Page 37 of Paramour of Sin
I grinned, admiring his attributes from my seat on the bed. “I’m fully aware of your abilities, Zane. I don’t think an interrogation will be required.”
With both glasses cradled in his hands, Zane returned to my side. His knee nudged between mine as he offered me a scotch. “Are you sure, my lord? I’m happy to demonstrate the full range of my abilities for you.”
I accepted the glass, but my gaze remained on his face as he hovered closer, his knees on either side of my thigh. “Mmm, I would enjoy that.” And it would help us both cool the mounting lust we had for a certain succubus.
We drank, and I watched as Zane closed his eyes and turned his face to the ceiling, indulging in the burn of the alcohol sliding down his throat. One of the things I appreciated most about him was his ability to treat everything in life like it was the deepest pleasure.
He set his glass on the nightstand. “Shall I begin now? Or did you want to continue talking?”
I considered the offer, knowing I was unlikely to deny it. I’d been semi-hard since the moment he told me about kissing Guinevere. I wanted his mouth on my cock—the mouth that had just had her lips pressed against it. Reaching out, I hooked my finger into his jeans and began to tug him closer.
Only to be interrupted by a knock against the door.
Zane backed away, looking as irritated as I felt.
I pursed my lips and stood, placing my glass next to Zane’s on the nightstand before I crossed the room to open the door.
Ragus stood on the other side.
“I’m sorry to disturb you, my lord,” Ragus said, his voice lacking the requisite apology for the words, but I waved the thought away. Ragus was never truly apologetic for anything. And that trait was what made him an excellent second-in-command.
“What is it, Ragus?”
“It’s the Tracker, my lord. He’s dead. And so is the human he was following.”
Chapter Eleven
Zane
“This is certainly a bold place to drop a body,” I muttered to myself as I stepped out of my car. Lord Zebulon had portaled to the scene after dropping me at my condo downtown. I’d wanted to drive so I could head back home afterward, and since I lived in Nashville, it was the most efficient route.
Otherwise, I’d have to rely on Lord Zebulon or a Portal Dweller to take me home later. I preferred to rely on myself, not others. However, there were an abundance of demonic auras swarming about. A hoard of Scrubber demons were nearby helping with the mental cleanup of any humans who passed by a little too close, and several Portal Dwellers lurked near the edges to provide transportation to and from the scene.
Guess I could have portaled in with the Demonic Lord, after all.
Because he certainly hadn’t skimped on his crew, that was for sure.
Or maybe it’d been Ragus who’d organized it all. The Ordinatum took our lord’s security very seriously.
The Ordinatum in question looked at me as I approached, his expression blank.
Typical.
The short demon never exuded emotion. He could be covered in blood and give nothing away with his black irises. It was probably why Zebulon kept him around—he could appreciate the stoic attitude. He also probably liked that Ragus hadn’t requested a territory, which was rare for an Ordinatum. Most in his power level preferred to control a city or two within a Demonic Lord’s region.
Zebulon caught my focus with a glance, his ebony irises bleeding with fury.
Here we go, I thought, walking toward him and the dead male on the sidewalk. We were only a few blocks away from Club Hoax, marking this area as well populated. But Lord Zebulon had a handful of Scrubbers on the perimeter rewriting the memories of humans as they wandered by.
The demons could certainly be useful for situations such as this. However, they lacked the willpower and brains to think much on their own. Which I supposed made them pliable to one in Zebulon’s position, hence the reason he kept them under his employ.
“Where’s the Tracker?” I asked, having expected to see his body lingering nearby as well.
“In an alley across the way.” Zebulon jerked his chin toward the alley in question, his expression dark. “Apparently, our culprit felt it important to hide him, but not the human.”
I nodded, then frowned. “The culprit must know that we’re trying to trap him or her now. Especially given that Guinevere wouldn’t tag her own conquest with a Tracker and then kill him a block away.”
“Yes,” Zebulon agreed, blowing out a breath. “Which means we’ve given up all pretense of even considering her as the guilty party.”
