me?”

  He chuckled, the sound a dark melody full of wicked promises. “Six nights with you. Here in my penthouse. Mine to do with as I please.”

  I gasped at the sensual pause between each of his last three words. Then I shook my head, certain I’d misheard. Misunderstood perhaps. Yes, that last one. “Excuse me? You expect me to give you carte blanche to do anything to me? For six nights?”

  "Would you prefer seven?” A sinful grin crossed his lips as he leaned back against the soft leather of the couch. “I will warn you, I don't rest on the seventh day."

  “Seven?” My thoughts scrambled, and all I could do was stare at him. Was he serious?

  He nodded. “Yes, let’s make it seven nights. One for each deadly sin. Even better.”

  Shit. I really shouldn’t have questioned that six nights thing. I ran the scenarios through my head, my face warming as I saw many of them in glorious detail. Yes, the man was insanely attractive, but he was proposing something six degrees of indecent. Not to mention, he was a total stranger. A very gorgeous, very dangerous stranger. What he was asking of me…it was too much. Maybe there was some other way I could find Brandy. Someone else I could go to for help.

  Lucas watched me, waiting for my decision. "Tick-tock. Time is slipping away. The longer you wait, the less likely we’ll find your friend alive."

  Fear pulsed through me at the thought, but he was right. She’d already been missing for days. I needed to make a decision quickly, but I had to be sure about what I was getting myself into. I cleared my throat. “Let me get this straight. You want me to stay here with you for seven nights while you…do whatever you want to me. Sexually.”

  His gaze darkened to a glower, and I nearly trembled at the intensity of it. “I have never forced myself on a woman, and I never will, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

  A breath of relief left my lips. “I had to be sure. I’ve never done anything like this before.”

  “I promise no harm will come to you by my hand. But as for sex…” He rose to his feet and walked the few steps toward me, making me look up at him. Then he bent forward and rested his hands on the back of the couch on either side of my head, caging me in. “Don’t you know who I am? They call me the devil for a reason. Temptation, lust, sin, all wrapped up in a neat little package. Oh, who am I kidding? A huge package. Trust me, before the week ends you’ll be begging for every single thing I do to you.”

  He was entirely too close, his face inches from my own, his green eyes burning like a fire had been lit from within. Desire rushed through me like I’d never felt before, but it was mixed with a heavy dash of fear. My gaze dropped down to his mouth, only a breath apart from mine, and I ached for him to close the space between us, even as I wanted to run from him.

  I forced my eyes back up to meet his intense gaze. I couldn’t think of another way to find Brandy. I’d tried everything I could, but nothing had worked. If I didn’t do this, I’d fail completely.

  This was my last chance.

  “I agree,” I said, with as much courage as I could muster.

  "Excellent." He straightened up and walked to the other side of the room casually while my heart raced in my chest. He picked up a pad of paper and a pen, then handed them to me. “Write down everything you know about your friend’s disappearance. Names, dates, and so forth.”

  As I scribbled down all the details, apprehension making my handwriting look like someone else’s, he watched me closely. I kept glancing up as the pen scratched along the paper, unable to keep my eyes off him. Why did I feel like I was signing away my soul with our deal?

  When I’d written down everything I could think of, I gave him back his notepad and pen. He closed his hands around mine to take them, and heat shot down to pool between my thighs ag
ain. Unexpected longing rose in my chest, and I swallowed as I tried to bring order and coherence back to my thoughts.

  “Where are you staying?” he asked.

  “This cheap place off The Strip.” I looked away, embarrassed to say the name of it. I’d scrambled up every penny I had to come here, but it was nothing compared to this penthouse. "Double Down Motel.”

  His face twisted with disgust. "Give me your room key. I'll have all your things brought here.”

  “What about my car?” I asked.

  “My people will handle that as well.”

  I raised an eyebrow at that, but pulled out my keys and handed them to him. He had people? I thought people who had people were just a myth. Who actually had people to do shit for them?

  “Good.” He pocketed them and held out a hand. “Now follow me.”

  Every time I touched him I felt…things. I kept my hands to myself. “Where?”

  “To your new room.” His voice dripped with promise. “Though I suspect you’ll soon prefer mine."

  We walked down a corridor and he threw open a door at the end. Unlike the rest of the penthouse I’d seen so far, which was all decorated in black and silver, this room was done in neutral tones. The queen-sized bed had one of those padded headboards behind it and was covered in lush blankets, a thick duvet, and soft-looking pillows. On the other side of the room was a cute sitting area and a desk in front of windows looking out at The Strip. A door led to a walk-in closet as large as my old apartment, and another opened to a massive bathroom all done in Carrera marble.