Masters of Seduction Volume 2: Books 5-8: Paranormal Romance Box Set

by Lara Adrian et el

  Her feet halted as she turned to face him. “You killed the Sovereign’s man. He’s not just going to let that go.”

  “Then he shouldn’t have sent his man here.”

  “Don’t make light of the situation,” she admonished. “I’m worried.”

  Javan walked ahead of her to the door on the right and entered the library. He returned to the room because he wanted to remind her how great they had been together.

  As he expected, she followed him. “Did you hear me?”

  “I’m not making light of anything. I know what my actions mean for myself and my family.” Javan motioned for her to sit, which she promptly ignored. “I appreciate your worry.”

  Naomi’s blue eyes were fastened on him. Her head tilted slightly to the side. “I don’t want to worry about you. I’ll leave here and never see you again. I’ll never know if you’re all right or not.”

  Javan briefly looked at the floor. Her words hurt him far more than he wanted her to know. “I can have Elijah visit.”

  For long moments they simply looked at each other. Then Naomi crossed her arms over her chest. Her chin lifted stubbornly, and some of the light went out of her eyes. “I can’t ever repay you for the justice you brought for Becky and all those other women killed.”

  “Your thanks is enough.” That wasn’t true. An eternity in his arms was what he wanted to demand as payment. Javan paused. Her words had said one thing while her voice, laced with a hint of anger, said quite another. “We’ve been honest with each other since yesterday in my office. Let’s continue that way.”

  “Sounds like a plan,” she stated. “You start.”

  Javan hadn’t expected that. Instead of Naomi getting whatever it was off her chest, she had quite succinctly turned it on him. He opened his mouth, but nothing came out.

  He wasn’t sure how to tell her anything. Javan had spent his life around women—human and Nephilim alike—doing his damnedest to keep their greedy paws off him.

  But the tables had been turned. Now he wanted Naomi more than anything else, and he had no idea how to tell her.

  She raised a brow in question, waiting for him to talk.

  Javan cleared his throat and ran a hand through his hair. “I’ve never been in this place before.”

  “Elijah told me you’ve never brought a woman back to your house.” Her arms dropped and her shoulders sagged. “You don’t have to worry, Javan. I’ll not be returning here. I know we only had the one night.”

  Her words were just penetrating the fog in his brain when she turned around. “Wait,” he called.

  “I’m not angry. I wanted you to know that I’m not like some Nephilim,” she said, continuing toward the door.

  Javan rushed to her, grabbing her arm and turning her to face him. “I never said you were.”

  “You don’t have to. I heard Frank today, and I know what I read in that book yesterday. The Nephilim have that reputation because of the actions of a few. That’s not me.”

  “I know.”

  Her lips lifted in a small smile. “I...um...I should probably remind you that we didn’t use any sort of protection.”

  The idea of her belly swelling with his child made the room spin. Javan wanted it so badly he could taste it. Never before had he cared about having a child of his own. But that was before Naomi entered his life.

  “It was just one night,” she said with a forced laugh. “I’m sure it’ll all be fine. The odds of me getting pregnant after one night are slim.”

  Javan’s hand on her arm tightened as he pulled her even closer. “I was scheduled to go to the Harem soon.”

  “Oh.” Her gaze darted away.

  “I didn’t tell you that to hurt you, Naomi. I tell you so you’ll understand that when I say you came as a surprise to me that I truly mean it.” He smiled when her blue eyes returned to his face. “Last night was heaven. I would like to say that I was strong enough to stop touching you, but the truth is I can’t get enough of you. Even now, it’s all I can do not to tear those clothes off you and carry you to my bed.”

  Her confused and wary look let him know he was going about this badly.

  Javan grasped both of her arms in his hands and drew in a steadying breath. “I don’t know how and I don’t know why, but I can’t keep my hands off you. Even as I made love to you for the ninth and tenth and eleventh times, I couldn’t stop.”

  Naomi’s mouth parted in surprise.

