Page 13 of Claimed
The material is gleaming crystal, fake studs, and leather but as I shove my feet into a pair of high heels that lace up my legs, I have to admit, the disguise works.
And it’s all thanks to the demon from earlier.
His own gothic appeal helped to formulate my persona. A little bad, a little well dressed. Too much money and deep seated issues that I refuse to work through.
Lips curving, I climb into the older car and head back to my hotel. There are quite a few alternative clubs in town. And I need to be seen sooner rather than later. I’m careful to park the rental out of sight before switching vehicles.
Though older, the vehicle is inconspicuous. One of a hundred around town.
But my real ride, the one I will drive tomorrow …
The midnight sports car purrs as I crank her, the whole steel beast vibrating deliciously around me. I caress my hands over the steering wheel and speed out of the Four Seasons.
I have no destination in mind.
But the auctioneers know I’m in town. Azz’s invite is still in the hotel room’s safe. And as with all those warranting an invitation, I will be under scrutiny until they call the first bid.
The best thing for me to do is play Azz’s playmate. The depraved girl serving her master. And now, with a little freedom, she needs to find some fun.
It’s the same story everywhere I go.
The heist in Paris. The robbery in Rome.
Even the stolen plans from the Capital.
See me here, so you don’t notice me there.
Smoke and mirrors. And if I can piss Azz off and spend his money, all the better for me.
I drive until a dark SUV appears in my rearview. The car is about as inconspicuous as a neon sign denoting the auctioneer’s presence.
“There you are,” I mutter and switch lanes. The car follows suit. Snorting, I maintain my speed and keep my eyes forward as I cruise to Miami Beach.
Velvet Sin is packed as I pull up out front. Voted the best alternative club for miles, the pulsing lights and thunderous music leave my body tingling with excitement.
A valet opens my door and I climb out, flashing my long legs. His eyes remain riveted on my tan skin as I stand.
I press the keys into his chest, digging my new nails into the vest covering him. “You scratch her, and I scratch you,” I say just loud enough for him to hear.
His throat works but he nods, climbing behind the wheel to tuck my new toy somewhere safe.
I walk right up to the front door, bypassing the line.
The bouncer raises a brow. “Sorry, lady, you need to get in line. No cutting.”
I dip my eyes to his clipboard. “But I’m on the guest list.”
“I doubt it,” he murmurs, eyeing me.
“Look under Lord Azzeroth plus one. I’m the plus one.”
Rolling his eyes, he lifts the clipboard and scours the first few lines. I know the minute he sees the red star denoting the patron as a demon. He swallows and his gaze raises to mine. “Name?”
“Onyx,” I say simply.
I’ve always hated Azz’s insisted name for me. It was another way to delete my old life. To leave me indebted to him and reliant only on my newmaster.
But sometimes it has its perks.
