Demon King (Claimed By Lucifer Book 1)

by Elizabeth Briggs

  “Should we put this on Mr. Ifer’s account?” a salesman asked.

  “I assume so.” I glanced behind me. No sign of Lucas anywhere.

  I poked my head out of the shop door, searching around for Lucas, and spotted him down the hall. He was talking in a low voice with another man with red hair, and their body language told me it was not a friendly conversation. Then suddenly Lucas grabbed the man around the neck and lifted him up into the air and slammed him against the wall.

  No. Into the wall.

  Plaster went flying and the man left a body-sized dent in it. Meanwhile, Lucas’s hand was still around his neck, holding him there with impossible strength. I could only see his back, but it was enough to send a cold wave of fear through me.

  Lucas dropped the man in the rubble at his feet. “Do not cross me again, or I won’t be so lenient next time.”

  “Yes, my lord.” The man kneeled on the floor and nodded, keeping his head low. He didn’t appear injured, even though he’d just been sent through a wall.

  Lucas brushed plaster dust off his hands and turned toward me, leaving the man kneeling there. He spotted me watching with my mouth hanging open, and gave me a dazzling smile, like everything I’d just seen was totally normal.

  He joined me in front of Tiffany’s and rebuttoned his suit jacket. “Sorry, darling, demon business. Now where were we?”

  “How?” I gestured at the man, who got up and ran out of there as fast as he could.

  “Don’t worry, he’s a shifter. Fox, if you must know. I barely scratched him.” He took my elbow again, his fingers strong and possessive as they dug into my skin. “Shall we continue? I have one more shop I’d like us to visit.”

  I dimly nodded, my throat tight, as Lucas led me down the hall, leaving the plaster rubble behind, to another shop—Alexander McQueen. I had to practically pick my jaw up off the floor as we walked inside past all the beautiful clothes, shoes, and purses. There were actual runway gowns here on display in this secret back room, with capes and feathers and jewels. Real jewels, not tacky sequins. It was almost enough to make me forget what I just saw.

  Lucas had picked that man up by his neck and thrown him into a wall. How did he have that kind of strength? And how had that man walked away without a scratch?

  Could all this stuff about demons actually be true?

  No. Impossible.

  I had no explanation for it, but what I saw did confirm one thing—Lucas was more dangerous than I’d thought.

  “I need a gown fit for a queen,” Lucas said to the salesman. “One of a kind. In her size.”

  “I have the perfect thing,” the smartly dressed man replied in a respectful tone. “I’ll bring it out immediately.”

  Lucas nodded and the man disappeared. I stared at Lucas with fear trailing down my spine, wondering how he could look so casual after such an act of violence. And so disturbingly gorgeous. Fuck, maybe he was the devil. Or at least the closest thing to it.

  The salesman returned carrying an ethereal ball gown that was all black except for tiny crystal stars trailing down to the different phases of the moon along the bottom hem. At the shoulders, silver moon clasps held on a long, sheer black cape with more crystal stars running down it. Everything about it was soft and billowy except for the bodice, which was low-cut and form-fitting. It was the most beautiful gown I’d ever seen in my life.

  Lucas nodded. “Have it fitted for her.”

  I instantly reached out to touch the crystals on the gown, but then pulled my hand back. “It’s lovely, but I can’t imagine I’ll ever have anywhere to wear it.”

  He pinned me with his dark gaze. “On your final night, you’ll be attending the Devil’s Night Ball as my guest.”

  I counted the nights in my head. That was the night before Halloween. “What’s the Devil’s Night Ball?”

  “It’s when the demons honor me as their King.”

  I had no time to process his absurd words before I was whisked away into a dressing room, where a woman helped me put on the gown. Then I stared at myself in the mirror, my face pale, my eyes scared, while I stood in the loveliest dress I’d ever worn. Was this what Persephone felt like when she was kidnapped by Hades? Did Lucas think all the glitz and glamour would hide the dark, seedy depths of his underworld?

