Masters of Seduction Volume 2: Books 5-8: Paranormal Romance Box Set
Page 5
She licked her lips, swallowing the tangled knot of guilt and fear that had lodged itself in her throat.
Sorin exhaled a slow sigh as he stroked her jawline, his thumb caressing the sensitive skin below her chin. “But I’m not a monster either. Before you think about testing me any more than you already have, I’m prepared to alter the terms of our deal.”
“What do you mean?” Her voice trembled somewhat as he continued to trace his fingers along her tingling skin. Her heart rate galloped, everything female in her captivated by the potency of his stare and the gentle coaxing of his touch. “Alter the terms…how?”
A smile slowly lifted the corner of his sensual mouth. “You owe me the night in my bed, and that’s a debt I fully intend to collect. But since you claim you don’t desire me, I propose a new wager.”
She didn’t trust that glimmer of a smile. It was too diabolical. Too classically Incubus. “Dare I hope, one that doesn’t require me to sleep with you?”
“Oh, this has nothing to do with sleeping.” Now he smirked. “You insist you don’t desire me—”
“I don’t.” The blurt lacked fire, even to her own ears. She tried again, giving her voice more steam. “I don’t care what we wagered tonight. I won’t ever want you.”
He inclined his head in acknowledgment. “And I am certain you do, and you will.”
He stepped closer to her, his large body and sinfully intoxicating scent sapping all of the air from the room. Ashayla had nowhere to go, no hope of escaping his demonic allure.
He didn’t touch her, but his hooded, knowing gaze was enough to ignite the embers of awareness that had been smoldering since she’d first laid eyes on him in the casino.
And he knew his effect on her. Knew it all along, and now he planned to put her to the test.
“Deny it all you want,” he murmured. “I’m willing to bet that before the sun rises, you’ll not only want me, you’ll be begging me to take you.”
“Ha.” She scoffed, hoping she sounded sufficiently appalled. “In your dreams.”
“So prove it. Resist me.” At her skeptical look, he gave a small shrug. “If you can, then in the morning you’re free to leave with the treasure you came here to steal from me.”
He knew? God, of course he knew. She wouldn’t insult him or herself by trying to deny it.
Still, she didn’t trust him. He was an Incubus, after all, and he already warned her that he was not a forgiving one.
“I don’t believe you. It sounds too easy.” She shook her head. “It sounds like a trick. You’re going to manipulate me somehow. Enthrall me?”
“No tricks,” he said. “No use of the thrall or any other means of coercion or force. Just you and me, Asha. In my bed. For the rest of the night.”
“You’re serious.” Was he really going to make it so simple for her? Sure, he was attractive. Seductive, even. But she was determined to walk out of this situation with her pride intact. And she would do anything—resist anything—to bring Gran’s pendant home to her.
“All right, then. Deal.” She thrust out her hand to him. “I accept.”
“Good.” He took her fingers into a firm, warm grasp that didn’t let up for a long moment. Those fiery topaz eyes bored into her, full of confidence and wicked determination. “Make no mistake, though. Before dawn, I promise I will make love to you, Asha.” He drew her closer, until her breasts mashed against the hard, muscled planes of his chest.
Lowering his head to hers, he spoke in a velvety growl, his lips nearly brushing hers with each illicit word. “I mean to have my cock inside you, my name rolling off your tongue on a pleasured scream. But I will accept your submission through free will and nothing less.”
He kissed her then, just the lightest, teasing nip at her mouth, and she nearly combusted where she stood. Desire flooded her body and limbs. Her pulse galloped, and everything female in her arced toward him for more. More contact. More heat. More inflaming promises of what he wanted to do with her.
Oh, God. She was doomed.
She closed her eyes, wishing for a deeper kiss even as her survival instincts howled in alarm.
Sorin’s breath gusted against her on a low curse. His hand went around to her nape, guiding her deeper into his embrace, deeper into his consuming heat. Then his mouth came down on hers, gently this time. Reverently.
