“We are, sir. Please.” She gestured to a pair of house-shoes. He toed them on. “Right this way.”
Briar hadn’t seen much during transport. He’d glimpsed clustered trees and a wicked gate as he exited the car. Listened to the double doors at the front of the estate creak apart. Palmed the polished mahogany banister as he climbed the stairs, and peered through the oval windows on the second floor, staring out at forested grounds.
For too long, Briar had walked Earth a stranger—tending to wounds, setting broken wings after bloody battles, assisting in extractions of wayward lesser-demons occupying undeserving bodies, pressing his fingertips to sickly foreheads and shooing ailments away. Experiencing this place as a prisoner felt like exploring a decrepit building days before demolition. Iron candelabras jutted from faded red wallpaper in the hallway, and thick, wood-framed portraiture hung on bronze hooks. Briar kept his hands clasped, glancing from the gold-trimmed runner to the single cream-painted door the servant pushed open and held, one arm outstretched, the other perched on her hip.
“Your chamber, dear. I’ll see to you tomorrow,” she said.
“Your name. . . ?” he asked, hoping he hadn’t been presumptuous. Rumors worked their way through celestial circles, whispers of name-changes and namelessness during auction years. Depending on who had purchased you, a name could be reduced to nothing.
“Oh, quite right. I’m Mallory Lewis. Aster claimed me twelve years ago—plucked me out of purgatory like a kitten from a soggy box,” she said, tipping her head politely. “Briar, is it?”
“Yes, Briar Wright.”
“Splendid. Well, don’t be afraid, Briar Wright. You will be fed, clothed, and kept. From what I’ve heard, he’s an attentive lover.”
With that, Mallory turned on her heels and strode toward the staircase. Briar’s heart leapt into his throat.Of course.His knees wobbled, suddenly weak, and his spine turned to jelly. He’d known the moment Astaroth had cast his bid that he was not intended for housework, but somehow, like all unbelievable things, he’d convinced himself that maybe, perhaps, the Great Duke would want him for something a little less promiscuous. His hopefulness soured. Briar stepped into the bedroom and kicked off his slippers.
A zipper sounded. Someone—a lanky Black fellow seated on the edge of a lavish bed—heaved a sigh. “You’re rather small for a War Angel,” they said. Their woodsy eyes shifted from Briar’s feet to his face. They held the hanger of a sleek garment bag from one kinked finger. “Handsome, though. I knew you weresomething, but seeing you now? It’s no wonder he spent a fortune on you.”
“Auction files are sealed post-purchase,” Briar snapped, matter-of-factly.
“Correct, except I happen to be the one who snatched you from the slush.” One tapered black eyebrow lifted, punched through with a gold hoop. They stood, heeled boots clicking the smooth wood floor, and extended their hand. “You can call me Luca. I’m Aster’s personal assistant. They, them and their, retired Guardian, extremely stylish.”
Briar took their hand, cautiously. “Briar—”
“Wright, yes. I came across your file two days before the Celestial Auction. I chose your showing outfit,” they said, and flashed a toothy grin. “You’re welcome.”
Heat filled Briar’ cheeks. That sheer, glittering dress he’d worn on stage hardly counted as anoutfit. Still, he forced a thin smile. “And you’ll be dressing me tonight, I assume?”
“Versace,” they said, revealing a white dress shirt and pressed navy pants. “Only the best for thearmy on high.” Their voice lowered, hushed and sarcastic. They rolled their eyes. “Trust me, you’ll have much more fun here. Let’s get a look you, shall we?”
Briar swallowed to wet his throat. He shrugged the robe away and let it drop. Luca hummed, tapping their mouth. They tilted their head from side to side. Concentration sharpened their gaze. He wanted to shield himself, to cover his crotch with his hands or push his thighs together, but the moment he moved to cup his hands around himself, Luca tsk’d.
“You’re paler than I thought. The white better not wash you out,” Luca said. They motioned for Briar to follow. A cape trailed behind them, and their black locs were coiled into a knot atop their head. “Stand here—no,here. Ah, there we go. Put these on. Yes, these, too. And. . . Right, yes. I’ve outdone myself. Look at you, little battle bird.”
Briar chewed on the inside of his cheek. He curled his toes, concealed by matte black Chelsea boots. Canary yellow buttons lined his stomach and a thick belt circled his waist. Luca worked their fingers through Briar’s short, light-brown hair, fixing his waves into place with texturizer. They flicked his crisp collar, assessing him with another slow once over.
“When I saw your file, I thought ‘what a catch’ and you have not disappointed,” Luca said.
The heat in his face refused to fade. “Will the other concubines be joining us tonight?”
“There are no others.”
Briar blinked. “Pardon?”
“I’m certainly glad you’re aware of your intended role here but make no mistake, you are the only hopeful Aster has taken in. . .” Luca paused to count on their fingers. “Too long. Anyway, you two will be dining alone. Superbly dressed, I might add. And you willnotbe meek. Meet his eyes. Engage him in conversation. Don’t, under any circumstance, be dishonest. If you lie, he’ll smell it on you. Understood?”
Briar inhaled sharply through his nose.Hopeful. . . ?He chewed on the inside of his cheek.
“Understood?”
“Yes,” he said.
“Good.” Luca tipped their chin, brows arched high on their forehead. “I hope you have a healthy appetite. Follow me.”
Chapter Two
Briar’s heartrate spiked as he eased down the last two steps and followed Luca through a square entryway adjacent the staircase. His bootscloppedthe floor like hooves, echoing through the quiet, dimly lit house. They made their way past the busy kitchen, alive with spewing faucets, popping oil, and sizzling pans, to the dining room. He paused in the doorway, frozen in place by something akin to fear—a peculiar brand of curiosity. Why would the Great Duke of Hell, an original Fallen, require convincing to take a partner? His lungs tightened, as did the muscles below his navel. More importantly, why would a demon of Astaroth’s caliber choose someone as inexperienced as Briar to entertain him in bed?