  He moved behind me and met my eyes in the mirror, then rested his hands on my shoulders possessively. “Yes, this is the gown. And when you wear it by my side, everyone will know you’re mine.”

  “Only for seven nights,” I said, my voice defiant, even though I was secretly wondering if escape was still an option.

  His lips curled into a dark smile. “We’ll see about that.”

  7

  Hannah

  When we returned from our shopping trip, a whole spread of food awaited us in the apartment, with gourmet sandwiches, fancy meats and cheeses, and a salad with feta cheese. I needed some time to myself after the day’s events, and grabbed some food and retreated to the guest room. But when I opened the door, my breath caught and I nearly dropped my entire plate.

  Flowers and plants now packed my previously sparse guest room, and I inhaled the fresh, floral scents I loved so much. Each corner had a weeping fig tree, and flowers grew in pots along the windowsill, on the desk and side tables, and inside the bathroom. I spotted white lilies, purple violets, blue irises, and white-and-yellow daffodils. No roses, which I found curious, but I didn’t mind. I’d always thought roses were overdone and overrated, especially when there were so many other beautiful plants out there.

  Then it hit me. These were all my favorite flowers.

  How did he know?

  How did he always know?

  Lucas’s voice at my back made me jump. “I thought they might help you feel more at home.”

  “They’re lovely,” I said, trying to keep my voice steady. Between this and his earlier comments I was starting to think he intended to keep me here longer than seven nights. That was never going to happen though. As soon as Brandy was found and my time was up, I was out of here. No matter how rich, powerful, or sinfully sexy he was. Or how thoughtful and generous he was being. “Thank you.”

  “Try to relax and enjoy the rest of your day,” his voice purred. “Take a bath, perhaps. Eat anything you like. We’ll meet at nine for our evening’s festivities.”

  I swallowed and nodded, and he retreated on silent footsteps. Once he was gone I closed the door, let out a long breath, and sat at the desk to eat my sandwich and salad. A small pot of daffodils rested on the table beside my plate, and I admired the star-like white petals circling a yellow center. Even though they were pretty common, daffodils were my favorite flower because they always lifted my spirits. Like harbingers of spring, they popped out of the ground when nothing else in the garden had yet dared to declare victory over winter. Plus, once they were cut, they secreted sap that was poisonous to other flowers, which meant you had to keep them in their own vase. They were like the plant version of introverts, except they poisoned anyone who got up in their space. My kind of plant, indeed.

  The daffodil was also called the narcissus, when you wanted to sound sophisticated anyway. The narcissus was known for being the flower Persephone picked just before the earth opened up and Hades kidnapped her and took her to the underworld. At the thought, I remembered the ancient Greek vase in Lucas’s library and wondered if the daffodil here was connected somehow.

  I shook myself out of my dark thoughts and finished my food, while scanning my phone for any messages or updates, then resorting to glimpsing through old photos of Brandy while praying she was still alive. Then I took Lucas’s suggestion and took a bath in the huge tub, luxuriating in the shampoos and soaps, losing myself in the floral scents with a richness beyond the usual cloying smells I purchased at the local dollar store.

  When I got out, I discovered an entire collection of makeup lined up for my perusal, arranged like the most expensive department store counters. I stared at the pots and tubes and brushes f
or several minutes. It was hard to break the perfect seals and mar the powders pressed in their little dishes. Once they were used, they were used, and I couldn’t shake the feeling they were all wasted on me. I was an eyeliner and lip gloss kind of gal, and I didn’t even know what to do with most of these things. Did they come with a tutorial?

  Fuck it. If I was being held captive by a dangerous billionaire who called himself Lucifer then I deserved all the perks that came with the situation. Like the luxurious toiletries and makeup, along with the clothes and jewelry. Even the fancy shoes. Worst case, I gave them back at the end of my seven day sentence.

