skin just under the hem of the dress, right above the back of my knees.
You seem a bit wobbly. His voice was a purr overlaying my thoughts. Perhaps I should make you crawl.
Don’t push your luck, I hissed back.
I’m not. He caressed my legs. I’m pushing you.
Before I could snap in response, he turned me around, patted my butt, and gently shoved me forward while answering a question Zaquiel had just asked.
Over there, right-hand corner, he said in my mind.
And indeed, the spot he’d indicated held what looked like a small bar, demon bartender included. Azazel could have just called him—or any of his other underlings—over to serve him, but of course sending me to do his bidding was a clear statement, part of our charade.
Taking a deep breath to steady myself, I carefully crossed the room. Much to my dismay, I was a bit wobbly, which is why I walked with deliberate slowness. It didn’t help my nerves that my leisurely stroll through the room drew what felt like extra attention from the demons milling about. Now that I was out of Azazel’s force field of sexual allure, a little self-consciousness crept back into me.
I’d never been comfortable being the focal point in a group, and crowds had always made me slightly twitchy. I often wished I had an ounce of Taylor’s extroversion, her natural ability to command a room. Give her five minutes, and she had any stranger wrapped around her finger, delighting in their attention.
Me? I was glad if I managed an interaction with a person I barely knew without embarrassing myself...and not pull a stunt like that one time I ended a phone call to my doctor’s office with “Goodnight!” at 10 in the morning because my brain hadn’t fully run through the appropriate terms of farewell and picked the right one.
All the way over to the bar, I practiced what I was going to say in my head, just to be sure. Apart from Azazel, Azmodea, Mammon, and Zaquiel, this would be the first other demon I’d actually talk to, and I didn’t want to bungle this up.
I need a drink for Azazel, I thought.
No, that wasn’t quite right.
A drink for Azazel, and one for me.
Better.
I’d like a drink for Azazel, and one for me, please.
Best one yet?
But what kind of drink? He hadn’t specified. Did they have the same beverages down here as on Earth? My food sure had been familiar.
I fidgeted, almost at the bar now. I felt the eyes of at least half a dozen demons on my back.
The practice sentences tumbled over one another in my mind. I laid my hands on the bar, inhaled deeply and said with full bravado, “I drink a need for Azazel.”
Mortified, I closed my eyes. Where was that fucking hole in the ground to swallow me when I needed it?
Glass clinked against glass, and then a male voice said, “Don’t we all?”
I opened one eye to peer at the bartender.
The demon raised a blond brow, the hint of a smile on his lips. “The usual for him?”
I gulped. “Sure. And one for me.”
The bartender poured from a bottle with golden liquid. “And what would you like? Besides Lord Azazel over there?”
Ha, ha.
Remembering my role in the charade, I plastered on a sufficiently smitten look. “Water will do.”
I really didn’t need an alcoholic drink in my current condition.
The bartender handed me the two glasses, and I managed to extract myself from the situation without further embarrassment. Yay!
The way back seemed easier. Maybe it was the enchanting rhythm of the music, its beat a primal call to the parts of myself that knew how to walk with a swing in my hips, how to let my movements flow with a touch of sinuous grace. And maybe it was the way Azazel watched me from his spot on the chaise lounge, a hint of feral hunger on his face.
With all the demons in this room—each and every one of them physically enthralling—I was the one who drew his focus, who made him look like he was one step away from pushing me against the wall and—
I took a big gulp from my water. My skin felt too tight, as if stretched thin over nothing but unquenchable desire.
By the time I reached the chaise lounge, I’d drained my glass, and I was still burning up.
Crap.
I was about to take a desperate sip from Azazel’s mysteriously golden drink when he grabbed my wrist and pried the glass from my fingers.