“Your boredom is showing, my son,” she said in a strained, singsong voice.
“Good.”
“It will not do to have your mate see you this way.” She leaned in, close to his ear. “Don’t push me, Casworon. You know better than to push me.”
He turned to look at her. She was still a very beautiful female: dark hair like his own, green cat’s eyes. But the soul is seen on the skin whether it wants to be or not. In an expression. A gesture. And Lady Kayna’s soul was an ugly, tortured one.
“Don’t worry, Mother,” he said evenly. “You will have your alliance. I only ask that this charade be done swiftly. I have plans for the rest of the evening.”
She sneered at him. “Retiring to your cottage?”
“I am.”
Her lip curled. “Like father, like son.”
Cas hadn’t taken much time to understand his parents’ relationship over the years. Like most children, he was consumed with himself. But clearly, the union had not only been an arranged one, but a contemptuous one. It was curious then, he mused, turning back to face the ballroom and his guests, that Lady Kayna would want the same misery for her son.
The orchestra conductor caught his eye then and raised a brow. With his father gone, it was Casworon’s duty to open the ball. He was Master. He was Lord. He nodded, then sat back and watched the stream of males and females move onto the floor. The first dance was a waltz, each couple more or less performing for his pleasure. But Cas’s attention had already been diverted to the small parade of females and their escorts coming toward him. It was time. The shackles already felt too tight. His gaze moved over them. Which one was she? This mate who would no doubt end up hating him, as his mother hated his father.
One was dressed in pink and pale yellow, while another was white like a bride, and yet another in red to tempt his Incubus, no doubt. The first stepped forward, and introductions were made to the lilt of the waltz.
“Master Trevanion,” the page to his left called out. “May I present the Lady Beatrice of London.”
Lady Beatrice was small with fine curves and a wide smile. She dipped low into a curtsey before him, then glanced up through thick lashes. Her eyes were a beautiful dark brown, and deep as he imagined his own to be. He inclined his head, then waited for her to move off and another to take her place.
“My lord, Lady Neda of Wales.”
This was the Nephilim in the red dress. Perfect height, perfect figure, sharp eyes and a sharper smile. She hated him, hated this. He didn’t blame her.
“Master Trevanion,” the page continued. “The sisters, Brachia and Ornathe of Edinburgh.”
Pink Dress and White Dress respectively, both trying to win his attention. But too caught up in their competition, neither managed to truly connect with him at all.
“My lord,” came the page’s call. “The Lady Gemma of Manchester.”
A female stepped forward, and instantly Cas knew this was his mate to be. She was his physical type exactly. What he’d always requested: dark hair to the waist, dark eyes, full mouth, small, high breasts, and an air of reverence. His mother had done her due diligence. He could most certainly fuck the Lady Gemma into oblivion tonight and for many nights to come. His demon was more than game. He looked her over darkly, inspecting her, and she didn’t wilt. Instead, she gave him a hungry, compliant smile. She was ready. She was perfect. She was exactly what her position required her to be.
So why was his cock already bored?
The waltz ended then, and a round of applause sounded.
Get it over with. The sooner you agree, the sooner you can get the bloody hell out of here. Perhaps the Lady Gemma would like to join you. Be your number eleven.
The applause slowly died down, and a hush fell over the crowd. Cas lifted his gaze, passed the lovely yet perhaps too eager Gemma, and surveyed the dance floor. What was happening? Only a few guests were chatting in small groups dotting the perimeter, but everyone else was staring up at the top of the stairs.
“The Lady Gemma would like to dance, Casworon,” his mother was saying at his side.
Cas ignored her. His demon had pulled his attention to the top of the stairs where a tall female with long, blond curls stood. She was alone, yet comfortably, confidently so. She had a small waist and large breasts, and her dress was no doubt as pretty and as enticing as all the other dresses in the room. But Cas hardly noticed what she was wearing. His gaze—and that of his demon—was focused entirely on her face. Her expression, actually. What was it? Raw, almost innocent excitement coupled with the fearlessness of someone who needed nothing from anyone? Who was here for her own enjoyment alone?
And then the scent hit him—her scent—and everything and everyone around him ceased to exist.
Like a predator, a wolf on the moors, a drained Incubus, he jerked to his feet and headed for the stairs. As he went, he heard rumblings behind him.
“Who is that?” his mother asked.
“I don’t know, my lady.”
She clicked her tongue. “Find out.”
“Yes, my lady.”
The female with the face and the scent was descending now. Coming toward him. But why was everyone else staring? Why was everyone else captivated? Did they not know to whom she belonged? He sneered. They were in his castle, after all. Everything that stepped foot inside these walls was his to take, consume, fuck, feed from…
His demon was emerging with each breath he took—each step closer. That scent. Bloody hell. That strange, erotic, addictive scent that belonged under him, inside him, on his tongue.
But what of the agreement? something ancient whispered into his brain.
The Trevanion tradition?
Your mate is waiting, Casworon.
“Fuck them all,” his demon growled as he neared the staircase, neared her.
And then. Green eyes lifted. Locked on him.