  I cracked open the makeup, found a YouTube video explaining how to use it, and went at it. Sometime later, I walked out of the bathroom and found all the clothes from our shopping expedition hanging in the massive walk-in closet. While I’d been playing with eyeliner and foundation, someone had been in my room without me even knowing it. I never expected having staff would actually make me feel more vulnerable. From now on, I’d make sure to lock the doors.

  Then, once I’d ascertained I was safe, I returned my attention to the clothes and tried to decide what to wear tonight. Lucas had mentioned in the car ride back to The Celestial that we were going to an exclusive nightclub, which was so not my normal scene. I wasn’t kidding when I told Lucas I usually spent my nights at home curled up with a book.

  Eventually I picked something that was bolder and sexier than I’d ever normally wear, but I had an idea for how to make the evening less intimidating. If I felt like I was in costume, I could pretend to be someone else for the night, and leave all of my worries here to come back to later.

  After tugging at the tight red dress and sucking in a deep breath, I opened the door and stepped out into the penthouse's living area.

  Lucas whirled, the night view of the city framing him with a neon glow, contrasting with his stylish, tailored suit and dark hair. He looked me over and a muscle flexed in his jaw, while his gaze turned hungry. "You look like—" He paused as if searching for the word, and then his lips took on a wicked curve when he found it. "Sin."

  I found myself unable to tear my gaze from his mouth, as the word sin settled over me like a seductive caress on my exposed skin. If there was ever a man who embodied sin, it was him.

  “Shall we?” he asked, offering his hand.

  I lightly rested my fingers in his, and let out a sigh at the little shock that always ran through me when we touched. “Where are we going?”

  “My rooftop nightclub, Pandemonium. There’s a band playing tonight that I think you’ll like.”

  We exited the penthouse, ignoring the guards, and entered the elevator. I didn’t know if I’d ever get used to having handsome, burly men standing outside the door, but at least I only had a few more nights to deal with it. Soon all of this would be like one of those dark fairytales, a cautionary story I’d tell about how I once was a billionaire’s side piece for a few nights.

  “Thank you for the flowers,” I said, as soon as we were inside the elevator. “But how did you know they were my favorite? And then there was the coffee this morning, and the emeralds... Are you stalking me?”

  “I do my research.” He raised one of those perfect dark brows at me. “I like to know who I’ll be making deals with and allowing into my home. Need I remind you that you’re the one who came to me to ask for a favor?”

  My cheeks flushed, but I wasn’t satisfied with that answer. Nor with the ever-present feeling that he was familiar somehow. “Did we know each other before the accident?”

  He tilted his head. “Accident?”

  The elevator opened onto the roof before I could answer. Music and lights blasted me in the face as soon as we stepped out, and all previous thoughts died away when I saw who was playing on the small stage.

  “Is that The Hellions?” I asked, raising my voice to project over the music.

  Without waiting for his reply, I hurried forward to get a better look. The rooftop club had a pool on one side of the stage and a bar on the other, and was open to the night sky above us and the flashing lights of Vegas all around. It was also so exclusive that I didn't even have to push through a crowd to get to the stage. People stood around, dancing to the sound of The Hellions’ newest songs, but I was able to go straight to the front.

  How was this possible? The Hellions were huge, like selling out giant concert venues huge, but here they were in a tiny, intimate venue. I could almost reach up and touch the singer’s black combat boot while he crooned about lost love.

  As I moved in time to the beat, I noticed Lucas standing beside me, watching me with unblinking intensity. I turned toward him. “Was this in your report too? My favorite band?”

  He leaned close with one hand on the small of my back, in the spot where the dress had an intricate cut-out. When his fingers touched my bare skin, I stilled, unable to focus on the music as heat rushed between my thighs. His sensual voice came through loud and clear in my ear, as if we were in a room alone. “I’m very thorough. As you’ll soon learn for yourself.”

  “You got them to play here, in your nightclub, on such short notice?” I drew in a shaky breath. “For me?”

  He let that hand trail a tiny bit lower, hovering just above the curve of my butt. “I did, yes.”