  “I can see from your expression that you know exactly what that means.” Javan forced himself to drop his arms to his sides. “There is something between us. I know you feel it. No one can make love as we did and not feel something strong and deep.”

  She brought her hand to her forehead and closed her eyes.

  Javan hurried to finish speaking. “I ask nothing of you except to allow me to win your heart. You’re good for me, Naomi, and I’d like to think I’m good for you. We could have something special.”

  “Incubi don’t take a Nephilim as theirs.”

  “It’s done. Not often, but it’s done. I want you as my mate, my wife. I want us to bring children into this world together. I want to share everything with you.”

  Naomi was shaking. Javan’s words echoed through her head. Was it all real? Did she want him so badly that she was creating all of this in her mind?

  “I love you.”

  Her head lifted, her eyes swinging to him. “You...can’t.”

  “I can.” He smiled, his lips curving upward. “I’ve loved you from the moment Elijah showed me your portfolio. Give me a chance, Naomi. Please. I need you.”

  “I have to know. Is it because I might be carrying your child?”

  “It has nothing to do with that and everything to do with you. Can’t you see I’m crazy about you?” he implored.

  Naomi had been too afraid to hope. But how would she ever know what could be if she didn’t take a chance?

  “There is something between us,” she admitted. “Something strong and steady. Ever since I woke up this morning I’ve dreaded the time I was going to have to walk out of here and leave you behind.”

  “What are you saying?”

  She laughed and put her hand on his chest. “I’m saying that I want to stay. That I want to be yours.”

  “You understand that you’re immortal now, right?”

  Naomi waved away his words. “It’s nice because I’ll get to be with you, but it’s nothing I knew could be mine before yesterday.”

  “You do realize that you hold my life in your hands? If you don’t allow me in your bed, I die.”

  She smiled and reached down to cup his cock that quickly grew hard in her hand. “Then I suppose you better take me to bed.”

  Naomi let out a shriek of laughter as he lifted her in his arms and carried her out of the library. They passed Elijah in the hall, grinning at them.

  She gave Elijah a thumbs up as she realized she had somehow found happiness from looking into her sister’s murder. Fate worked in mysterious ways.

  *

  DAUNTLESS: HOUSE OF TREVANION ~ by Laura Wright

  Masters of Seduction (Book 7)

  Incubus Casworon Trevanion likes his nights long and his bed full. But as his House's new Master, Cas's love of demon debauchery is over. Like every royal male before him, Cas's mate has been chosen and will be presented to him at the annual Seafarer's Ball. But when Cas sets his eyes on lovely stranger, Lia, all bets are off. He is meant to possess her. But will he discard his legacy when he realizes the female he desires is none other than the scarred servant who scrubs his floors?

  CHAPTER ONE

  Casworon Trevanion would’ve preferred to remain in Hong Kong for the meeting with Jian, Devil and the other Masters, discussing the pendant Sorin had recently discovered and its possible significance to their cause. But instead he was aboard his private jet, returning home to Cornwall. Tonight the fate of Akana would give way to the fate of Casworon himself. It was the Trevanions’ annual Seafarers Ball, and a
s newly ‘crowned’ Master of Trevanion it was Casworon’s duty to not only attend and preside over what he deemed was an outdated celebration, but to accept the mate chosen by his mother.

  An ocean of black water beneath him, Cas leaned back in his leather club chair and flipped through the newspapers one of his staff had placed on the granite table before him. True, there had been a few Masters taking mates as of late, but for an Incubus it was a rather unusual pursuit. An Incubus who didn’t carry the name Trevanion, that is.

  “Shall we start the celebration now, my lord?”

  Cas glanced up. The short, stout Watchman with dark eyes stood before him with two frosty mugs, full near to the lip with dark, amber liquid. “I believe it is a last meal before execution, Pennice,” he replied dryly.

  A grin curved the man’s lips. “Come on, then,” he chided, dropping into the cream leather chair opposite and setting the mugs down on the table between them. “A good pint or two will smooth the way.”

