Page 15 of Incubus

10

Lilah

THE SOUNDS BECAMEclearer the closer I got to the doors. I knew what was going on inside, knew I should slip back the way I had come. I didn’t. I wanted to see, to know. This way, I would have no illusions about Roth de Lis. He was an incubus who thrived on bedding as many women as he could. That sexual energy kept him alive, the same as blood for vampires. Instead of retreating, I pushed the doors open with tingling fingertips. Roth had a woman pinned beneath him. Naked. Everyone in the bed was stark naked.

I was too shocked to blush.

He sprang from the bed, his well-muscled body gleaming golden in the soft light. My gaze drifted down the washboard expanse of his abs to his narrow hips. The substantial length of him made me stifle a gasp. I could feel my nipples hardening despite myself.

One of the women, a blonde, gave me an acid look and reached up to stroke Roth’s perfect ass. He waved her hand away. Was that embarrassment flickering across his face? Surely not. After what he’d just done with these two women while he knew I was in his house? His embarrassment could fuck right off.

Even as I seethed, I couldn’t deny my pang of jealousy. I reminded myself that any such feelings were nothing compared to the triumphant joy I would feel upon my return to Artemis. Despite the emotions he churned up inside me in that moment, I told myself this was a strictly business relationship. And my business was gaining his trust and selling him out. Simple as that.

I backed away, intending to make my escape from the threesome before things got even more intense.

“Wait.” Roth pulled on a pair of pajama pants.

The blonde in his bed hissed as Roth covered up. She never took her eyes off me.

Roth snapped his fingers. “Go,” he ordered, his tone short and full of command.

Both women rose from the bed. Neither made any effort to conceal their perfect bodies as they traipsed past me.

I couldn’t control the rising tide of anger inside me. “I think I should be going.”

“No, stay.” His words were more entreaty than order.

The door shut gently behind me. We were alone. He still stood next to the ornate four-poster bed, his bare chest revealing a trail of dark hair that disappeared into his bottoms. He watched me like a predator stalking prey, which was a turnabout for me. I was a huntress, trained by theHuntress.

But as I remembered what the rest of him looked like under the pajama bottoms, a rush of heat jolted through my body.

“See something you like?” Embers flickered in his eyes.

“Oh, please.” I shrugged, doing my best to play it cool though I couldn’t tear my gaze away from his chiseled physique. “You aren’t seriously flirting with me after I caught you with two hookers, are you?”

“Corinne and Anne aren’t hookers. They do, however, provide a valuable service.”

I didn’t want to hear any more about the perfect women’s “services.” Especially not from him. “Let’s just get down to the terms of the deal.”

“Fine.” He gestured for me to sit with him on the divan at the foot of the bed.

I raised an eyebrow at him. “Dream on.”

“Suit yourself.” He sank onto the couch, lounging there like a powerful cat.

I tried to make my tone all business despite the ache he’d set off inside me. “Look, you know what I want—the book. So, I’ll offer you a split of the profits; seventy-thirty.” Knowing he would sense the trap if I offered him favorable terms right off the bat, I began the negotiation in cutthroat territory.

He let out a low laugh. “Carissima. That can’t be your best offer. Try again.” His gaze traveled over my body, lingering at the apex of my thighs. I shifted my legs so one was in front of the other, remembering all too well I wasn’t wearing any panties.

“Fine. Sixty-forty.”

“No, no, no. That just won’t do.” I sensed he was toying with me. Good. He needed to be focused on the game between us, not the bigger angle I was working.

I recrossed my arms over my chest. “Well, since we’re horse trading, what did you have in mind? Fifty-fifty isn’t an option so don’t even go there. Besides, it looks like you aren’t hurting for cash.” I took a long look around the room. The ceiling was made of thick, curved wooden beams, and the walls were done in a gilded paper. The furnishings alone were worth more than my paltry flat in the Pigalle district.

“That’s correct. I’m not after money,” he agreed smoothly.

“Then what?”

---