  I couldn’t help but be impressed. I hated to admit it, but he was winning me over a tiny bit, no matter how hard I tried to resist his charms. Clothes, jewels, shoes—those felt like buying me off. But my favorite flowers? My favorite band? That was something else.

  “They couldn’t say no to me,” Lucas continued talking as if my thoughts hadn’t carried on racing forward at a million miles per hour. “They’re demons, you know. Imps, actually. Their kind tends to become musicians, actors, that sort of thing. Imps always crave the spotlight. Don’t worry, I paid them handsomely too.”

  And now we were back to the demon talk. It had to be some sort of quirky billionaire eccentricity—a way to amuse himself when he could already afford every other sort of amusement in existence, no doubt—but it was really getting old. Of course, it would explain what I saw earlier today… But no. There had to be a more reasonable explanation for that.

  Lucas caught my hand and pulled me close, still laughing. “Dance with the devil?”

  Maybe he was crazy, but as he drew my body flush against his, I found myself melting in his arms. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t bring myself to want to pull away from him. I soon lost myself in the song and the feel of Lucas’s hard chest pushing against mine. Though he was much taller than me, his masculine body molded against mine perfectly, and the sense of rightness I felt in his arms was unlike anything I’d ever felt before.

  His hand on my bare back led me across the floor, and for a few minutes all I knew was the pounding of the bass drum and the tingle where Lucas touched me. I couldn’t deny how much I wanted him at this moment, even if getting involved with someone like Lucas was a terrible idea. Even without his obvious eccentricities, he was powerful, and it was the kind of power tainted by danger. He bargained for the things he wanted but couldn’t buy, and fear as much as lust slid cold fingers down my spine as I considered my position at his side.

  When the song ended and another one began, Lucas left his hand lingering on my back and turned me toward the bar. “Come, let’s get a drink.”

  We walked toward the bar, and many people stopped to notice us, especially the way his hand claimed me. There would be no doubt in any of their minds that I was Lucas’s woman, at least for tonight. For all I knew, he had a new woman on his arm every week.

  As the thought of that made my stomach clench, someone in the crowd shouted. We both turned and watched as something on the stage exploded with a burst of light and a deafening boom, setting off multiple screams in the audience. One of the screams might have been from me.

  The members of The Hellions ran off stage as blue flames shot into the air, quickly engulfing everything and spreading unnaturally fast along cords a
nd into the audience somehow. People began to run toward the exit in a panic, while Lucas wrapped an arm across my shoulders and turned us away from the conflagration.

  “Ignore it,” he said, as he signaled to someone on the sidelines to deal with the fire. “It’s all an illusion.”

  “What?” I glanced behind my shoulders as the flames danced across the pool’s water, my head spinning and my heart pounding.

  “An illusion. Imps can create them. Someone is causing a distraction, though I’m not sure why.”

  As he rushed me away from the burning stage, I spotted Zel running forward with Gadreel and some others, presumably to put out the fire…or whatever you did with illusions. Then the panicked crowd swallowed us up and I was bumped into by several people. In the chaos, I was separated from Lucas and surrounded by strangers, while blue flames suddenly sprouted up near us, so close that many people jumped and screamed. I took a few steps back, until I was pressed up against the wall surrounding the edge of the roof, but the flames kept coming while people around me tried to escape.

  Then something hard and fast plowed into me with such force it sent me flying.

  No, not flying. Falling.

  The sudden force of the collision knocked all air from my lungs as I somehow went over the wall of the roof and plummeted toward my death. I couldn’t even scream, because I couldn’t suck in any air. Time slowed as I suffocated on my own panic, my limbs flailing, trying to grab onto something, anything, while my body dropped toward The Strip below me.

  Then it hit me—I was going to die.

  My life didn’t pass through my eyes. There were no moments of clarity. Instead, I felt only regret for all the things I hadn’t done and for not finding Brandy, along with an unexpected pang of loss for not getting to finish my seven nights with Lucas.

  There was something else too. A sense of inevitability. As if I’d always known my death was coming swiftly and violently, sooner than later.