  “The way to what?” Cas returned bitterly. “Misery? Shackles? Being forever coupled to a Nephilim of my family’s choosing? To bed her, whatever she may look like, and to rely on her and her alone for my sustenance?” A flash of fury rippled through him and he squashed the Times in his fist.

  After a healthy swallow of beer, the Watchman shrugged. “It is your House’s legacy, my lord.”

  Cas despised that answer. “We live in the twenty-first century, Pennice.” He sniffed and turned to stare out the window. The night was exceptionally black. “And I am a Master. I should make the choice about who I mate, who I feed from—who I fuck!”

  Several of the flight crew turned his way, but he paid them no attention. Each one had seen him bare-assed and rutting on this very plane more times than he could count.

  “Yes,” Pennice agreed. “You should have that choice. But it is not the tradition—”

  Cas cut him off with a sneer. “Of the grand Trevanions.”

  “Have you spoken to your mother, your family?” the Watchman asked, taking another swallow of ale. “Perhaps you could persuade—”

  Cas’s dark laughter echoed through the cabin. “Does one attempt to persuade a feral cat not to consume its prey?”

  The man’s brows lifted. “Yes, I see what you mean. Lady Kayna is both determined and ruthless.”

  “Even more so now that my father has ascended to the afterlife. She is finally in charge. After all those years of sacrifice, mating a male she didn’t know or love, a male who was forced on her for the sake of tradition. She wants her position to mean more than it ever has. She wants our family’s connection to the monarchy to grow and flourish.”

  That last bit interested Pennice very much. He sat forward. “Will the royals be at your mating, my lord?”

  “That is what I hear,” Cas said dryly.

  “They haven’t been to a ball in many years.”

  “My imprisonment is guaranteed entertainment.” Cas reached for his ale.

  “Dare I say,” Pennice began over a rumble of turbulence, “that as with the males who came before you, there is no requirement to lie with only your mate? She will have to feed you, true. But your pleasure can be found elsewhere…in many beds…” The man grinned over his own near-empty glass. “Against many walls.”

  Cas rolled his eyes. “I think you get far too much enjoyment from watching me, Pennice.”

  The man didn’t deny it. Instead he drained the cup. “You do what I cannot. Make another near implode with desire.”

  “I have told you, there is no issue with you finding a male of your own.”

  “Yes,” Pennice agreed. “You have told me. But others…” He sighed. “I would be harassed.”

  “If you are, my friend, I shall be notified. Swift action will be taken.” A growl exited his lips. “Once again, this is the twenty-first century. Though some things must remain the same, others can and will be changed.”

  His dark eyes shadowed somewhat, Pennice granted him a half smile. “I appreciate that, my lord. More than you know. But in the meantime, how can I help you?”

  “I will be mated. There is no help for that.” He drained his ale and set it down on the granite with a bit too much force. “But as you said, I can continue to play. Tonight, after I receive my new mate and she returns home to plan our ceremony, ready the cottage.”

  The man nodded. “How many females do you require?”

  It wasn’t unusual for Cas to entertain up to three or four females when he was home. However, tonight he wished for something outrageous. He needed something outrageous. If only to remind him that although duty and tradition compelled him to concede in this one thing, he was still very much an Incubus Master.

  “I require ten females,” Cas commanded, snatching up the remaining newspaper. “Have them waiting for me at midnight—bathed, naked, wet and ready.”

  Pennice’s eyes glowed. “As you wish, my lord.”

  ~

  The household’s palpable excitement flickered through Lia as she rested on her knees and scrubbed the beautiful, dusty ballroom floor. She’d come to work at Trevanion Castle only five months ago, so tonight’s grand Cornish party was to be her first.

  To witness, of course. Not to attend.

  She glanced up, took in the three other maids who were dotted about the room, one washing the floor like her, the two others polishing fixtures. They would be watching as well. Staff did not co-mingle with the family, or their guests. The Trevanions had blood ties to the royals, for goodness sake, and did things differently than most Incubi households. Formality was key. And anonymity. The latter being why Lia had applied for the position in the first place.

