Demon King (Claimed By Lucifer #1) - Elizabeth Briggs Page 0,1
face in the most beguiling way I’d ever seen. The full force of his presence hit me in the gut like a fire bursting into life from the strike of a match. Forget the men outside—they were nothing compared to him. I actually forgot how to breathe under the weight of those eyes, an emerald color I hadn’t realized was humanly possible until today. And that mouth…dear lord, was that a mouth made for sinning. I could already imagine it whispering naughty things in my ears before his lips left a trail of lust down my skin.
Something about him was familiar too. I searched my limited memory for a time I could have met him, but surely I would’ve remembered someone this remarkably gorgeous. No. There was no way we’d met.
Yet… I knew him somehow. Instinctively, primally, deep in the core of my being, he felt like something I… It was right on the tip of my tongue. The thought I couldn’t grasp before it slid away. I refocused, but it was no use. I couldn’t put my finger on it. Maybe I knew him from before the accident? Seemed unlikely, and surely if he knew me, he’d say something.
I realized I was staring and jerked my gaze away, out over the view. Las Vegas in the daytime wasn't nearly as impressive as at night, when the city was lit up as if some preschoolers had sprinkled giant tubs of glitter over an expanse of desert. Even so, the bustling city against the backdrop of the mountains in the distance momentarily took all of my focus, giving me a second to gain my bearings again.
“Tell me your name,” Lucas said.
His voice, that accent, my god.
“Hannah.” I finally met his eyes again. “Hannah Thorn.”
“Hannah.” My name rolled off his tongue like a sip of expensive Scotch. I shook my head and blinked away the thought. I didn’t drink. Why would I think about the smooth burn of a drink I’d never had?
He tore his eyes from me like it was difficult for him to do so. Almost as if he was drawn to me as much as I was to him. A fanciful notion, and one I immediately dismissed as he walked behind the bar.
“Drink?” Lucas held up a decanter and a crystal tumbler that sent a rainbow of light shards bouncing around the room.
“No thanks. I don’t drink.”
He hummed low in his throat, a sound of dissent. “Pity. We could have a lot of fun if we got drunk together.”
He reached for different glasses and shoveled ice into them. Three perfect cubes hit the sides of the glasses with a chinking sound. Then he grabbed a jug of clear liquid from under his counter, and I held up my hand in the universal gesture for stop.
“I meant it. I don’t drink.”
“And I don’t give alcohol to anyone who isn’t a willing recipient.” He picked up his glass and took a big swallow of the contents. “Sadly, just water.”
He held the second glass out to me. As I wrapped my fingers around it, our hands brushed against each other, and the fire in my gut erupted again, sending heat all over my body and down to my core. The feeling that I knew Lucas redoubled, like a memory just outside my grasp, or a word on the tip of my tongue. And with it came a rush of desire so strong it took my breath away.
His gaze intensified. Did he feel it too?
“Sit.” Lucas gestured toward the black leather couches.
I perched on the edge of one and held my glass in both hands, my grip tightening as my nerves stretched thin. Anxiety wound in my chest and mixed with the desire pooling between my thighs, making me feel light-headed. I glanced at the nearby piano, trying to bring my emotions back under control. This was all too big. Much too big. What the hell was I even doing here?
Lucas sat on the couch across from me and spread one arm along the back. He rested an ankle on his knee in the perfect picture of poise and calm control. “Now, how can I be of assistance?”
I took a deep breath, trying to channel some of that calm control for myself, even if I only pretended. I was perfectly happy to fake it, even if I would never make it. Not around someone so disarming.
“My best friend is missing,” I blurted out. Way to fake poise. “Her name is Brandy Higgins. She