Total pages in book: 55
Estimated words: 51407 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 257(@200wpm)___ 206(@250wpm)___ 171(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 51407 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 257(@200wpm)___ 206(@250wpm)___ 171(@300wpm)
It’s not true submission, not with her guiding me with a tension that has the flavor of silent command. I eagerly follow, thrusting my tongue into her before rolling the flat of it against her vibrating clit just the way she showed me she likes. It’s only a few moments before her thighs go tight on either side of my head and she comes all over my face. I keep going. I can’t help it. I don’t think I’ll ever get enough of her taste, of the way her whole body shivers when she comes. I need . . .
“Enough.” She says it on a breathless laugh. “You’re going to get us in trouble.”
“Worth it,” I murmur. But I let her tug me up her body and kiss me deeply. My orgasm barely took the edge off my need, and so I have to use what little self-control I have left to hold still as Rusalka puts our clothes to rights and takes my hand. We share a secret smile . . .
Which dies the moment we step out of the dressing room and find Azazel himself waiting for us.
He is wearing an outfit similar to the last one I saw him in: a wrap around his hips, boots, and little else. His horns nearly drag along the ceiling, and his expression is forbidding enough that I’m tempted to shrink behind Rusalka.
Except hiding will all but admit I think we’re doing something wrong, and I fucking refuse. We are two consenting adults. Yes, maybe having sex in a semipublic place was a little ill-advised, but it wasn’t wrong. It wasn’t shameful.
I don’t make a conscious decision to step in front of Rusalka. My body does it on its own. As I look up to meet Azazel’s dark eyes, I think I might pass out on the spot if he looks angry.
He doesn’t. There’s a caution there that he wore even in his human skin, and something I can’t quite define, but no anger.
I say, “It’s not their fault.”
“No one is speaking about fault,” he rumbles. “I came to see for myself what Ramanu tells me is true. Apparently they’re correct.” His gaze shifts to Rusalka and softens a little. “I’m glad to see I made the right call.”
I don’t really know what that means, but it’s obvious we’re not in trouble. I don’t know what to do with that. The adrenaline rushes from my body in a whoosh that leaves me dizzy. The room spins, and both Azazel and Rusalka rush to grab me as I start to tilt.
Rusalka hisses at Azazel. Actually hisses. “I’ve got her.”
He instantly raises both hands and takes a step back. “I see that. I meant no disrespect.”
There are layers upon layers here, and I don’t know what to do with that. So I ignore the whole thing. I look up at Rusalka. “Can we go home? Please.”
“Yes,” they say slowly, but their attention is on Azazel. “As I told Ramanu, we merely came to avail ourselves of your shops. They have styles I thought would appeal to Belladonna. Nothing more insidious than that.”
He sighs, his shoulders relaxing a little. “No need to tiptoe around me. I’m not here to play games. I wanted to check in.” He glances at me. “And to invite you both to dinner.”
I expect Rusalka to tell him no, but they smile. “Dinner sounds lovely.”
I wish I could say the same.
22
RUSALKA
My irritation at Azazel’s ambush lasts until we arrive at a medium-sized round table. I’ve attended state dinners here on occasion, and at those, we always dine at a massive beast of a table where you have no hope of talking to the people on the other side. Clever when it comes to having borderline-warring leaders attend. This is different—intimate. This is where the demon king eats when he’s not trying to impress anyone.
Which begs the question of why he’s brought us here.
I hold a chair out for Belladonna and give her shoulder a squeeze before I perch on the chair next to her, positioning myself between her and Azazel. I don’t think for a moment that he’s a threat to her, but she’s practically quivering with nerves, and I don’t want her to be more uncomfortable than she has to be.
I point to the fourth plate across from me. “Is someone else joining us?”
“Perhaps.” A new tension tightens his shoulders, telling a story if one cares to look.
Normally, I wouldn’t say anything, out of courtesy, but fuck that. I would rather be back in my territory, coaxing Belladonna into screaming my name a dozen times before dawn. I tap my claws on the table. “You took the fifth woman.”
He flinches. It’s a tiny movement, practically microscopic, but I see it all the same.
I lean forward. “You did, didn’t you? But why? That must be against your lauded bargainer demon morals.”