Masters of Seduction Volume 2: Books 5-8: Paranormal Romance Box Set
Lara Adrian
PRICELESS: HOUSE OF EBARRON ~ by Lara Adrian
Masters of Seduction (Book 5)
CHAPTER ONE
Sorin, Master of the Incubus House of Ebarron, leaned back on the velvet divan in his private office as warm, eager hands worked his silk tie loose, then began to unfasten the buttons of his crisp white shirt.
Another pair of hands slid over his thighs and groin, zeroing in with fevered enthusiasm on the erection that strained against the fabric of his expensive black suit. Behind him stood a third female, whose fingers played in his wavy golden hair as she leaned over him, her naked breasts bobbing above his upturned face like fruit, ripe for the plucking.
He let out a deep sigh, settling into the effortless pleasure that the captain of Ebarron’s Watchmen had procured for him for the evening. Sorin had to admit, Milo had fine taste in women.
The trio of human females his personal bodyguard had sent up to the penthouse from Ebarron’s elite casino downstairs were beautiful, seductive, and clearly intent on fulfilling Sorin’s every wicked desire.
His body responded instantly as they began to undress him. Already his cock was rock hard, rampant behind his zipper. Lust swamped his acute demon senses, from both his own carnal need and that of the three lovely women vying for his favor.
Sex was a powerful drug for any red-blooded male, but especially for one born of the Incubi race. They lived for sex—would die without it, in fact.
Sorin and every Incubus demon like him fed on the energy of their partner’s sexual release for sustenance. For life itself. But they fucked for the pure, debauched pleasure of it.
Yet the Master of Ebarron could not have been more bored.
As enticing and arousing as his companions were, they were just three more nameless faces in a sea of women eager to land in the billionaire casino owner’s bed. Like the rest of the mortal world, the females had no idea Sorin’s wealth was the least remarkable thing about him.
As for his interest in them, Sorin would forget these three the moment they finished with him and left the room. Hell, they were all but forgotten by him now, even with their hands and mouths doing their best to please him.
A hundred distractions tugged at his attention. Matters concerning the family business and his role as the head of venerable Ebarron House. A role that had also come with an unending awareness of his responsibility for the family’s treasury, an obscene fortune in artifacts, arcana, and priceless trinkets, which had been wagered and won, bought or collected by the males of his line over thousands of years.
Like the griffin that was the Ebarron sigil, Sorin’s family was fiercely proud of their hoard—and famously protective of it as well.
Sorin’s thoughts snagged on other issues that weighed on him now too, not the least of which being the persistent unrest and rumors pertaining to the highest seat of power in all of the Incubi realm. The Obsidian Throne was the only thing standing between the gates of Heaven and Hell. The truce struck between the Incubi and the angels, overseen by a council of Nephilim priestesses known as the Three, had forever been a fragile thing.
Whispers of ineffectiveness concerning the current Sovereign on the Throne were hardly new, but reports coming out of the Incubi Houses of Gravori, Romerac, Vipera and Xanthe in recent weeks indicated corruption and collusion of the worst kind.
Bloody damned hell. If boredom with his lovely but forgettable companions wasn’t enough to kill his urge to fuck and feed before he’d even gotten started, visions of war between the Incubi and the angels certainly was.
He couldn’t have been more relieved when a knock sounded on the office door. “Enter,” he commanded to his Watchman posted on the other side.
Milo opened the heavy panel, the dark-haired Incubus’s expression sober. “Pardon the interruption, sir. We, ah…we have a situation in the casino.”
It was all the reason Sorin needed to extract himself from the three women draped over him. Immodest as any demon, he stood up, began tucking himself back in, zipping and buttoning his disheveled clothing.
“What kind of situation?” Sorin crossed the room to meet his captain at the door. Christ, could the seasoned Watchman’s face look any more uncomfortable? “What the fuck is going on down there?”
Milo cleared his throat, kept his voice low enough for Sorin’s ears only. “Korda Marakel just walked into the casino.”
Sorin’s answering curse was dark and vivid. The male was from another Incubus House, and not a Master like Sorin, but one of several lower-ranking cousins of Marakel’s Master, the very Incubus who now sat on the Obsidian Throne.
Sorin had once considered Korda Marakel a friend, but now his hackles rose at the mere mention of his name. “Where is the son of a bitch?”
“The roulette room, sir.”