Ashayla couldn’t think.
She couldn’t summon even a shred of resistance…
Until she realized they weren’t alone in the room anymore. Someone cleared his throat behind them near the open double doors.
Sorin tore his mouth away from hers on a snarl. “What is it?”
A handsome, elegantly suited Incubus with short golden hair and breathtaking features not unlike Sorin’s stood in the doorway. Ashayla recognized him as one of the people gathered in the salon when she and Sorin walked past a short while ago. He took his time looking at her now, his expression curious, questioning. Friendlier than Sorin’s could ever be.
“Radu,” Sorin acknowledged. All the passion of a moment ago was instantly replaced with a different kind of tension now. “Has there been any change in him, brother?”
The other male gave a grim nod. “He’s awake. He’s pissed as hell.” Dread and weariness edged his voice. “He’s calling for you, Sorin.”
CHAPTER SEVEN
Sorin raked a hand through his hair and blew out a sharp sigh.
He couldn’t ignore the unpleasantness that awaited him elsewhere in the family stronghold, but he didn’t have time to stow his pretty guest somewhere while he took care of the problem.
He sure as hell wasn’t about to leave Ashayla with his charming, better looking younger brother. Radu was already having a hard enough time taking his eyes off the stunning blond Nephilim. While Sorin was arguably not the most suitable protector of her virtue, he’d be damned before he let his shameless sibling get within arm’s length of her.
“I’ll handle it.” He took Asha’s hand in his, and on a muttered curse swept past Radu with her in tow. “Tell Milo to meet me outside the chamber.”
Asha’s long-legged stride kept up with Sorin easily, but he could feel her confusion in every step they took together. “What’s going on?”
He doubted she’d really wish to know. He could only imagine what was going on in the chamber where they were heading. They had barely turned the corner of the long corridor that led to the private cell when a tremendous, animalistic howl shook the floor beneath their feet.
Ashayla startled, throwing him a wild glance. “What was that?”
“My father.”
She didn’t ask anything more, not even when another furious roar erupted from within the closed chamber. Sorin brought her to a halt outside the barred door and turned to face her stricken expression. Milo arrived at that same moment, the captain of the Watchmen giving Sorin a knowing nod as another crazed shout went up, followed by the crash of something shattering against the floor.
“Take her to my quarters. Wait with her there,” he instructed the guard. To Asha he said, “You’ll be safe with Milo. He’ll look after you until I’m through here.”
“Um, okay.” She seemed to consider for a moment. Then she stunned him by reaching out to place her hand on his forearm. Her light touch was tender, halting. “What about you, Sorin?”
“What about me?” He scowled as a litany of foul curses sounded on the other side of the heavy door.
“Will you be safe in there?”
Her question took him aback completely. He stroked the side of her face.
No one ever worried for him. He was a formidable male. A powerful Incubus, the Master of his House. The eldest son, he’d been the one expected to shoulder every responsibility and problem without hesitation or failure.
So he had, all his life. Never questioning his role. Never requiring accolades or soft reassurances.
And yet here was this woman who’d been little more than a name on paper to him until tonight—a beautiful, courageous woman whom
he’d given little cause to care what might happen to him—looking at him now with genuine concern.
He wanted nothing more than to pull her into his arms and kiss her just then. Hell, he wanted to do a lot more than that. And he would, as promised, before the night was over.
But right now his duty called him to deal with the bitter old demon imprisoned in the room behind him.
Pivoting around, he released the heavy lock bar and opened the door. The room inside was dark, but not dark enough to conceal the shriveled form standing in the center of the large chamber in loose-fitting linen pants and a long tunic.
And not dark enough to conceal the gaunt face and wild eyes of the madman who’d been Ebarron’s Master for centuries, until Sorin forcibly took his seat a year ago.
