He had received more than a dozen letters and emails from one Miss A. Palatine over a five-month period, all concerning a certain bauble that had been in the Ebarron vaults for nearly twenty years. After Sorin’s refusal to sell it back to her, the Nephilim had gone from imploring to indignant to downright insulting.
And now here she was, in the flesh, on Ebarron soil.
Very delectable flesh, from what Sorin could ascertain.
In all the times he had imagined her—and there had been many—he’d envisioned a dour little church mouse with a voice to shrivel even the lustiest Incubus’s allure. Instead, Ashayla Palatine was a tall and luscious, defiant temptress.
One who’d arrived tonight under false pretense, besides.
As wildly attracted to her as he was, Ashayla’s true purpose for coming to his domain was the thing that now captivated Sorin the most. Before he let her out of his sight tonight, he would unravel every one of her secrets.
If he could undress her and have her screaming his name at the same time, so much the better.
Idly tapping his index finger on the tallest stack of his chips, Sorin watched the slowing wheel. He heard Ashayla’s inhaled breath as the ball bounced from pocket to pocket. Felt her go utterly still beside him on the final clatter that sealed her fate.
The croupier called the winner.
Sorin.
Ashayla stood wooden, staring at the table as Sorin dismissed the croupier with a casual lift of his hand. “That will be all for tonight, Carl. Thank you.” As the tuxedoed casino worker stepped away to leave them their privacy, Sorin swiveled his head to look at Ashayla. “I have to admit, this has been a most memorable night already…Miss Palatine.”
She swung a stricken glance at him.
“Yes, I know who you are. And it doesn’t change a thing. You made a deal, Ashayla.”
She scoffed beneath her breath. “A deal with the devil, if you ask me.”
Sorin smiled, gave a mild shrug. “Nevertheless…I mean to hold you to it.”
He held out his arm to her. She didn’t take it. She hardly moved. Sorin half-expected her to cry foul or bolt like a frightened doe. If she had, maybe he would have shown her mercy and let her go.
Maybe.
But she did neither of those things.
Shoulders squared, chin held high, she looked at him with ice in her midnight blue eyes. “The rest of the night and not a minute more,” she said. “That was the price. Nothing more.”
“You know the price, Ashayla.”
She regarded him the way she might look at something that had crawled out from one of Hell’s sulfurous abysses. “What do you mean to do? Rape me, or use the thrall to do the work for you?”
He deflected her barb with a cool shake of his head. “There won’t be any need for such heavy-handed tactics. Before the night is over, you’ll be begging me to take you. After that kiss a moment ago, I’m guessing you’re more than halfway there already.”
“I’m sure you’d like to think so.” She pinned him in a seething stare, even though her cheeks flamed with color. “Since you know who I am, it shouldn’t come as any surprise to know that I despise you and everything your House stands for. If you think that’s going to change because I was foolish enough to gamble against you tonight, you’re sorely mistaken.”
He met her outrage with a calm, level glance. He reached out, unable to resist stroking his fingertips over the deep pink flush on her face. “I said you’re going to want me between your legs, sweet Asha. I didn’t say you had to like me.”
CHAPTER FIVE
Crude. Overbearing. Despicable.
Seated alone in an elegant dining room inside Ebarron House’s living quarters, Ashayla mentally recited a litany of condemnations for the demon Master who’d brought her there about an hour ago. Sorin had personally escorted her from the casino to the private elevator that carried them up to the Incubi stronghold a dozen floors above, then he’d left her by herself without a word of excuse or explanation.
As she waited, dreading what might come next, she couldn’t help reliving the time she’d already spent in Sorin’s company.
She couldn’t help recalling the way he teased her, taunted her, even charmed her—all against her will. The memory of his kiss still blazed on her lips, on her tongue. Just the thought of his hot, demanding mouth on hers made liquid heat pool in her core.
But he was wrong if he thought he could seduce her. No matter what she’d wagered tonight, she had no intention of giving herself to him willingly.
She would rather chew off her own arm than give the demon that satisfaction.
Arrogant. Infuriating. Bastard.
He may have won their bet, but she hadn’t forgotten why she was there in the first place.
Reaching down to her boot, she slipped her fingers inside the black leather to where the small metal vial of Nephilim magic was concealed. Still there. Maybe this awful detour could be used to her advantage. Maybe there would be an opportunity to slip away from Sorin later tonight and search for the treasure room.
Or maybe she should use the potion for her own self-preservation and escape before the Incubus returned to collect on her debt.