Page 7 of Sin and Salvation

I saw Aeron lean towards Zane, whispering something with a big grin on his face, but the Greed demon just shook his head, tight-lipped. There was no amusement in that red-flecked gaze… only his House’s name, the greed to which he’d been born.

Please, whoever is listening, don’t let me fucking slip.I sent up a silent prayer as I gripped the smooth brass pole, taking a full revolution before turning back to the guys.

The music provided the perfect segue into unbuttoning my shirt, one at a time, revealing the baby-pink bra I wore beneath.

For the first time in my life, I was glad I was wearing matching lingerie for a reason that had nothing to do with my need to keep everything in my life orderly and symmetrical.

There was nothing orderly about this. It was the height of an un-Venus-like thing to do.

But the hellhound’s grin faded a little as, bit by bit, the lace edge of my bra was exposed, and I held out an arm, letting my silk blouse drop to the edge of the stage.

I raised my chin, refusing to look away from him as I peeled away the skirt, sliding it down over my hips with a careless sway and revealing the lace and mesh panties beneath.

It was a fucking miracle that I didn’t trip and fall all over myself like a baby giraffe as I stepped out of the skirt pooled on the floor.

I gripped the pole again, this time letting myself slide around as sinuously as an eel, dropping to the floor with the cold pole pressed against my shoulder blades.

Aeron’s grin was long gone. He leaned back in his seat, hand to his chin as he watched, a line between his brows.

Zane was still cool and aloof, but the red sparks in his eyes were more prominent than ever. There was a tense set to his jaw, like a man waiting to see if he’d be outbid on his greatest desire.

But Crow… he was unreadable. He hadn’t spoken a word to me.

It didn’t matter if the other two liked me, if he didn’t. His word was law here.

If I did one thing tonight, one thing that would provide the key to my salvation, it had to be impressing the Wrathful demon sitting in the shadows.

As the song continued, it became easier to pretend that nothing else existed, easier to pretend I was perfectly comfortable dancing around the gleaming brass pole.

But Crow never moved. He picked up the whisky glass, bringing it to his mouth, but he was so far back in the darkness I couldn’t read if he was pleased or not. Only the shine of his gold horns gave away that he was still sitting there at all.

Desperation clawed at my belly like a cramp, and as the bass of the current song gave way to something slower, more melodious, I made a drastic decision.

He had girls working all over this club, plenty of eye candy. I was probably not the first demon to ever show up on his doorstep looking for a job, and he could have his pick of the women in Concordia.

He probably wouldn’t choose an awkward succubus who looked like an accountant if she wasn’t willing to make her time here memorable.

The second before I slid off the stage and onto the bar encircling it, I noticed with a vague shock that some of the Black Hearts members who had been closest to my stage had drawn closer, and there were now crumpled bills lying there.

I sent a scattering of dollars to the floor, and felt a brief flash of satisfaction at the surprise on Aeron’s face as I lowered myself gracefully from the bar and prowled towards their table.

But none of them said a word of dissent when I reached them, and smoothly climbed onto the table.

If anything, Zane drew in a hissed breath, but I didn’t look. If I looked at him, I’d betray the fear simmering beneath the surface of my façade.

On all fours, I made my way right across the table to Crow, and took his whisky right out of his hand.

The second before I knocked back the rest of it myself, that ghostly smirk crossed his lips again, his black eyes glittering as he looked up at me.

The whisky was a shot of heat right to my stomach, the liquid courage I needed to put his glass aside, slide onto his lap, and undulate my ass right on his lap.

Maybe it was the super-powered whisky, or the burning desire in Zane’s gaze, his tattooed fingers flexing around his own half-empty glass, or the way Aeron ran a hand through his bedhead auburn hair, gaze trailing over me from head to toe.

But I found that I was suddenly much more than relaxed.

I wasexcited.

The burn in my stomach was more than whisky as Crow’s rough fingertips ran over my thighs, gliding up towards my hips and hooking in the thin strap of my panties.

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