Behind him, Asha let out a small gasp. Sorin turned back to her, caressing her cheek on a throttled growl. “Go with Milo. You don’t need to worry about me.”
~
He was gone for more than an hour.
Ashayla sat on an oxblood leather sofa in a large salon inside what she assumed was Sorin’s private apartments in the massive Ebarron stronghold. His Watchman waited with her in measured silence, standing across the room like a statue until the door opened and Sorin strode inside.
He was scowling fiercely, but to Ashayla he seemed more weary than anything else. His broad mouth was drawn at the corners, his sharp topaz eyes dulled with fatigue and stress. He dismissed Milo in hushed tones, then closed the door behind him as the Watchman departed.
“I need a shower,” he murmured, scrubbing a hand over his head and jaw. He arched a brow at her in invitation. “You’re welcome to join me, if you like.”
He was trying to be light and casual, trying to return to their banter from before he’d been summoned to his father’s heavily locked room. She couldn’t play along after what she’d heard and seen outside that chamber, but she followed him into the adjacent bedroom. “Is he all right, Sorin?”
“He’s insane, as you might’ve guessed. And he’s furious with me for petitioning the rest of the family to see him ousted from power as Master of Ebarron, so I could take control.”
“Why did you do it?”
“It was best for the House.” His tone held little inflection. When he pivoted to face her, as guarded as his expression was, she also saw weariness. There was a sadness in his grim features that she suspected he let few others see in him. “My mother was the one who asked me to challenge my father’s seat as Master. She came to me two years ago—not long before she died—and pleaded for me to step in.”
“Because he wasn’t well?” Ashayla guessed.
Sorin nodded. “That had long been a concern of hers, yes. Mine as well. But also because now more than ever, the Incubi Houses need to be strong, united. If the angels in their Conclave and the Three in their temple are plotting an insurrection, or manipulating our Sovereign to light the first spark, then we all need to be ready for what comes next.”
“You’re talking about war between the Incubi and the angels?”
“If the Houses don’t stop it first, Asha, I could be talking about war between Heaven and Hell.”
She swallowed the dread that crept up her throat. Although her life in Chicago was far removed from the one Sorin referred to, she knew enough from talking with Gran over the years to understand the danger of corruption on the Obsidian Throne, the highest seat of power in the Incubi and Nephilim realms. The Incubus who ruled from it as the Sovereign held authority over the portals of both Heaven and Hell. If the Throne were to fall, there would be no holding back the chaos that would follow.
Sorin gave a grim shake of his head. “My mother loved my father as only a mate can, but she also loved Ebarron and wanted the House to thrive for future generations. I had no interest in serving as its Master, least of all while my father was still alive. But she was right. Duty comes first. The House and all who live under its protection come before anyone else. So, I presented my case before my brothers and cousins and they agreed that I should step in.”
“How did your father take the news when your mother told him what she’d done?”
Sorin gave a vague shrug. “He doesn’t know. She didn’t want him to know it was her idea, so neither of us told him and no one else knew. My mother was killed a few months later, when her car swerved off one of the mountain passes. After she was gone, I didn’t see the point in tarnishing his feelings toward her.”
“But he thinks it was you, Sorin. He thinks it was your idea to push him out of the way.” Ashayla shook her head. “Why let him think the worst of you?”
“It would’ve destroyed him more to know that she felt him unfit to lead. He was bad off already. I saw no need to add fuel to the fire.”
Sorin spoke like a man used to shouldering heavy burdens without complaint. His actions seemed equally unfazed. She watched as he began to undress, his suit coat slung over the back of a chair across from the bed before he started unbuttoning his white shirt.
“Your father looks very weak. Is he dying too?”
He nodded gravely. “His madness worsened after my mother died. He probably doesn’t have much time left now. The family’s looked after his comfort as best we can, but it’s…difficult.”