  Just as Lia was wringing out her rag, a sudden burst of energy and sound erupted outside the ballroom doors, in the gardens. In seconds, Ms. Gilly, the housekeeper, rushed in.

  “Stand up, you silly girls,” she called, clapping her hands three times as she scurried over to the doors. “It’s Master Trevanion. He’s home.”

  A thrill went through Lia as she pushed to her feet. Smoothing down her pale green work dress, she watched as a party entered the ballroom. It was a group of six or seven, and they were moving fast. Master Trevanion was among them. Surrounded by them. But she couldn’t yet catch a good look at him.

  Ms. Gilly dropped into a curtsy and said grandly, “My lord.” As did the other maids.

  But Lia remained standing. As a Temple Blade she would have never genuflected to anyone—including Masters or royalty—unless under threat of death. And even then, she was not so sure. But that wasn’t the reason for her blatant insolence. She’d finally caught a true glimpse of the Master—her Master—as he moved, deep in conversation with his Watchman, and her body wasn’t listening to her mind. It was an unfortunate pattern with her. Lack of mind/body connection when it came to this man. And staring. That, she did far too often as well. Granted, she’d seen plenty of Masters in her time, and with every one her body reacted as any Nephilim’s would: with hunger, heat, need. But her reaction to Casworon Trevanion was something altogether different. Otherworldly. Fearsome. Problematic. When he was around, the air seemed to bloom with scent, the light seemed to dim proactively, the energy thrummed with life.

  And her muscles and bone and skin no longer felt imprisoned by scars and ugliness and pain.

  As those around her remained in a respectful curtsy, Lia dragged her teeth across her upper lip, fighting to keep her ragged breathing under control. Her eyes clung to him. Watching, admiring, coveting. Intimidatingly tall, his heavy muscles straining beneath the crisp gray suit and black tie he wore, he was truly a formidable sight to behold. And as he walked—no…that was too gentle a word for what he did. Stalked was far better. He moved with intention and an air of animal rage.

  For a moment, he turned and glanced about the room. Lia’s breath caught in her throat at the full view of his face. His thick ebony hair was cut shorter than usual, and his light caramel skin gleamed like the sex demon he was. But it was those sha
rp, overtly sexual violet eyes that made her insides turn to liquid fire, made her tremble with fear and longing and something she’d tried so desperately to tamp down.

  Hope.

  When she had been a Blade, high-ranking and respected, she might’ve offered herself to him. Her strength and ferocity would’ve matched well with his sensual power and hunger. He would’ve noticed her. He would’ve wanted her, craved her. But now…she was a small, inconsequential bug. Squashable only because she was in the way, not because she posed a threat.

  The moment of curious perusal passed and the party of seven continued on, filtering out of the ballroom. And as the doors closed decidedly behind them, the atmosphere of excitement, of anticipation for the night ahead, dimmed.

  Tonight, she would watch from the balcony with the other maids. Watch as Master and Lord, Casworon Trevanion was presented with his mate. The one who would sleep in his bed, feed him—the one who would bear his young.

  “You three,” the housekeeper called, yanking Lia out of her thoughts. “Back to work. We have but ten hours until the ball. There is no time to dawdle.”

  Slowly lowering herself to the ground, Lia grabbed her rag from the bucket of cold water and started washing a fresh circle of floor. No doubt the highly sought-after Nephilim would be beautiful and graceful, ready to please, and thrilled beyond words to claim such a male. And Lia would go back to her room, to her work—to a life of being unnoticed. Never noticed. Not that she truly wished to be. Not anymore. Besides her limp, she had a scar that ran from her lip to her temple. Both courtesy of the rogue Blade who had murdered all four of her sisters—all highly decorated Blades, and all that remained of her family.

  Her lips curved into a rare smile. As it always did when she thought of that Blade. Lia had made sure the female never took another breath. But, in turn, the Blade had made sure Lia would live out the rest of her days in weakness and obscurity, an object of pity.