Page 11 of Claimed
“The party is just beginning,” I say. “I won’t let it get too out of hand, but it needs to be loud enough to keep our cover in place, yes?”
He grumbles in answer.
“Why don’t you find a nice young treat and work off some of that anger?” I offer.
Heavenly fire illuminates his eyes. “I’m not sleeping with one of your … guests.”
“Why?” I ask, genuinely curious. I have never known the angel to take a bedmate, but I don’t follow him around on his days off.
“Because I don’t want to.” He looks away. “Besides, who the fuck else will watch your back in this circus?”
My grin is broad as a buxom beauty sashays closer to the glass. Clad in a bikini that covers her bits, she is all full curves and tan skin. I pass Horan my drink. “I fear that someone has already claimed that job.”
I open the door and slip inside. She walks to me, rolling her hips with the added help of her stilettos.
“I’m Carmen,” she tells me, her smile wide. “Is this your place?”
For a moment, her words crash on my ears. As does the surety of why she wants me. Money, power. It’s all the humans care about.
But as the demon blood in my veins responds to the press of slick skin and gyrating bodies, I force the anger down.
My fingers trail up her bare arm, raising gooseflesh and beading her nipples behind the skimpy suit. Her pupils flare wide and her glossy pink lips part.
“Does it matter?” I ask, feeding just a hint of Sin into my voice. Like spice on food. Too much can kill the meal, but just enough can make it.
Her chest heaves, offering her full breasts up to my gaze. “It’s a nice …” She trails off and her focus shifts to me. Hunger slackens her features. “God, you’re hot.”
My smile is all teeth. “And I’m ravenous, poppet.”
She steps closer. Her hands raise to my shirt buttons. I grip her wrists in an iron hold. She doesn’t make a sound, merely continues to watch me with desire brimming in her brown eyes. My eyes roam over her.
I let the leash on my demon magick slip just an inch.
She quakes, a low moan ripping from her lips.
Around the room, many of the others respond in similar fashions. They turn to the closest willing body, hands roaming and lips pressing to bare chests, smooth throats. Gripping the girl’s wrists, I force her back against the window.
Horan stands rooted on the balcony, his gaze tracking behind me.
For a moment, something hot sparks through his gaze. Then he locks stares with me, and the heat turns to disgust.
I smirk and rip the bathing suit top from the girl’s quivering body. She cries out, hips arching and breasts thrusting upward in hopes of my touch.
He turns away.
My smile slips.
If he thinks he hates what I am, it’s nothing to the disgust I have for myself.
For the evil that lives inside me.
The girl gropes the front of my slacks, scrambling her small hand to grip my length. I remain impervious to her touch. Unfeeling.
Because no matter how sexy she is, she isn’t Lilah.
None of them are.
With a grunt, I push away from her and grip her arm. Dragging her from the window, I usher her against a tan male that looks like the Ken to her Barbie. He ogles her bare chest as she smooths her hands over his muscles.