Those eyes. They were strong and deep and alive. So alive it made every cell in his body quake with longing. He reached for her— Just in time to watch her being swept away onto the dance floor by one of his cousins.
~
What was that?
God in Heaven, what was that?
Lia forced a smile and tipped her face up to the Incubus male who gently moved and circled and turned her around the dance floor. He was good-looking, thick dark blond hair with eyes the color of the sea at night. And he most certainly carried that Incubus aura of pleasure and desire within his blood.
And yet he did nothing for her.
Her mind, her entire focus, was on the…she couldn’t call him a male or the Master, Lord Trevanion or even an Incubus, because that…thing that had come stalking toward her was not of this world. That thing was a fire-breathing demon with eyes that both warned and promised sex with him would be the best she’d ever had.
Don’t look, Lia.
Just don’t.
If you look, you’ll lose your breath first and then your footing, and once again you’ll be that limping, scarred servant who cleans these floors, not dances on them.
And tonight you will dance.
Tonight you may even answer that demon’s silent call.
The music wrapped around her and she gave in to it, letting her very capable partner lead her around the floor and in and out of the other couples. It was incredible. Thanks to Pennice, she felt no pain, only strength and excitement and wonder. She was here. She was admired. She was that fearsome Temple Blade once again. No…she was better, harder, sexier. And though she didn’t dare look, she knew the eyes of Casworon Trevanion and his demon were on her.
“What is your name?” the male asked, pulling her from her thoughts.
“Lady Elia,” she answered with absolute confidence.
“And where do you come from, Lady Elia?” His eyes moved over her face. “I have never seen you before. And I would have remembered if I had.”
She smiled. “I believe that is what all males say when they are making polite ballroom conversation.”
His b
rows lifted. “You are sharp-tongued.”
“I am.”
His grin widened. “I like it.”
She laughed. But her laughter didn’t rest on the blond male for long. Halfway through the waltz another male cut in, his eyes Incubus-bright and hungry, his hand wrapping her waist possessively. Lia had seen him at the castle before. Some type of business titan who’d once worked with the late Master Trevanion and wanted to court the new one. She wanted to inquire about his work now with Casworon, but before she was able, yet another male broke into their dance and swept her away. It was strange and wonderful and breathless, and she wondered what was coming next. Or who.
She really should’ve known it would be the demon of all demons.
The song ended with a flourish and the crowd parted. Where Lia’s partner had only moments before been confident and domineering, it took only one look from Master Casworon Trevanion and his death stare, to have the male backing off and returning to the crowd.
Lia held her breath as the demon in black tie strode toward her like he owned the room. Which of course, he did.
He looked gorgeous. Tall, muscular and intimidating. His thick black hair a little mussed, his hard jaw shaven smooth. And those eyes, amethyst in color, were locked to hers.
When he reached her he bowed. “My lady.”
She inclined her head. “My lord.”
“It is time,” he said, his tone threaded with lust.
It made her shiver. “For what?”
His eyes flashed fire. “You have had your fill of males on the dance floor.” He reached for her and eased her into his arms. “Now you will only dance with me.”
CHAPTER FOUR
Her scent was his drug.
And he wanted to smoke it all night long.
As the music began again and the couples started to dance around them, Cas stared down into the eyes of the female who captivated him.
“Are we to dance, my lord?” she asked boldly, though Cas saw her pulse beating furiously against the pale skin of her throat.
Would it slow or quicken further if he leaned down and ran his tongue over the soft band of muscle?
“Lady Elia, is it?” he said, tightening his hold on her as he began to move.
She looked both impressed and concerned. “You have discovered my name already. Well done.”
“Unfortunately that is all I have discovered. I want more.”
“Do you?”
His lips curved into a smile. “Yes. I want everything.”
He heard her breath catch and he released her for a moment, twirled her, then scooped her back up again and continued a slow rotation with the other couples on the floor.
She stared up into his eyes. “Perhaps I’m not very keen to give it.”
“Why would that be?” he asked, leading her to the center of the floor. “Do you have something to hide, Elia?”
“Yes I do, my lord,” she answered daringly.
A low growl rumbled in Cas’s throat. “I demand to know what it is.”
Her eyes flashed green fire. “I don’t respond to demands.”
His body hummed with awareness. “Even from an Incubus Master?”
“Even then.”
Heat surged into him, tightened his skin around his muscles—sent blood to his cock. This female had no fear of him, no wish to please him. Only a delight in challenging him. It was a characteristic he had never admired before. Or tolerated, for that matter.
Until this moment.
“What perfume do you wear on your skin?” he demanded.
“Why?” She smiled slowly. “Does it offend you?”
His nostrils flared and he took her into his lungs. “It does not,” he nearly groaned.
What was happening to him? Was this female an apparition? A cruel ruse? Sent by an enemy who wished to drive the new Lord and Master of Trevanion to his knees?
“I wear nothing,” she told him. “What you scent, my lord, is only my bare skin.”
Cas slowed to a side sway and drew her closer. His cock was hard and his mind was nearly taken over by his demon. The demon that wanted nothing more than to— “The song has ended,” she said, her eyes on his.
