“I’m a warlock.”
At his words, the air left her lungs with a whoosh. She glanced around, found the nearest chair, and dropped. For a minute she sat, contemplating the floor. He was a warlock. And he was openly admitting it here at the Order of the Shadow Accords. Where Asmodai had told her they would kill her, if they ever found out what she was. He’d told her they killed all people like her.
“Is that like a male witch?” she asked, just to make sure she hadn’t misunderstood.
“Witch, warlock…they’re just names given by people who have no real clue what they mean.”
People like her. Thanks to Asmodai. Roz could feel the fury rising inside her. She gritted her teeth. Asmodai had lied. He’d been lying to her for five hundred years.
“That fucking bastard.”
“Who?”
Piers had backed off and was leaning against the wall, arms crossed, watching them both. She clamped her lips at his question. She had to think things through. Decide what to do next. Sticking a dagger in Asmodai’s black, lying heart would be her first choice. Was it possible to murder a demon? She was betting there were people here who knew the answer to that particular question. In fact, she was betting there were people here who knew all the answers. No doubt, that was why Asmodai had lied—he hadn’t wanted her to know what was going on. It might have allowed her to think for herself and maybe reduced her usefulness.
Or did he have other reasons?
Beneath the anger, she felt a faint hum of excitement. Was she going to finally learn some of those answers? A shiver ran over her skin and she realized she was sitting there half naked. She glared up at Piers.
“Well, now you’ve had your bit of fun, could I get dressed?”
He shrugged. “Pity. That really is one ugly outfit but go ahead.”
She tugged the dress up her arms and held it together.
“So you were faking it all the time?”
She shrugged noncommittally.
“And you remember everything we did?”
“Well, I don’t remember me doing much, but yeah, I remember you sucking my blood, if that’s what you mean. Ugh!”
“Ugh? From what I remember, you enjoyed it a lot—both times.”
She gave him a scornful glance and sniffed. “I was pretending.”
“Of course you were.” The words came out as a rough purr that sent shivers running down her spine. “Would you like to pretend some more?”
Heat washed over her at his question, flushing through her body before settling low down in her belly. A little pulse started its insistent throb between her thighs, and she glanced away. Her hands fisted at her sides, her nails digging into her palms as she fought to bring her unruly body under control.
What was it about this man that affected her so badly? He was gorgeous, but she’d met gorgeous men before and they hadn’t made her lose her common sense or her grip on reality. Hadn’t made her forget everything but the urge to push him back against the wall and rub up against him like a cat in heat. Her breasts responded to the idea, her nipples tightening, sending darts of sensation shooting down to her groin. She’d rip that T-shirt from his body…
Someone coughed, and she looked up to find Jonas watching her. She shifted her gaze to the vampire, her eyes narrowing at the amused quirk on his lips, only slightly mollified as her gaze clashed with his. She recognized her own hunger reflected and magnified in the midnight blue depths.
“So, should I leave you two alone for a moment?” Jonas asked.
“Yes,” Piers said.
“No,” she snapped. She made a concerted effort to relax, her fingers uncurling, the tension oozing out of her shoulders, leaving her a little shaky. Too much had happened over the last few days. She was struggling to take it all in. But even if the Order didn’t automatically kill people like her, she also knew they weren’t necessarily on her side. Her only hope of living her own life, free from coercion, was to get Asmodai off her back. To do that she had to finish the tasks, and that meant handing him the Key.
What did he want with it? Piers had told Christian that the Key opened the portals between worlds. All worlds. But while Asmodai might be a lying bastard, she didn’t believe he was truly evil. He was a demon, and she’d come to see that he viewed the world, and the whole morality thing, differently from most people. All the same, she was pretty sure he wasn’t some megalomaniac monster intent on taking over the world and subjugating the whole human race. But what did she know? He’d successfully managed to lie to her for five hundred years. Could she really believe anything he said?