Page 30 of Demon’s Temptation

His deep tone demanded obedience, and she had to force herself to comply. Everything about the situation felt wrong in every way. Was she really going to do this? Stand naked in front of a male she wasn’t attracted to in the slightest, let him touch her body, control her, tie her up?

She could still back out if she wanted to.

But how could she look at herself in the mirror again if another demi was slaughtered and there’d been a chance that she could have stopped it? That by doing her part in this war, she could have prevented it.

Taking a deep breath, she loosened the laces of her corset and slid it down her legs. After unzipping her boots, she set them aside and removed her skirt. That left her in her bra, panties, and fishnet stockings.

“The bra, too, Chaya.”

Shit. She shook off her rising panic. Reaching back, she undid her bra, letting it slide down her arms. Not allowing herself to think about what she was doing, she walked to the cross in a kind of daze and stood waiting for his next order.

He moved in and walked around her slowly. “You have a beautiful body. Exquisite breasts.” He stopped in front of her and trailed a finger across her collarbone then down over the top of her breast, circling her nipple. It puckered under his touch. But it was a purely physical response and left her feeling shallow, empty in a way that made her bite her lip to hold back a whimper.

“Turn around. Lift your arms,” he whispered roughly against her ear.

She did as he asked, going against every single one of her instincts, and tried to fight a wave of panic as he secured coarse rope around each wrist. A sense of wrongness, even stronger than before, overpowered her.

What am I doing?

She tried to convince herself again that she could do this. That it would mean nothing, that this was all about the cause, but she suddenly realized, for her, this did mean something. Nothing about this felt right. Not here in this club that despite all the warm lighting felt cold and clinical, not tied to this cross—and not with this male.

Ice snaked its way through her veins and she tugged, trying to free her hands. “I’ve changed my mind.”

He chuckled, dark and low. “It’s just nerves, my sweet. Nothing more.” He moved in close and brushed her hair away from her shoulder. “I promise I’ll take care of you. You need to trust in that. You need to trust me.”

She didn’t. Of course she didn’t trust him. And she’d just let him tie her up. Her back was to him. She had no idea what was coming. She was utterly vulnerable, completely at his mercy.

Grace had the guy at the door on payroll and had said she’d arrange for someone to be at the club, that they’d be watching and would get her out if she ran into trouble. Chaya looked around desperately. She didn’t recognize anyone. Were they watching now?

Ah, shit. She was on the verge of a panic attack. She started sucking in big gulps of oxygen until she felt dizzy. Her brain had turned to mush and she couldn’t think. God, she felt like she was drowning. What was the safe word again? She squeezed her eyes shut. “Let me go. I want you to let me go. Now.”

“That is not how you speak to your master, now is it?” She could hear the smile in his voice. “Oh dear. Now I’ll have to punish you.”

The lights went out for a split second and the music went up, then a strobe started, disorientating her. She blinked out into the club. It was too dark, and she could only see flashed snapshots of the people there.

Pale faces, people moving, coming closer.

Chaya screamed.

Chapter 9

Brent flashed the plain white card at The Dungeon’s door attendant. He’d been forced to call in more than one favor to get hold of one of the elusive visitors’ passes. They weren’t easy to come by, and unless you knew someone who frequented this place, you were shit out of luck.

Coming here hadn’t exactly been top of his bucket list, but after a frantic call from James, who was supposed to be here but his contact fell through and he had no way of getting in, Brent had no damn choice. The other male had been sparse on details—there hadn’t been time, since Brent had to chase down a pass of his own—but James was going to text once Brent was in and fill him in.

What he did know was one of Grace’s demi was here undercover and needed backup or at least help with a quick escape if necessary.

No, Brent hadn’t joined their numbers, not with his association to the knights, but he knew Grace, and James had asked for his help as a personal favor. He was a good male, a friend, and Brent would help any way he could. James’s call had come as a surprise, though. He’d had no idea the male was part of Grace’s band of vigilantes.

Stepping through the door, he was struck instantly by the intensity of emotion swirling around the room. The place smelled of sex and need. The taste was heady. The cries, screams, and moans of pleasure that filled the large space crashed over him. Drawing out the incubus, the predator. He wanted to feast on their lust, their pain. Get drunk on it. Brent couldn’t stop himself from sucking in a gasping breath as the heady mix kept coming, hitting him low in the gut. He was in incubus heaven.

But overindulging was dangerous. He knew that all too well. So he locked it down, blocked it out. He needed a clear head, and if he carried on gorging himself like he was, he wouldn’t be capable of helping anyone, and worse, would make himself vulnerable.

Something he would never allow himself to be again.

He moved through the room, observing, playing the voyeur, something he did not enjoy one damned bit, while he waited for James’s text with further instruction. The male had been extremely vague, apart from get the fuck there as soon as possible.

As he feigned interest in a particular scene, the lights dropped, the music increased in volume, and a strobe started flashing across the room.