So it had. But he didn’t care, didn’t let her go. He wondered in that moment if he ever would or could. “Do you wish to dance with another male, Elia?” He knew his tone was excessively harsh. “And I caution you against saying yes.”
“Because you wouldn’t like it.”
“That, and I would have to rip his arms from his body.”
Her lips twitched. Such full, rose-colored, edible lips. “That isn’t very nice, Master Trevanion.”
He sniffed. “I’m. Not. Nice. Elia.”
Guests moved around them almost silently. Or perhaps he had tuned them out in favor of this female’s voice.
“Would you want me to decline another’s request to dance out of fear?” she asked him. “Or because you’re forcing me to comply with your wishes? Is that how you like your females, Master Trevanion? Subservient and timid?”
“Sometimes,” he answered honestly.
Her eyes searched his. “I don’t think you’ll like me that way.”
His cock hardened further and the blood in his veins coursed hot and thick. His demon was an irrational taskmaster inside him. It wanted this female like it had never wanted anything before, and it didn’t care how or where. Skirts up, panties ripped off, and fucked hard right here for all to see.
But though his hands shook with hunger, Casworon still held the reins. He couldn’t allow the creature inside him nor the crowd around him such feral, voyeuristic pleasure.
“May I tell you how I would like you?” he uttered blackly.
Her pupils dilated, her lips parted and the scent of her arousal drifted up into his nostrils. “I’d rather you showed me, my lord.”
A gasp was ripped from Cas’s lungs. Who was this female? What did she have over him? Her scent, her eyes, her bold nature. He had never wanted anything or anyone more than he wanted her. And though he’d never admit to it aloud, he would’ve dropped to his knees, as his enemies might enjoy, and begged for her hand, her touch, her mouth and her climax.
“Come with me, Elia,” he breathed, taking her hand.
“Where?” she asked.
“Does it matter?”
A soft smile on her lips, she shook her head as he led her out of the ballroom. “No.”
~
The royal carriage that had whisked them away to the cottage had a glossy black exterior, steel gray leather seating, and a silent driver who handled the two white horses glistening beneath the moonlight with precision and ease. Lia sat very straight, her gaze traveling between the moors and the male sitting beside her.
Was this truth or dream? She actually wasn’t sure anymore. She had no pain, no scar. She was what she’d been before the attack. Beautiful and strong, a fighter, and a very sexual being who had no compunction in asking for or taking what she desired. And here was what she desired. Right beside her. His hand covering her own in an ongoing display of possession.
As they headed for the cottage.
Her gut twisted just slightly. She was no prude. She knew what was coming and didn’t fear it. Nine other females waiting for them. Nine naked and ready females. For Casworon, a typical Saturday night. But she would be in the middle of it. Sharing him. Perhaps even being instructed by him to touch someone besides himself. It wasn’t what she wanted. And yet, it was all she’d been offered.
“You are quiet, Elia?”
She turned to look at him, and inwardly sighed when she did. He was breathtakingly handsome in the moon’s light. Dark, foreboding, sensual and mythic. “I am only thinking.”
“About what?”
“You,” she said, then smiled when his brow lifted provocatively. “How you left the ball without a word to anyone.”
He looked confused. “I am Master. I don’t need to inform anyone of anything.”
“I know, but…wasn’
t this ball to announce your mating?”
A muscle in his jaw tensed. “It was.”
“I heard no announcement. Saw no mate.”
“That’s because all I wanted you to see was me.”
A frustrating, evasive and deliciously wonderful answer. “But you saw her?” she pushed, unsure why she was pushing. “Were introduced to her?”
“Yes,” he ground out.
“Did you find her beautiful?”
“She was acceptable.” He reached out then and cupped her face. “Stop asking these questions. I don’t like speaking of her to you.”
“Why?” she asked breathlessly. His fingers on her skin…his warm touch…
“She means nothing.”
“How can you say that?” she countered. “She’s going to be your mate. Isn’t that everything?”
“Not to me,” he said flatly, jerking away.
What was she doing? Why was she trying to ruin this? One night, Lia. For heaven’s sake. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t apologize.”
“It’s not any of my business. You owe me no explanation. And yet I…” She trailed off. Just stop talking. Stop right now if you want this night to end well. If you want this night to end with his touch, his kiss, him inside you.
But Casworon Trevanion was trying to read her expression. “What, Elia? What is it?”
She shook her head. She couldn’t tell him that all she wanted was him alone. No other females. Just one night. And then he could and would go back to his full bed.
The carriage came to a slow halt, and Cas announced with husky intensity, “We’re here.”
Lia turned, expecting to see the massive cottage alight with lamp glow and the faces of beautiful, eager females in the windows. But that wasn’t at all what met her gaze. In fact, she wasn’t sure where on the massive estate they were. She hadn’t been paying attention as they drove along.
“This isn’t—” she started, then stopped.
Cas had stepped down from the carriage and was offering her his hand. “Isn’t what?”
“Well…” she stumbled, stepping down. “I…it isn’t what I expected.” Why weren’t they at the cottage? Were the females here instead? Had plans changed?
Masters of Seduction Volume 2: Books 5-8: Paranormal Romance Box Set Page 15