A statue. The stone guy grabbed her ass, then slid his fingers between her legs on a collision course with her clit.
Enraged, she slapped him. Gah. Agonizing pain shot from her palm to her wrist. Fuck, fuck, fuck! Blinking back tears, she waved her hand to stop the hurt.
Andros maintained his unshakable cool despite her being dumb enough to smack marble. “You all right?”
In this X-rated Twilight Zone? She refused to answer or play further into his games and give him another chance to mess with her head. His authority and powers allowed him to do whatever he wanted, but she’d resist, maintaining her dignity, and would stop him…somehow. “What do you think?”
“My guess would be no.” He tapped his jaw. “That’s too bad, but maybe it would help if I explain something. The concept here is simple. I command. You obey.”
She ground her teeth.
“No dice?” He offered a bland smile, dropped the uniform, and sat. “How about I give you a demonstration on what happens if you defy me?”
Enduring torture wasn’t her thing, but cowering to him and then bullies in a gentleman’s club wouldn’t make the unpleasantness any better. Once the patrons knew she was an easy mark, they’d simply grind her down further for sport. Like what inmates did to new arrivals in prison. No way. She gathered her courage and squared her shoulders. “Bring. It. On.”
He dipped his head. “If that’s what you want.”
Like she had a choice? Longing to kill his smug confidence, she feigned indifference at the impossible situations he kept putting her in. “Do your worst.”
He lifted his hands. “As you wish.”
She sailed across the room without anyone touching her and landed smack in front of him, her freaking clothes history.
That wasn’t the worst. Nudity didn’t bother her.
He did.
His presence imposed and aroused, his big body powerful in the best possible way. His smoky scent hinted at cherry tobacco rather than the expected sulfur. His heat warmed. Damn, it intoxicated.
Encouraging her to cave.
Fuck that. Fight. She had to. Demon or not, no guy ruled her. She stepped back.
An invisible force drew her closer to him.
Shit. She fought his power. “Dammit, let go.”
“If that’s what you want.”
Without his hold on her, she staggered away, straight toward a statue.
“Careful.” His power kept her from colliding with it, his unseen touch assured but gentle, his warmth pouring into her, comforting and arousing.
Her breath spilled out. Her inner thighs tensed. Her pussy ached.
No, no, no. Her reaction was wrong. Fuck, it was insane. Once he drew her into his sexy web, then what? He’d break her?
Never. By the time she was done here, she’d own him.
Chapter Two
Andros
Women didn’t often surprise Andros.
Bethshiba had blindsided him—eons ago. He’d given her his trust and what humans would have considered his heart. Their paradise lasted for a short while before she—
No. He wouldn’t go there. What they’d had and what she’d done to him was in the distant past, even if she’d forever screwed his future. Vespar and Racan’s too. To have them swept into the morass she’d created hurt the most since she’d been his mistake. No more. He’d learned an invaluable lesson from their time together and had since kept his guard up when it came to women. He never allowed them into his innermost desires or thoughts, and simply had fun.
Megan narrowed her eyes, ready for a battle she looked prepared to win.
Playing her way could be sweet, but he had a better idea. With his power at full tilt, he delivered his heat and scent to her, to thrill not repel.
Her lips parted, an appreciative moan escaping them, her head lolling back.
So you do like this.
He smiled but killed his joy fast, unwilling to let it get out of hand. Already, she was altering things here and he couldn’t abide it. For him to take time or pleasure in a condemned’s orientation was unheard of. He told the women the score and then dismissed them to their fate in Hard Lust. No emotion involved.
Certainly not playful teasing as he had with her.
Her pride and grit made yanking her chain too easy. She was definitely something. Curvy and soft, she smelled like vanilla and cinnamon. A delightful fragrance. Even better, she enjoyed his presence.
Unless she was playing him.
His chest cramped, and his suspicion rose. Time to stop fooling around and get with the program.
He cut his heat and scent, then released his power.
She flew back several yards. After wind milling her arms to right herself, she clawed hair off her cheeks.
Her wavy, shoulder-length tresses called to him as few things did. Their chestnut color and reddish highlights enhanced her peaches-and-cream complexion, making it more delicate.
Blinking slowly, she raised her pretty face. Anger burned in her cornflower blue eyes, along with desire she couldn’t mask.
His cock shot to attention and his balls tightened. He fought the urge to sniff her fragrance or indulge in her arousal.
Was it real? A performance? Does it matter?
Hell no. She was here to serve into perpetuity. Affecting his hard-ass persona, as he should have from the beginning, he pointed to her uniform, the straps tangled on the floor. “Put it on.”
“Wait,” Racan said. He materialized next to the desk.
She jumped, then took him in thoroughly—some might say eagerly—from his black hair, tee and jeans, also black, to his naked feet, and the pendant he wore around his neck. Her attention shot from it to the ring Andros wore, both bearing the same symbol.
Racan touched his jewelry. “She’s not ready for the uniform yet.”
That didn’t make sense to Andros. “Why not?” Her current state couldn’t have been more apparent. “She’s naked.”
Her cheeks, throat, and chest flamed. Rather than cover herself, she held her arms to either side and even spread her legs somewhat. Her stance more defiant than seductive or showing off.
Such obstinance should have driven Andros batshit crazy. Instead, he was proud of her for reasons he didn’t want to explore or address. He spoke to Racan. “What more does she need to get ready?”
He gestured to her furry mound. “She’s not fully nude, right?”
Her color deepened further. “You can’t be serious. You’re going to shave me?”