Page 3 of Duke of Seduction

And those lips. Every other woman had painted theirs blood red, but the black paint she wore on hers was remarkable against her milky white skin and soft pink cheeks. She looked like a woman who belonged to the darkness. A woman who belonged tohim.

He was watching her observe the couple on the settee when she slowly turned her eyes away from them and spotted him once more. Her slow-moving gaze stopped when she saw him, and Morgan felt his arousal stir against his black breeches. He inclined his head towards her, just slightly so the other women would not notice. Lifting up his left hand, he pointed his forefinger and middle finger at her and tilted them up ever so slightly. As if she knew exactly what he had meant, she kept her eyes on him as she brought her wine glass to her lips and took another sip.

Such a good little demon,Morgan mused silently as his arousal heightened.

“What say you, Hades?” Hecate asked, drawing his attention back to her and her friends. “Join us in the Spartan room later?”

“I shall see you there at some point, I have no doubt,” he murmured, not taking his eyes from his new little goddess of darkness.

“Soon?” one asked, the hope obvious in her voice.

“We do not rush the lord of the underworld,” Hecate chastised, playfully tapping her friend’s shoulder with her fan.

Morgan bowed his head in agreement, and without another word from him, Hecate ushered her bevy of friends away. With no one now standing between him and his new goddess of the night, he inclined his head towards the nearby hallway, and without waiting to see if she would follow, walked down the darkened path.

Helena felt fire burst through her veins as she took her first step towards the man who had caught her eye. She had done well, she thought, disguising her search for him with her casual, confident walk and air, but the moment she had spotted him again, she felt the surge of nerves traveling through her chest, making it feel as though there was not enough and far too much air all at the same time.

Yes,she thought. This was it. This was exactly what she was looking for, and she had found it. One night. One night when she could be herself and could step into the seductive darkness of being unknown and unwatched by prying social eyes.

She followed him obediently, her heart pounding faster as she turned down the hallway he had just traversed. Her nipples and abdomen tightened as she saw him at its far end, leaning against a doorframe with one foot pressed to the floor and the other to the wall. He watched her silently as she approached, as if unbothered by her slow pace.

It was only as the distance between them began to close that she wondered whether her plan was a mistake. Helena’s mind demanded that she turn around, but her body refused to listen. Shewasgoing to do this.

“Look at you,” he praised, pushing himself away from the wall.

Like a predator, he walked a slow circle around her, his eyes roaming from the small black coronet of bronze twisted snakes in her hair to the shimmering black slippers she wore on her feet. Entranced, Helena said nothing as they circled one another, not even reacting when he was pressed her back into the wall he had occupied.

She let out a small gasp as her back brushed against the red hanging silk, and before she could speak a word his hand stroked her cheek and trailed down her jawline to her neck. Helena’s fluttered her lashes as his surprisingly soft touch shot waves of pleasure through her, unaware that his arms and body had caged her against the wall.

“You are new here,” he whispered into her ear, his breath teasing her lobe. “You must be. I would remember someone so tempting, gracing our little pocket of darkness.”

Eyes still closed, Helena nodded. His sensual touch against her throat was making every fiber of her body spark with life. Her back relaxed into the silk as she let his fingers continue to trail again over her jawline, down her throat, and then gasped again as he gently gripped the back of her neck. He drew closer, the scent of sandalwood mingling with his body heat making her warm and dizzy.

She opened her mouth slightly as he dipped his head close to her, and inhaled softly as the tip of his nose trailed from her jaw to her collarbone. A low, rumbling sound of approval came from his chest as he took her in.

“Honeysuckle,” he noted with praise, pulling back with a smile so sinful she felt her knees attempt to buckle.

“Do we have Persephone among us?” he teased, pulling away to look in her eyes. “Mmm, with those blue eyes sparkling with life, I believe that is who you are,” he said, answering himself.

She knew the Greek tale of Persephone. How she was stolen by Hades, the lord of the underworld, to be his bride. However, instead of giving into her husband’s darkness and drowning in sorrow, she had tricked him at his own game, and for half of each year she walked the earth during the time of sun and warmth. That was the version of the tale she loved the most. Despite knowing nothing about this man before her, Helena felt flattered by the comparison and nodded once more.

The man’s wicked smile grew wider as he reached for the hand holding her wine glass, and with gentle fingers guided it to her lips. Desire poured through her and tingled into her empty fingertips as she willingly parted her lips for him. He let out a deep hum of pleasure as she accepted the small sip that he carefully poured into her mouth.

“You like not having to think, do you not?” he whispered, tracing his fingertips down her throat as she slowly swallowed.

Helena felt a jolt of terror at having her desire summarized into one short statement by this stranger. How had he known, when she had never found the proper words to describe what she was seeking?

“Do not be afraid of me,” Hades said, his deep voice coaxing as he slowly drank in the fear emanating from her eyes. “Would you like another drink?”

Drawing in a shaky breath, Helena nodded numbly. This time, though, instead of bringing the glass to her lips, he brought it to his own and took a pull of the wine as his eyes remained on hers. The hand around her throat slowly traced upwards until his fingers were curled around her jaw. At the soft caress of his fingertips, Helena parted her lips, and her body felt warm and heavy as he slowly brought his mouth down to hers.

He stopped just a breath before his lips could brush against hers, and slowly trickled the wine from his mouth into her own. A soft whimper left Helena’s lips as the wine touched her tongue, and she began to tremble as her throat greedily worked to devour the small trickle of liquid.

As she swallowed, dizziness exploded within her, and she swayed as a rush of carnal need ebbed out of the explosion. In a second, the glass of wine was gone from his hand, and he was letting out a deep, taunting chuckle as he helped her lean back against the wall.

“I would love to take that as a yes, little Persephone,” he teased in a cruel yet comforting tone, “but I am going to have to hear you say the word.”

His hand then came up to her face again, cupping her chin in a way that allowed him to glide his thumb over her wine-damp bottom lip. She whimpered at the sensation; her nerves snapping with white-hot energy.

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