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And yet this was fucking paradise compared to where he was headed. Declan exited the club, inhaled the cool, wet air, and pulled the collar of his jacket up around his ears. He chanced a glance toward the tall clock tower. It was barely visible amidst the ever-swirling fog.
For the moment Ana was safe; it was up to him to finish the job and get her out. He peered into the darkness. The dunes. A shudder rushed over his flesh.
He disappeared into the shadows and missed the tall form that slipped into view.
Samael unclenched his hands and frowned. He stared into the back alley that Declan had just traversed. He itched to follow. To make sure things got done.
Instead he reached for the door and entered Club Doom, which in fact was his. It wasn’t as quaint as the Grease Pit, there were no orders of poutine available, or humans to play with, but it did provide an endless bounty of darkness. And a good demon needed a certain amount of crap in his diet.
He paused, swept the dark aviators from his face, and took in the scene before him. It was full of every kind of demon imaginable and anything in between. Shades, vampires, shifters . . . anyone or anything sentenced to the fringes of Hell. His tall form moved with the grace of a much smaller being and he was aware of the interest he created, of the eyes that followed him.
And then slid away to avoid contact.
They were afraid of him. Of the power he represented. And they should be. Samael was a grand duke, a demon lord who commanded an impressive army of over one thousand legions of doom.
He made his way to the bar and tossed his leather coat at Jim, the bartender. The red demon had his favorite brew ready and he grabbed it, took a long swig, and leaned toward his trusted employee.
Time to test the waters, see if Declan was on track.
“Anything interesting happen while I was gone?” His voice was light, inquisitive.
Jim tapped a keg. “Not really. Some crap dude who crawled up from District Three pissed Tasha off, but that’s about it.”
Samael sniffed the air and turned to the right. The shadows were particularly strong there but he knew bodies hid amongst them. He finished his beer, wiped his mouth, and turned.
“Pour me another. I’ll be right back.”
A shade passed in front of him, its ghostly smile etched in a permanent macabre greeting. He ignored it, pushed through it, in fact, and quickly made his way toward the shadows.
He let the darkness cover him, inhaled the magic of its scent as he felt its coolness caress his face. He saw them. Tasha’s body pressed tight between the legs of a massive demon—green skin, brainless, and no doubt well hung—an apt plaything for her.
He watched them for several seconds as their bodies rocked in a raw, frenetic dance. He enjoyed their base display of the sex act and just when victory would have been theirs, when she moaned on the cusp of orgasm, he cleared his throat. The demon snarled, its eyes glowing a fiery red as it turned its massive head his way. The tongue that darted out fell limp, lolling to the side as it panted and moaned in an almost painful fashion.
Immediately it pushed Tasha from its body. “Sorry to offend, master, I had no idea she was yours.”
“What the—” Tasha whirled around, breasts hanging freely, mouth pulled back in a menacing growl. The surprise on her face fled quickly as she stepped away from the demon and bowed her head. “Samael.”
He nodded toward the demon and watched, amused at the speed the beast gained in its attempt to get away from him. He then turned to Tasha.
“I hear someone from District Three is trolling my club,” Samael said lightly.
Tasha made a face, her fingers twirling around the hard nipples of her exposed breasts. It was a nervous gesture and one he would forgive. He could, after all, end her with the flick of his wrist.
She nodded, swallowed, and met his eyes. Score one for the demon whore. It was more than most of the patrons in his club could muster.
“I didn’t get his name, but he’s looking for, uh . . . Seth.”
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nbsp; Samael’s face remained blank and he said not a word, but turned toward the bar. Good. O’Hara was headed in the right direction. Seth would be able to provide a way to the District Three without Samael’s interference. The less he was involved, the better.
“He had a woman here, too. Not sure about her.” Tasha spoke quickly, and Samael paused, but didn’t turn back.
“A woman? Another visitor from District Three?”
“I don’t think so. The smell from below didn’t cling to her, to him, either, now that I think of it.”
Samael whirled around, his hands clutching the demon’s head tight. He stared down into her wide, terrified eyes and smiled as he massaged her skull. “This won’t hurt,” he murmured, “too much.”
