Page 6 of Sin and Salvation

My lips pressed flat before I could stop myself, and the hellhound—Aeron—laughed. His gaze raked me up and down. “Used to the good life, huh?”

“I can work,” I practically snapped. “I can clean, or…” I caught sight of a passing waitress in a leather bra and shorts that showed the creases of her ass. “I can be a waitress.”

“You’ve never waited tables a day in your life.” Aeron’s lips curved in a mocking smile.

True, but he couldn’t know that for a fact. “No time like the present to start.”

I gazed at Crow beseechingly, but his black eyes were devoid of any emotion. He sipped his whisky again, then idly raised two fingers for a moment.

The silver-haired demon narrowed his eyes at him, then sighed.

“We already have waitresses to spare.” Those gleaming eyes roved over me. “But one of our dancers left last week, and we have an opening… right there.”

He nodded, and I looked over my shoulder at where his gaze rested—on the polished stage and the empty pole right in front of their private table.

My stomach sank past my toes and straight through the floor. “Oh…”

“Are we really going to put an accountant on a pole, Zane?” Aeron snorted.

So the silver-haired demon from Greed was Zane. Now I had names for all of them. “If she gets through the audition, she can stay,” he said.

When I looked back at them, I thought I caught the ghost of a smirk on Crow’s face, then he was all stone again.

I had no choice, and I’d rather take off my clothes here than at Maxime’s.

“I’m not an accountant,” I gritted out, summoning the last scraps of courage I had left. “And you might as well make room for me, because I’ll be staying.”

Zane smiled as he leaned forward, and the curve of his full lips sent an entirely unwelcome flutter through my belly. “Then get up there and prove it, little girl.”

ChapterThree

Despite my resolve to stay right here in Club Onyx, it was much harder than I would’ve believed to turn away from the three heads of the Black Hearts and face that polished stage.

My surface worries bubbled over: I was barefoot, fresh from running through Concordia, mascara smudged down my cheeks from the rain and my hair a mess.

Beneath the beige trench coat, I wore the kind of clothes Maxime liked to see me in when I was in his office: a buttoned silk blouse and a fitted pencil skirt.

The kind of clothes he could tear off on a whim while pretending he was from the House of Lust or Wrath, only allowing himself to become an animal in private.

But they weren’t exactly the kind of thing that the demons cavorting around on the other stages wore right now. If I’d known the Black Hearts would make stripping their condition for refuge, I would’ve fled Maxime in nothing but a sequined thong.

You can make it work, I told myself, heart pounding and palms sweaty as I stepped away from the private alcove.

The waitress in the leather bra glanced at me curiously as I headed toward a set of stairs, her expression giving way to a disbelieving grin as she exchanged bemused looks with another girl.

I wanted to be sick, glad that I hadn’t eaten anything today as I took the first step up. But as the song ended and a new one came on, I let the undercurrent of desperation lead me on.

Bass thumping through the polished wood underfoot, I ignored the smattering of chuckles from a few of the bikers close to the empty stage.

“Is she serious?” I heard one ask, and the waitress gave him a beer, her grin now stretching ear to ear.

The bright lights overhead washed their faces in shadow, which made it easier to pretend they weren’t there.

There was no one else here. There was only me, and the three men watching me from the table.Theywere the ones I needed to impress.

I took a deep breath, letting the thump of the music flow through me, striding slowly across the stage towards them.

It felt utterly ridiculous to be up here barefoot, but I took each step deliberately, letting my coat slide down my shoulders and tossing it aside.

---