Page 71 of Magic of the Damned

“Ah,” was his only response. He licked his lips, his eyes aflame with a wicked delight. “There’s nothing innocuous about you, Luna.”

His lips pressed against mine, hot and commanding. At my response, he pressed me against the wall, the kiss becoming increasingly voracious. Deft fingers slipped under my shirt, kneading my skin. A shiver coursed through my body when his nails grazed over my skin. Dominic’s body was heavy against mine, and my body heated at the awareness of him hardening against my leg.

When he pulled back, I exhaled a breath and tried to focus on anything other than his hands that made me want more. More of his hands, more of his lips, and all the places I wanted to feel them. Prince of the Underworld, I reminded myself, but logic didn’t prevail with him standing there shirtless and in sweats that hung off the crest of his hips. Corded muscles, warm olive skin, intricate tattoos, and raw sexuality.

I put some well-needed space between us. “You can just thank me,” I teased.

He moved closer, devouring the distance. One hand rested on my waist. I could smell the scent of his soap on him, feel the heat of his body. It wasn’t me; his body was abnormally warm. In the cool room, it was welcome. Bending down until his mouth was inches from my lips, he whispered.

“Thank you for your help, Little Luna. I wouldn’t have survived without you.” His lips were so close, the warmth of his breath tickled my lip.

“You’re very welcome.” You’re not the only one who can sound insincere.

He hadn’t moved, and I was acutely aware of everything about him. Him grinning at me urged me to put more distance between us. He seemed unsettled. Frenetic energy that he had difficulty controlling reverberated off him. Based on the way he was looking at me, I knew what he wanted to do to subdue it. His expression promised something sinfully delightful.

I forced every off-putting image I had of him to the forefront, including the room I’d just seen. It wasn’t enough. We needed a distraction. We had one. This crapshow of a situation.

“Is Emmanuel still an option for magic?”

He shook his head. “He betrayed me, but they were the ones to kill him. I was able to retain one of the attackers and talk.”

Translation: I kept one alive and forced him to speak.

“And?”

He looked grim. “Emmanuel had joined the Awakeners. When he was supposed to clear out the bar, he contacted them. They were to take you but were intercepted by the cadre from yesterday.”

They had done this so long, everything they did was a PR spin.

“They murdered the Awakeners,” I simplified. “Who are they?”

“The new Conventicle. They seem to have grander plans than the current members. One being getting rid of me, taking over, and having a ‘comply or die’ rule for anyone who doesn’t abide by the laws of anonymity. They see the current Conventicle as weak. Me as unnecessary.”

“So they plan to take over the Underworld?” I was incredulous.

The current system wasn’t working but the new Conventicle was ruthless. Would they protect humans and how magic was used against them? Their success meant death for me. It was a hard place to be, wanting to protect humans and rooting for a regime change and rooting against them to save my life.

“So, what’s next?” I asked.

“You still need magic but it will have to be from a different source.”

“Do you have someone in mind?”

He nodded. “Madeline.”

“Oh, so going the implausible route.”

“She’ll require a great deal of coercion and diplomacy.”

“I don’t think you’re using that word right.”

His lips quirked into a half-smile. “Which word?”

“Diplomacy. None of you all are using it right. Diplomacy is a delicate dance requiring negotiation and finesse. You all are all ‘do what I say or you die.’ That’s a threat, not diplomacy.”

He shook his head. “Threats won’t be necessary. The Conventicle will need my help to ward off the coup. She either helps or I’ll let the new members take over and I’ll work something out with them.”

The thrill of the challenge darkened his eyes. Either way, he was confident he’d end up on top. Whatever showed on my face caused him to cast his eyes down, and when he lifted them, they were softer, gentle, not flaming with desire for violence and subjugation.

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