The Order Box Set (The Order #1-3)

They’d finished their little conference, and he was heading back. Roz wiped the expression from her face as he approached, his eyes staring straight in to hers.

Oh, great, the mesmerizy thingy again. She could tell by the intense expression on his face. He had stunning eyes, dark blue like a hot summer day. All the same, she wished he wouldn’t stare at her with them. It was just as well she was a good actress. She wondered who the old guy was—he looked on his last legs.

She just had to get through these questions, and afterwards, she was sure they’d let her and Maria go. Why wouldn’t they? There was one good thing about the mesmerization—at least he’d believe her. Easy.

“Sister Rosa.” He came to a halt about a foot away, a small smile playing on his lips. What had the old guy told him? She flicked a quick glance his way, and the man quirked his lips as if amused. Damn. What was going on now?

“Yes,” she murmured in her serenest voice.

“Strip.”

Okay, she was going to presume she hadn’t heard that right. Self-delusion at its best, but all the same… “What?”

“Take off your clothes.” He enunciated each word slowly so she couldn’t even pretend not to understand.

Shit.

What was going on? Did he really want her to strip for some pervy purpose or was he testing her?

Double shit.

Why would he be testing her? Did he suspect she was pretending? How? Was she a crap actress after all? She had to make a decision quickly or he’d know she was pretending anyway.

She took a deep breath. It wasn’t as though she was ashamed of her body. She could do this. After all, this guy had given her the two most mind blowing orgasms of her life—maybe he deserved to see her. She wasn’t so sure about the old guy. But even as the thoughts were racing through her mind, her hand went to the row of small buttons running down the front of her robe.

Piers’ eyes widened as though she had surprised him. Then they darkened as her fingers plucked at the tiny buttons.

She waited for him to tell her to stop. After all, he was only doing this to prove a point—that she was under his will—wasn’t he?

But she reached the last button, and still he didn’t speak out. If he believed she was afraid of this, he didn’t know her. She pushed the sleeves down her arms and the bodice of the robe pooled around her waist, leaving her top half naked but for the black bra. His gaze played across her bare skin, lingering on the too full curves of her breasts. She could feel them swelling under his regard, her nipples hardening, pushing against the lace.

A small smile curved his lips.

Yeah, the bastard knew she was pretending. Goddamn it—it looked like she wasn’t going home anytime soon.

He hadn’t known the last two times, she was sure of it—so what was different? The old guy? Who was he? Or more to the point, considering where they were, what was he?

Piers was still gazing at her chest. How far would he make her go?

Reaching behind her, so her breasts thrust out toward him, she fingered the catch on her bra. Staring into his face, she whispered the word. “More?”

He nodded and her eyes narrowed.

She dropped her arms to her sides and scowled. “Well, if you want more, you’re going to have to take it yourself. Fucking pervert.”

She heard a choke of laughter from the old guy. But she ignored it, holding her breath as she waited for Piers’ reaction. Instead, a hiss came from the old man and her gaze shot toward him. He was staring at the sigil wrapped around her upper arm. She’d always told people it was a tattoo. Obviously, he recognized it as something else.

He stepped up close and lifted a hand. “Do you mind?” he asked at the last moment.

“Would it make any difference?”

He smiled, then stroked one fingertip over the intricate design.

“What is it?” Piers asked, his tone sharp.

Jonas glanced at him. “You’ve never seen one? I’m surprised. It’s a demon’s sigil. A sort of brand of indebtedness. And it’s old. Very old.”

“How old?”

Could he tell? It would give her away. Then what would happen?

“Five hundred years, give or take a few. Your little nun has been holding out on you.” He studied her. “Just what are you?”

Roz sighed. “Would you believe me if I told you I didn’t know?”

“Actually, yes.” He held out a hand to her. “I’m Jonas, by the way. Piers failed to introduce us.”

She eyed up the outstretched hand, reached out, and slid her palm against his. As she wrapped her fingers around his, a little jolt of power ran through her from the point of contact, as though some part of her recognized him. He must have felt it too, as his smile broadened. She tugged free. “And what are you, Jonas?” She held her breath, waiting for his answer.