Although she hated to admit it, Loren knew he was right, so she braced herself before tossing back the second shot. Heat rippled from the crown of her head to her toes as the magic spread through her system. The warmth certainly helped, though she could do without that awful taste. It lingered on her tongue, sharp and burning, and as the seconds wore on it spread into her stomach and settled there like a flame.
A squeal of excitement pierced the air, causing Loren to jolt and accidentally elbow Darien in the abs. She muttered an apology, but she was soon distracted by the person who had let out the squeal.
A hellseher with a blunt mahogany bob was sprinting to their table, where she was met by Lace, who practically knocked Tanner over in her attempts to scramble out of the booth. The hacker grumbled about how he should’ve stayed home as he waved down another waitress to order a drink.
“That’s Aspen Van Halen,” Darien whispered to Loren. “She’s a Reaper and Lace’s best friend. Since I recently repaired our friendship with the Reapers, Aspen is finally able to talk to Lace again without the risk of being excommunicated.”
“Malakai would’ve stripped her of her title for something so little?” Loren knew nearly all the names of the Darkslaying hellsehers in the city, and she certainly wasn’t the only one. It was the kind of knowledge a person tended to gain simply by living in a place like this. The two most well-known and feared circles in the city belonged to Darien and Malakai.
“Yes,” Darien said. “Mercy is a foreign word to most circles.”
She turned slightly so she could eye him up. Maybe she was biased, but he was the hottest man in this place. She knew she likely wasn’t the only woman who would love to unbutton the black shirt that fit him like a glove. “Guess he liked your peace offering quite a bit, huh?”
Darien merely gave her a dark smile.
Aspen, who was now saying her greetings to the other Devils, took note of Loren sitting pressed up against Darien’s side, put her hands on her hips, and looked her over from head to toe. “Well, well, well, what do we have here, Darien?” She was grinning from ear to ear. “I see you’ve plucked yourself a pretty little wallflower. What’s your name, honey?”
Darien spoke before Loren could answer her. “Aspen, this is Loren,” he said. “Loren, meet Aspen.”
Loren pivoted in the booth and held out a hand to Aspen. “It’s a pleasure to meet—”
But Aspen suddenly bounced forward, grabbed Loren around the back of the head, and bent down to kiss her. Loren turned her face just far enough to not get smacked right on the lips, instead taking the wet kiss on the corner of her mouth.
Blinking rapidly in shock, her face turning a deep shade of scarlet, Loren glanced at Darien—
Only to see that he was fighting a smile. And there was a glint in his eyes that suggested he wasn’t exactly repulsed by what he’d just watched.
Words continued to escape Loren as she swung her head back around to face Aspen. She was suddenly regretting having taken both shots of Ignis’s Fire, for she was certain she was turning as red as the drink.
The Reaper was beaming at her. “You’re just the hottest little thing I’ve ever seen,” Aspen crooned. She took hold of Loren’s hand that was still frozen in midair and shook it. And she kept Loren’s hand pinned in her black-painted claws as she went on to say, “If you need anything—and I meananythingat all—I’m here for you.” The implications were clear as daylight, and Loren felt the heat in her face spreading down to her toes. Sweat seemed to sprout out of areas of her body she hadn’t known were possible to sweat out of.
The male Devils at the table howled with laughter, and even Darien couldn’t seem to fully stifle the smile that crept to his lips.
Loren ducked her head, her hair falling over her shoulder like a curtain of light. “Thank you,” she sputtered. “I mean…I guess.”
Aspen only laughed, the sound like silver bells.
Loren was more than glad when Lace suggested that Aspen accompany her to the bar across the dancefloor. The Reaper linked arms with the blonde Devil and disappeared with a wave of her fingertips and a backward glance in Loren’s direction that assured her she’d soon be back for more.
“She’s very pleasant,” Loren said to Darien. She eyed him up—the dimple that was still betraying his amusement. “You enjoyed that quite a bit, didn’t you?”
A full smile appeared. “Can you blame me?” But then his attention suddenly fixed on something behind her. “Baylor’s already taken notice of you. I suppose we have Aspen to thank for drawing his attention.” He grabbed her around the middle, and Loren held her breath, her whole body electrifying as he pulled her into his lap. “Time to get this show on the road.”
Loren stopped breathing as Darien angled her so that she was facing the roomful of people, her back pressed against his torso.
Suddenly, she was an object on display, a mortal puppet perched upon a Devil’s knee. More than just Baylor was looking at her now, and Loren felt her body tensing up at the realization of what had to be done. Even the man sitting across from Baylor had turned to look over his shoulder, clearly interested in what had drawn his companion’s attention.
Darien slipped a hand through the slit in Loren’s skirt and tucked it between her thighs—in a show of claim, she realized—while his other wrapped around her bare midsection.
Was it just her, or was it suddenly very hot in here? She wanted to blame it on Ignis’s Fire, but she knew that couldn’t be it. No—the heat she was feeling had everything to do with how close she was to Darien.
That and how many eyes were watching them, the immortals in this place clearly interested in Darien’s new plaything. She wondered about the type of girls he usually brought here that had led to their extreme interest in his affairs. She thought it was safe to say he’d never brought anyone like her—a mortal—here before.
Loren found herself sinking down, wishing badly that she could hide, wondering what had possessed her to agree to this plan. Every part of her body was hyper-aware of how close she was to Darien—so close that she could feel his body heat, so close that she could smell the aftershave on his skin, the slight hint of that mouth-watering cologne he always wore.
Darien’s arm tightened around her midsection, his thumb stroking a comforting pattern across her ribs. “Don’t do that, sweetheart,” he said softly. He pressed a kiss to her temple, making her heart skip a beat, and kept his mouth there as he said against her skin, “Don’t duck your head, don’t hide. We’re roleplaying, remember? An hour, maybe two, and we can leave.”
An hour, maybe two, and she wouldn’t be this close to him again, wouldn’t be sitting in his lap, wouldn’t have his strong arms wrapped around her waist.
