Total pages in book: 123
Estimated words: 119694 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 598(@200wpm)___ 479(@250wpm)___ 399(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 119694 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 598(@200wpm)___ 479(@250wpm)___ 399(@300wpm)
Kael’s grin falters for just a moment before he bares his teeth.
“I see your point—neither of us wins if we speak. We both burn in the Magistrate’s wrath.”
“Then let’s not waste time.” Lucian’s tone is clipped, every word deliberate. “You want profit, Kael? Name your price. I’ll pay it. Just give her back.”
Kael tilts his head, intrigued.
“I never thought I’d see the day the Don of the Crimson Syndicate stooped to bargain with a lowly demon.”
Lucian’s eyes flare scarlet.
“Call yourself what you like. But do not think for a moment I will leave without her. Julia is my Fated Mate—she is mine.”
For a long, tense moment there is only silence while the two of them stare at each other. My heart hammers against my ribs, the heat from Kael’s lust magic still clawing at me, making me shiver and squirm.
Lucian’s gaze flicks to me, and something dark and possessive flickers in his eyes—he can see what Kael has done, how close I am to breaking—to coming.
Kael drums his clawed fingers on the arm of his throne, considering. Then his smile returns, wicked and sly.
“Very well. Payment, then. I want no coins, no jewels. Give me one vial of your blood, Lucian. Pure, untainted—straight from your vein. Thirstborn blood is priceless. With it, my Flesh Peddlers can brew pleasures even your kind would kill to taste.”
Lucian’s jaw tightens.
“You’re asking a fucking lot.”
Kael spreads his hands.
“The Curvy Queen is worth a lot…isn’t she?” His molten gaze sears me, making my skin crawl.
Lucian nods shortly.
“Done—I’ll give you a vial of my blood. But Julia walks free with me—untouched from this moment, including by your magic.”
“Agreed.”
Kael chuckles in anticipation as a demon with a needle and a vial rushes forward to take the payment. Lucian slips off his expensive suit jacket and rolls up a sleeve. The transaction takes almost no time and before I know it, he’s putting his jacket back on. To my surprise, the Demon Don hands the golden signet ring back to the guard who brought me in, and he gives it to Lucian, who slips it into his pocket without comment.
“We’re leaving now,” he says and it’s not a question.
The Demon Don nods.
“Fine—you may go. You’re free to leave the Carnal Bazaar.” He leans forward, eyes glinting. “If you can get past my gates.”
The room gets suddenly hotter, the torches flickering like they’re laughing with him.
“That won’t be a problem,” Lucian says coolly.
He turns his gaze back to me. In two strides he’s at my side. His arms slide under me—one beneath my knees, one at my back—and he lifts me as though I weigh nothing—which I promise you, is not the case.
I gasp, clutching at his shoulders, the lust spell still making my skin burn. His scent surrounds me—dark spice, smoke, clean masculine skin—and I want to bury my face in his neck and just breathe him in. Somehow, I resist.
“I…I can walk,” I point out in a faltering voice.
“I don’t think so. Hold on, my Queen,” he murmurs, his voice pitched low for me alone. His eyes blaze red as he glares back at Kael. “This bargain is done.”
Kael just laughs, deep and mocking, as Lucian sweeps me from the throne room, carrying me out of the demon’s palace and into the firelit streets beyond.
My heart pounds, half with terror, half with relief. It feels so good to be held in Lucian’s arms—too good. The heat inside me hasn’t faded—it lingers—pulsing and hungry between my thighs and at the tips of my breasts. And I know one thing with terrifying certainty…
I’ve never wanted anyone the way I want him right now.
30
Jules
The world is a blur of sensation, a fever dream painted in shades of shadow and sin. Lucian carries me through the Carnal Bazaar, his arms are like flexible steel wrapped around me. My cheek is pressed against his chest, where I can hear the slow, deliberate beat of a heart. It’s a comforting, terrifying rhythm.
Around us, the Bazaar unfolds in a dizzying rush. I see it in flashes, like glimpses through a cracked mirror. Stalls draped in velvet the color of bruises and fresh blood…the cloying, sweet scent of exotic perfumes and burning incense, undercut by the musk of sweat and something darker, spicier—desire itself, given a smell.
I hear the low murmur of countless conversations…the clink of strange coins…the wet, rhythmic slap of flesh from curtained alcoves…and occasional sighs that are pure pleasure or pure agony—I can’t tell which. Demons of every shape watch us pass with eyes that gleam like polished jet, their smiles revealing too many teeth. The air is warm, thick, and heavy, pressing down on my skin like a damp weight.
It’s all too much. I bury my face against Lucian’s broad chest, breathing in his scent—warm, spicy, and undeniably masculine with a faint, metallic whisper of power. It’s my only anchor in this sea of chaos.