Page 44 of Make Me Lie (Rich Demons of Darkwood 1)

My throat felt so swollen, and my voice came out in a rasp. “Very interesting.”

My father rewarded me with a smile. “Now you’re ready to try it on someone else.”

I hesitated, and he said, “Come on, Delilah. You know what this man did to other little girls… we only hunt the bad ones…”

The knock on my door came as I was settling into bed with my book. When I pulled it open, Remington leaned in the doorway, all boyish good looks and casual cruelty.

I noticed that Stellan never came around, which was a blessing. I’d loved the boy once, so seeing him act cruel was devastating.

Remington’s gaze roamed my baggy sweatshirt and duck-printed sleep shorts. “You cannot wear that.”

“I think I can.” I tried to close the door, and he caught it easily, pushed it aside, and sauntered into my room.

“You’re not going to bed. We’re going to a party.”

I noticed he was dressed casually—board shorts and a white t-shirt that clung to his powerful shoulders and the taper of his waist. He was a thing of beauty, even if he was a cruel thing.

“I don’t swim.”

He flashed me a smile. “Stellan told me.”

My heart sank. But he said, “You don’t have to swim, sweetheart, but we’re all going, and we’re not leaving you in this big house alone. You can come with us and hang out on the boat.”

“I don’t have anything to wear.” I wasn’t exactly running out to buy a swimsuit.

“That’s where you’re wrong.” He snapped his fingers, and the door, left half-open behind him, swung open all the way.

The half-dozen servants who worked in the house filed in, all carrying bags and boxes from expensive stores. They put them down on the floor, the bed, in the closet, then filed out and returned with more.

“What’s all this?” I demanded.

“We don’t want you to keep embarrassing us. If we’re going to be seen with you, you can at least look respectable.”

I poked open one of the bags and pulled out a strip of red lace with two strings attached, the purpose of which I could not immediately identify. “Respectable? Are you sure?”

“Be downstairs in ten minutes. I’ve got to go, but Cain is waiting for you.”

“Terrific.” Cain’s name alone stirred something in me, a sudden pulsing heat that reminded me of his fingers between my thighs, his hard muscular body against mine.

Remington blew me a kiss goodbye, then he was gone.

Maybe I could stay the hell away from Stellan tonight. He’d been staying away from me after that crazy—then humiliating—kiss. The worst part was the memories that kiss had stirred, memories I’d locked away to protect us both. The memory of Stellan sliding his hands through my hair, the way his lips felt on mine, the mischievous light in his eyes… that light seemed to have faded since those days.

I rummaged through the bags and pulled out a dozen different options. Red bikini. Black bikini. Tropical-print bikini. One-piece… with the sides all but missing. I didn’t own a swim suit--I’d had no plans to go anywhere near the water—but the guys had certainly provided options.

Skimpy, skimpy options.

I picked out a black bikini and checked that my door was locked, given the tendency of the guys to just walk in. If they wanted to buy me clothes, fine. I certainly deserved something for the shit I was putting up with.

There were a dozen boxes filled with shoes, all with unhelpfully tall heels. I pushed them aside and slipped on my favorite black sandals. I wasn’t wearing heels on a boat. The odds were already too high someone might push me overboard.

I let myself out of my room and rested my fingertips lightly on the doorknob, wishing I could lock it. All the other doors in the hall had locks; mine had a lock, but no key. I wouldn’t trust any key they gave me anyway.

If they wouldn’t let me hide anything from them, then I wouldn’t let them hide anything from me, either. Remington had given me a reason to stay… and it was time I figured out why they wanted me here.

I headed down the sweeping stairs that led to the two-story entrance hall. Cain was facing away from me, his hands shoved in his pockets. There was always a crackling dark energy around him that seemed out of place with his board shorts and the t-shirt clinging to his powerful body, as if Lucifer were on his way to a pool party. The power of his presence—and the way it immediately flooded my body with heat—almost made me miss a stair. I slid and caught myself, grabbing the railing.

He turned at the sound, but by the time his gaze found me, I was head up, shoulders back, dignity on. He didn’t need to know what he did to me.

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