Heinhaled the musty air. “Thisisn’t a basement.It’sa dungeon.Thesmell of the prisoners might as well be etched into the stone.”Hecould still scent their desperation.

WhenPoppystarted down, he gripped her shoulder. “Wait.”Acharge seemed to flow from her body to his until he had to bite back a groan.

Shewhirled around, giving his hand an arch look. “What?”

“Tellme what you’re searching for.”Whatcould coax her down those steps?

“WhyshouldItrust you with any more information?HowaboutItell you as soon as you divvy what brought you here?”

Notthe time forthatconversation.Insteadof answering, he maneuvered around her. “Ifyou’re determined to go down there, at least follow me in.”

Amercenary at heart, she waved him on.

Thetemperature grew colder as they descended to the dungeon.Inside, their steps echoed, indicating a large underground space. “Yousensing anything magical?Maybethe castle’s battery?”

“No.”Shepeered around intently. “But. . . something.”

Heheaded in deeper, finding several standard-issue cells, as well as a few openings that dotted the floor in a zigzag pattern. “Ah, oubliettes.”

“Ooblee-what’s?”Poppyasked from behind him.

“Oubliettemeans a place to forget.Prisonerswere dumped into deep, cavernlike holes as a means of imprisonment—and execution.”

“Wouldn’tLoreanbodies still be down there, withered but clinging to life?”

Rökhad a flashback of liberating starved immortals fromOmort’spersonal dungeon.Whathe’d seen in those bloodstained cells would stay with him for eternity. “Unlessthey were too young to regenerate.ButIdon’t scent anyone.”Stillstuck in that memory, he eased closer to the nearest oubliette. “Howdeep are these?—”

“Wait!” she cried. “Thoseopenings are bespelled.”

Hestepped back, giving his head a shake. “Thanksfor the save.”

“Hadto do something.Sinceyour mystical senses are like a rock’s.”

“Funnywitch.”Heglanced around for something to toss in.Helobbed a loose brick near the opening, and some force sucked it down.Whoosh.Henever heard it land. “Straightto hell, then.”

“Evena demon like you might have trouble scaling up against that kind of pull.”

Heturned to her. “Let’sget you away from them.”

Shefrowned. “You’veyet to give me a good reason you’ve turned . . . protective.”Shewas suspicious; she should be.

“Thoughyou might have no cause to trust me,I’venever given you causenotto either.I’venever lied to you,Poppy.”OneofCade’srules for being a mercenary was to lie often, but he’d since learned his lesson.Röktoo had learned.

“Maybenot.Yetyou’re hiding something from me.Idon’t know what, butsomething.”

Oh,Iam.Timefor more distraction. “Ido have an agenda.”Hemoved closer to her, loving that she stood her ground. “I’lllend you my sword, and in exchange,Iwant another kiss.”He’ddo anything to repeat the one they’d shared, the most carnal kiss he’d ever experienced.

Howmany times had he stroked himself to the memory of it?Herecalled her plush, breathless lips.Hernipples had been so stiff he’d felt them through his sport coat.Whenshe’d pinned her knee to his hip to grind her sweet pussy against him, he’d nearly gone off.Ifsomeone hadn’t honked and broken the moment, she might have received him right there.

Poppyscoffed. “Youwant me to kiss you?Inyour fantasies, demon.”

“Youstar in them all, witch.Everynight,Ifantasize about stoking your lusts and sating you over and over.”Helowered his voice seductively. “Youalways begmore.Untilyou begno more.AndIstill make you come again.”

Herbreaths shallowed.Shewasn’t immune to him, so why avoid him?Maybeshe only saw herself with a warlock.

Poppyrecovered quickly enough. “Alwaysback to sex with you.I’mnot interested in a one-night stand, especially not an interrupted one.I’mlooking for a romantic partner.You’llhave to find someone else to be among your wild oats—Isowed my own seventy-five years ago whenIfroze into my immortality.”

Theidea of hersowingwith other males . . .Arabid hellhound fed a strict diet of cocaine would feel more peaceable thanRökat that moment.