Demon King (Claimed By Lucifer #1) - Elizabeth Briggs Page 0,24
whirled, the night view of the city framing him with a neon glow, contrasting with his stylish, tailored suit and dark hair. He looked me over and a muscle flexed in his jaw, while his gaze turned hungry. "You look like—" He paused as if searching for the word, and then his lips took on a wicked curve when he found it. "Sin."
I found myself unable to tear my gaze from his mouth, as the word sin settled over me like a seductive caress on my exposed skin. If there was ever a man who embodied sin, it was him.
“Shall we?” he asked, offering his hand.
I lightly rested my fingers in his, and let out a sigh at the little shock that always ran through me when we touched. “Where are we going?”
“My rooftop nightclub, Pandemonium. There’s a band playing tonight that I think you’ll like.”
We exited the penthouse, ignoring the guards, and entered the elevator. I didn’t know if I’d ever get used to having handsome, burly men standing outside the door, but at least I only had a few more nights to deal with it. Soon all of this would be like one of those dark fairytales, a cautionary story I’d tell about how I once was a billionaire’s side piece for a few nights.
“Thank you for the flowers,” I said, as soon as we were inside the elevator. “But how did you know they were my favorite? And then there was the coffee this morning, and the emeralds... Are you stalking me?”
“I do my research.” He raised one of those perfect dark brows at me. “I like to know who I’ll be making deals with and allowing into my home. Need I remind you that you’re the one who came to me to ask for a favor?”
My cheeks flushed, but I wasn’t satisfied with that answer. Nor with the ever-present feeling that he was familiar somehow. “Did we know each other before the accident?”
He tilted his head. “Accident?”
The elevator opened onto the roof before I could answer. Music and lights blasted me in the face as soon as we stepped out, and all previous thoughts died away when I saw who was playing on the small stage.
“Is that The Hellions?” I asked, raising my voice to project over the music.
Without waiting for his reply, I hurried forward to get a better look. The rooftop club had a pool on one side of the stage and a bar on the other, and was open to the night sky above us and the flashing lights of Vegas all around. It was also so exclusive that I didn't even have to push through a crowd to get to the stage. People stood around, dancing to the sound of The Hellions’ newest songs, but I was able to go straight to the front.
How was this possible? The Hellions were huge, like selling out giant concert venues huge, but here they were in a tiny, intimate venue. I could almost reach up and touch the singer’s black combat boot while he crooned about lost love.
As I moved in time to the beat, I noticed Lucas standing beside me, watching me with unblinking intensity. I turned toward him. “Was this in your report too? My favorite band?”
He leaned close with one hand on the small of my back, in the spot where the dress had an intricate cut-out. When his fingers touched my bare skin, I stilled, unable to focus on the music as heat rushed between my thighs. His sensual voice came through loud and clear in my ear, as if we were in a room alone. “I’m very thorough. As you’ll soon learn for yourself.”
“You got them to play here, in your nightclub, on such short notice?” I drew in a shaky breath. “For me?”
He let that hand trail a tiny bit lower, hovering just above the curve of my butt. “I did, yes.”
I couldn’t help but be impressed. I hated to admit it, but he was winning me over a tiny bit, no matter how hard I tried to resist his charms. Clothes, jewels, shoes—those felt like buying me off. But my favorite flowers? My favorite band? That was something else.
“They couldn’t say no to me,” Lucas continued talking as if my thoughts hadn’t carried on racing forward at a million miles per hour. “They’re demons, you know. Imps, actually. Their kind tends to become musicians, actors, that sort of thing. Imps always crave the spotlight. Don’t worry, I paid