No distractions, remember?
“Maybe you ought to go pay the warlock a visit and find out," I force myself to say to push away temptation.
Dorian's on his feet. As usual, he’s shirtless, and his leather pants are tight enough to hide nothing, especially his boner. Blond hair lazily sits half over his eyes as he stares my way. "Or, we just put her through a binding ritual."
A memory of the last binding ritual Elias conducted back in Hell—the one that landed us all in this shithole called Earth in the first place—rises to the surface of my mind. "You want Aria bound to us for eternity? You haven't even met the girl."
He barks a laugh. “And? I grow tired of looking at your ugly mug all the time. And Elias is always down in the basement or in the woods brooding, so why the hell not? We get to sense what she is, and if it doesn't work out, then we have ourselves a feast on her soul. How does that sound?"
"We find out what she is first. I don't want us tied to another fucking problem like last time."
Dorian narrows his eyes. "Shit, man, you're still going on about that. It was a mistake none of us saw. Get the hell over it."
I scoff at his words. "I’m starting to wonder if you actually like it here."
The corner of his mouth quirks up in a smirk that makes him look much younger than he actually is. “It does have its perks,” he says, then flicks his head back to drive the hair out of his eyes. "You know the difference between us? I'm an opportunist. I make the best of where we are. You’ve had a stick up your ass since we got here."
"Fuck you," I growl coldly. He didn’t lose as much as I did—my birthright, my title, the majority of my power. He’ll never understand. Not fully. Being banished has been torture for me, not a vacation.
“Only if you ask nicely,” he teases before blowing me a kiss and sauntering toward the door.
"Where are you going?" Irritation pulses in my temples.
"To jerk off since you sent away my toys."
I growl under my breath and push away from the fireplace. It shouldn’t surprise me his solution is always the quickest and easiest—for him. What he doesn't understand is that every new power we encounter might be an answer to our problem. And unlike him, I can keep my dick in my pants if it means a chance to get us home.
Chapter Four
Aria
My clothes and satchel are exactly where the demon said they’d be—in the bottom dresser drawer. I rummage through my bag and find my rope and the dirty sweatshirt I’d wrapped around the orb, which is safe from harm. Thank. God. My cell phone is completely dead—doesn’t even turn on when I hold the button, so there goes any chance of calling for help. The thing was on its last leg, anyway. But at least with the orb there’s still hope that I can move on from this. My first step is finding a way out of here.
Quickly, I throw on my bra, jeans, sweater, and sneakers, instantly feeling better in my own clothes. I take another glance at the darkening gray skies outside. My plan is an easy one. Once the storm hits, I’ll wait for the rumble of thunder and break one of the windowpanes; hopefully that will be enough to mask the sound of glass breaking. Then I’ll be hauling ass down the rope as fast as I can and running for my life under cover of the storm. Easy. Now to just hope the heavens play nice and pour down.
A knock on the door halts me. My pulse kicks up a notch at the thought of the sexy, blue-eyed demon returning, and not entirely out of fear. I throw my satchel back in the drawer and slam it shut just as the door creaks open. When a young female steps inside, I ease.
There’s an innocence in her hazel eyes and youthful features that makes me think she’s around thirteen years old. Fifteen at most. But despite her age, she wears a long-sleeved, high-neck black frock and white apron, like a servant.
Wow. They’re really trying to sell the old-timey motif, huh? I’m starting to think I’ve been zapped back in time.
She smiles warmly at me, and I find myself returning it out of reflex. After being man-handled by so many men these past few hours, it’s nice to see another girl here.
“Hello, Miss,” she greets me formally. “My Master would like to meet you. I’ve been told to bring you to his chambers.”
“But I’ve met him already,” I start, confused. “He was just here.”
“You’ve met Master Cain. It is Master Dorian who requests your presence,” she replies.
Cain. That’s what the blue-eyed demon’s name is.
Now that I think about it, he had mentioned there being three of them here. My stomach flips at the thought of meeting another one. Another demon.
“And what if I decline?” I ask.
Not expecting my answer, the servant blinks rapidly. Suddenly nervous, she stammers through her next sentence. “I-I-I’ve been given orders to…”
I sigh. Refusing to go with her could mean her punishment, one I’d be the reason for. I couldn’t do that to her, even if she is a stranger. It sucks having a conscience.
If Dorian’s anything like Cain, I need to watch my back. Who knows what these creatures are actually capable of, what sadistic and hellish powers they possess. That means to get out of here alive, I need to follow along and—more importantly—not die.
“Fine, let’s go.” I walk toward the door, making her follow close behind me. We pass a tall, bullish man waiting nearby. Uneasiness crawls over my skin as his eyes track our every move down the hall. They’d had a guard at my door? Good to know. I’ll have to remember that for my great escape later.
The servant guides me around the bend and down a short set of stairs to the second floor. Noises echo from the door at the far end. They sound like nothing at first, but as we get closer, I recognize them as groans of pleasure. Heavy breathing, gasping, and calls of ecstasy.
I hesitate.
What the heck?
The servant slows too, her cheeks reddening. Still, she waves for me to follow. “This way.”
“In there?” Throat tight, I point at the door where the sex noises are coming from. “He's in there?"
She nods.
It sounds like an orgy in there. Or like someone is watching porn at max volume.
"I think your Master is… busy,” I say.
Despite her nervousness, she walks ahead of me and knocks. There’s a final shuddering cry of release, and after a few uncomfortable moments of quiet, the door opens. A shirtless man steps out, the lean muscles of his chest on full display. He’s wearing leather pants, and despite all the moaning, a growing erection can be seen through the skin-tight material. He sweeps gold hair away from his eyes and looks me up and down, grinning broadly.
This has to be Dorian.
Like Cain, he's wickedly handsome. Dangerously so, with a mischievous gleam in his eye that says he's always up to no good and that it’s something he's mighty proud of. But unlike Cain, I can read him easily, and it's clear he's undressing me with his eyes.
Crossing my arms, I shift uneasily on my feet and avert my gaze.
“Well, well. Look at what we have here,” he muses. His voice is silky smooth. Slippery. It glides over my skin, making goosebumps rise. “Cain didn’t say you were such a delectable morsel.”