Sacrifice of Darkness - Alexandra Ivy Page 0,1

shoulder. At the same time, he glanced toward the female, who pressed herself tightly against the wall, watching him with large eyes.

An emotion he’d never experienced before detonated inside him.

Javad hissed, feeling oddly dizzy. What the hell was happening? He’d taken a thousand blows during his years as a fighter. Never once had he felt as if his knees were going weak. Nor had his head spun.

Shocked by the intensity of his reaction to the unknown female, he allowed his gaze to sweep over her delicate features framed by thick, honey-colored curls. Her eyes were the most amazing shade of lavender, her nose a narrow blade. Her lips a lush invitation.

He tilted back his head, absorbing her scent. Aloe vera? He frowned. Who was she?

And why the hell did he feel an overwhelming urge to toss her over his shoulder and carry her to his private rooms?

Annoyed by the unexpected emotions that churned within him, Javad dug his fingers into Rastiv’s shoulder and jerked him around.

“I warned you what would happen the next time I caught you forcing yourself on a female.”

Rastiv scowled, his thick skin covered with scales, and tusks sticking out of his lower jaw.

“Nymph, mine,” he grunted. The tusks were formidable weapons, but they made it difficult for the male to speak.

Nymph? Javad’s gaze shot toward the female. She looked like a nymph, but there was something…else. Some power he could sense but couldn’t name.

“Tough. I told you to let her go.”

“No.” The goblin grabbed the hilt of the war hammer he had strapped around his broad waist. Almost as if he was stupid enough to try and challenge Javad. “Mine.”

Javad narrowed his gaze. “I gave you an order.”

“You go ‘way.” Rastiv grabbed his dick in a lewd gesture. “I make female scream.”

The nymph made a small sound of terror, and Javad’s anger combusted into a blinding fury. He told himself it was because he hated creatures that abused those smaller and weaker than themselves. Perhaps ironic, considering that he was a fighter. But he never entered the cage with an unwilling opponent.

It wasn’t until he felt the earth shake beneath his feet that he suspected this was more than just anger at the goblin being a disgusting pig. Damn. He usually maintained iron-clad control over his ability to cause small earthquakes. No one wanted tons of rock collapsing on their head. Losing control meant that his emotions must be nearing their breaking point.

Javad sought the lavender gaze, holding it for just long enough to ensure that it was imprinted on his memory. Then, slowly, he turned to face Rastiv.

“I warned Vynom that you were an undisciplined liability,” Javad drawled. “You’ve proven me right.”

The goblin scowled. Big words tended to confuse him. Of course, putting his shoes on the correct feet tended to confuse him.

“Me fighter.” He pounded his chest. “Me best fighter.”

Ah. Javad allowed a cold, humorless smile to curve his lips. Any creature who had to boast they were the best, proved that they weren’t. And Rastiv was obviously chafing at the knowledge he would always be second-best.

Javad reached out, grabbing Rastiv’s tunic. Then, with the strength that had made him the most feared warrior in the world, he picked the goblin off his feet and tossed him across the narrow space.

A smattering of laughter sounded from the nearby crowd as Rastiv smashed into the wall with enough force to crack the marble, but Javad barely heard their twittering. He was entirely focused on the infuriated goblin as he jumped to his feet and lowered his head.

He didn’t know why Rastiv wasn’t scurrying away. Perhaps the creature had convinced himself that he was capable of defeating Javad. Or, more likely, he hoped to impress the onlookers. The idiot had always been jealous of Javad’s fame.

It didn’t matter to Javad. He spread his feet, anticipation coursing through his body. He was going to make Rastiv pay for every second he’d terrorized the beautiful nymph.

Every. Single. Second.

Chapter 1

Javad was renowned throughout the demon world. Over the past century, he’d created a posh, outrageously elite demon club. The Viper’s Nest in the heart of Vegas was by invitation only, and creatures literally begged on their knees for an opportunity to walk through the doors. Some he let in. Most he didn’t.

Most of his customers would be shocked to discover that he hadn’t started his existence in elegant surroundings.

They had no idea he’d been hauled from one seedy pigsty to another. Barren caverns, crypts, lava pits, and sweltering swamps.