“I’m sorry.” Ashayla had heard about the mating bond between Incubi and Nephilim, of course. It was eternal, and since Incubi relied on their Nephilim mates exclusively for sustenance, separations were almost always a fatal sentence for the one left behind. “Sorin, I’m sorry for him and for everything you’re dealing with.”
She felt awful now, as selfish and unreasonable as she had believed Sorin to be. She’d been so obsessed with making Gran happy by getting her heirloom back, Ashayla never stopped to consider the burdens Sorin might be faced with as Master of Ebarron House.
He had his own personal struggles to contend with, his duties as head of his family and their business interests, all of it compounded by the demands and increasingly dangerous politics surrounding the fate of the Obsidian Throne.
Sorin shrugged, then stripped off his shirt. Although she hadn’t intended to let her gaze stray so long on his body at that moment, it was impossible not to notice the magnificence of him. She’d suspected he’d be big and athletic and gorgeous underneath his refined clothing, and he was. Beyond gorgeous. Smooth, golden skin wrapped bulky shoulders and beefy pectorals. His chest was broad and strong, his abdomen rippled with lean muscle.
She couldn’t keep her mouth from watering at the sight of him. Her cheeks flamed, and a liquid yearning pooled in the center of her being. No doubt about it, this male had been made for sin.
When he reached for his belt and zipper, she had to remind herself that she wasn’t interested. More to the point, she was determined to hold him to their new bargain, so the less she warmed up to him—the less she saw of his magnificent body—the better.
At his knowing glance, she forced herself to look away. “I’ll, ah…I’ll be in the other room.”
Damn him for chuckling as she pivoted on her heel and practically fled out of his presence.
She resumed her seat in the salon as the water hissed on in the en suite bathroom. She absolutely did not want to picture Sorin Ebarron lathering up naked under the spray, but no sooner had she told herself to avoid thinking about it than her mind eagerly went to work flooding her head with a vivid play-by-play.
Ashayla stood up and started to pace the hand-woven rugs in her tall, high-heeled boots. Would he come out of the shower and begin his seduction of her? He promised not to force her in any way, but how could she be absolutely certain of that? Could she trust him at his word alone?
What would he do if he discovered the vial of Nephilim magic secreted in her boot? Dread went tight in her chest. He would be furious, for sure.
What if he took the vial from her?
It was a risk she couldn’t chance, even if she fully intended to win Gran’s pendant back according to the terms of Sorin’s new deal.
A collection of trinkets and masculine jewelry lay in a small tray on the bureau, much of it bearing the Ebarron griffin sigil. His closet was a room of its own, filled with suits and other fine clothing befitting a rich, spoiled playboy.
Yet he wasn’t at all how he appeared on the surface.
She was seeing that now. He was a complicated man living a complicated life. A solitary life, despite the family members who occupied the Ebarron stronghold with him and the business that kept him surrounded by beautiful people every night.
Not to mention all of the adoring female companions a man like him was certain to attract wherever he went.
Why that thought should put a twinge of disapproval in her breast, she had no idea.
“Already making yourself at home, I see.”
Sorin’s deep voice made her spin around to face him.
And, oh, God…that was a terrible mistake.
He stood there with a white towel in hand, but the rest of him was absolutely, gloriously naked. His golden hair was slicked back off his face, still wet, curling at the ends that kissed his strong neck. His smooth skin glistened with tiny droplets of water that just begged to be licked off him.
Every inch of him was perfectly carved, from his broad shoulders to his powerful chest, trim waist, and long, muscular legs. Good lord, even his feet were beautiful. His physical perfection bordered on angelic, he was so delectably formed.
But if there was any doubt this demon male had been spawned for a carnal existence, his cock left no question at all.
It jutted out fully erect, as large and magnificent as the rest of him.
Desire kindled low in her belly, turning her insides to melted heat. Her sex clenched with need, pulse throbbing with a sudden, heavy beat, as if all of her female senses recognized what they wanted even as she struggled to deny it.