Chapter Four #2
mistake at making himself sound like an obsessed nut job.
“Tracked me down?” Even the temperature of her voice dropped
a couple of frosty degrees.
“Not like a stalker or anything,” he said hastily,
attempting to come off as charming. Not creepy.
He hoped.
“I went by your shop, but your staff told me you were giving
a presentation tonight at a conference in Austria. Took it from there with
research, and here I am.” He put on his best chagrined face. “Not creepy at
all.”
She must have agreed, because there was a slight thaw in her
eyes. “This is a very...exclusive...gathering, Mr. Razr. How did you arrange an
invitation? Especially at the last minute?”
“I’m a fallen angel,” he explained with a hint of fallen
angel-like imperiousness. “I get what I want.”
Hadn’t hurt that Azagoth let Razr
do a little name-dropping, either. No one wanted to piss off the being who
would eventually oversee the future of their soul.
“Really.” Her voice, now completely ice-free, went low, a
caress that stroked him just under the skin. “Intriguing.” She gave him a coy
look as she lifted her glass to her mouth. “So why did you go to so much
trouble to track me down?”
“I’m looking for a very special gemstone, and I hear you’re
the best at locating rare and precious stones.”
“I am,” she said with an arrogance he had to admire. “But
why is this such an emergency that it couldn’t wait until office hours
tomorrow?”
“No emergency.” He shifted closer to her, testing his
boundaries. “It’s just that I saw your portrait on the wall of your shop and
decided I didn’t want to wait to meet you.”
Her ruby lips curved in amusement. “Flattering. But you’re
avoiding the real question.”
Lowering his voice to a conspiratorial whisper, he dipped
his head closer to hers. “The room has ears.”
Most likely, anyway. Mainly, he wanted to get her alone in
case things got...complicated.
“I agree.” She eyeballed him as she stroked the stem of her
glass, her jewel-encrusted fingernails reflecting the hall’s flickering light
in sparkly little bursts. “I’m just trying to decide if I should tell you to
make an appointment or if I should suggest we go somewhere more private to
talk.”
Those nails. He was mesmerized, and his mind kept thinking
about what they’d look like—and feel like—in places much more intimate than the
stem of a champagne flute. Was she doing that on purpose? His dick sure thought
so, and it tapped against the fly of his pants, begging for the same attention.
It was a damned good thing he’d buttoned his jacket.
“I vote for private,” he said, his voice humiliatingly
hoarse. He’d come over to seduce her, but she was clearly the one who held the
cards in this game.
Succubus, for sure.
She made him sweat for a few seconds before finally nodding
toward one of the exits. “I saw a balcony out that way.” She started toward it,
but a flash of light drew his attention, and he reached out to grab her elbow.
“Wait.”
“What is it?”
His gut churned as he checked out the next flash of light.
Then the next and the next. Shit. Not good. He pulled her close and whispered
into her ear.
“Let’s get out of here. Away from this conference.”
“Aren’t you naughty?”
“Yeah. Naughty. Let’s go.”
“But dinner is—”
He took her glass from her and placed both his and hers on a
tray, his alarm growing as robed Ramreel demons with
halberds began to station themselves around the room, the clop of their hooves
ringing out over the sound of the guests and the music.
“Forget dinner.”
“Look, I was invited for a reason,” she snapped, clearly
annoyed by his manhandling. “It would be rude to leave now.”
He nonchalantly shifted his gaze to the four corners of the
room, starting at the northern side. “See the glowing symbols painted on the
walls?” At her nod, he continued. “Those symbolize sacrifice. Sacrifice to
Lothar.”
She frowned. “Who is Lothar?”
“How can you not know who Lothar is?” he asked, incredulous.
Lothar was listed as one of the most famous scumbags in the first chapter of
Demons For Dummies. “Didn’t your demon parents teach
you about the hundreds of patron fiends you can worship? You aren’t limited to
Satan, you know.”
Her haughty sniff announced her irritation. “My parents
didn’t fill our heads with ridiculous fables—”
“They’re not all fables. Definitely not
this one.” He tightened his grip on her arm and made a beeline for the exit.
“Lothar is known as the Prince of Riches. A sacrifice to him gets you
everything you want, and since you are one of the guests of honor...” He
trailed off, letting her finish the thought. At her sharp inhale, he knew she’d
pieced it together.
“I’m either part of the plan to get the riches...or I’m a
sacrifice.”
“Exactly.”
“Well then,” she said crisply, “I don’t see why I need to
hang around.”
Clever, how she made it sound like leaving had been her
idea.
“That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you,”
he ground out.
They’d nearly made it to the main doorway when a big blond
male blocked their escape route. The dark energy emanating from him marked him
as a fallen angel, which meant this could only be Shrike, the fucker who’d put
this whole thing together.
“Leaving so soon?” His smile, showing way too many teeth and
far too much of his gums, was as greasy as his slicked-back hair.
Razr was about to tell the guy to fuck off when Jedda
offered an apologetic smile. “I have a family matter to attend to, Mr. Shrike,”
she said, inching closer to Razr. “And Razr kindly offered to escort me home.
Please accept my apologies as well as my gratitude for a delightful evening.”
Razr had to give her points for diplomacy, but Shrike didn’t
bite. “Unfortunately, I can’t let you do that,” he said. “The festivities are
about to start, and I haven’t had a chance to speak to you about my proposal.”
“Yes, well, this is a bit of an emergency.” Jedda adjusted
her sparkly shoulder bag with an impatient tug. “Why don’t we set up an
appointment at my office for sometime
this week?”
The smile on Shrike’s face turned predatory, and Razr cursed
inwardly. This was about to go south, and the bitch of it was that with Razr’s
angelic abilities bound, Shrike was a fuckton more
powerful than Razr. Any negotiations would be all about Razr’s ability to bluff
his way through shit.
“As I said,” Shrike practically purred, “the festivities are
about to begin.”
Suddenly, the lights shut off, leaving the space lit only by
the flickering flames from the candles and torch sconces on the walls.
Yeah. Real south.
Speculative murmurs rose up, and unholy excitement charged
the air.
“I don’t like this,” Jedda whispered, and Razr experienced
the oddest desire to comfort her. To protect her. And not just because she was
in possession of his gem. Heck, she might be responsible for stealing it and
killing the humans who had been protecting it.
If so, he’d deal with it. But right now
his only goal was to keep her safe.
And to get out of this alive.