To Summon a Demon (12 page)

Her face was like stone. Sharp caramel eyebrows over a long blade of a nose and a cupid’s bow mouth the angels would have wept for, except for the fact that she was not smiling. Her angelic blond hair tumbled down her back.

But what drew him was her eyes.

Not one single emotion betrayed her. Her gaze was flat, blue, empty. When he probed her mind, he saw...nothing.

How curious. As the Demon of Corruption, his goal in life was to make people do things against their nature. But first he needed to know their nature. Her mind was blank. Too blank.

“You think to bring me a prostitute to pay off your debt?”

By only a flicker of her eyelid did she reveal her distress. Not a prostitute then.

“No, no.” The gambler laughed and a hint of nervousness finally edged into his mind. He pinched the woman, hard, on her arm. “This is my wife. Smile, dear.”

The woman’s x-rated mouth remained still.

“Your wife?” Vetis said flatly. He pressed his mouth into a straight line. It was nearly impossible to corrupt one already so depraved as to offer his wife to a Demon. Now if the gambler had protested, it would have been fun to demand her as payment. But this, this was annoying.

This...insect dared to try to dupe
him
?

“And why did you bring her with you?” Vetis slumped even further in the chair, shifting his weight to put his chin on his fist.
Come, you ass. Show me your true colors so I can decide what
your punishment shall be. And how I can reap the energy from your psyche.

“I would offer her to you.”

“I see.” Vetis blinked slowly. The woman hadn’t made any movement. None. She was

preternaturally still. And her mind continued to stay amazingly blank. He had no idea if the man’s offer repulsed her or aroused her. Absolutely none.

What an interesting turn of events.

“Come closer, sweet.” He crooked a single finger at her, watching her dead eyes. The burning wood crackled, sparks flaring in the still silent cavern of a room as the earthy aroma of peat wafted lazily through the air.

The woman didn’t move.

“Is she drugged?” Vetis asked with pretended idleness. He couldn’t say why the thought enraged him, but Vetis suddenly wished the man would answer yes, just so he could hurt him.

Edward shifted, his body turned toward the fire as if mesmerized. “No, my Lord.” He pushed his bride toward Vetis without so much as a flinch. “Go to him.”

She shuffled toward him in the stilettos, her gait uneven, as if she were unaccustomed to walking in the sharp heels. The sacrificial woman hesitated at the two-tiered dais that held his chair.

“Come, come, up the steps.”

She lifted her gaze to his. Still no emotion. Still no feeling. And apparently she was mute. After another moment of hesitation she placed one foot daintily in front of the other until she stood directly in front of him.

Up close he could see the makeup slathered over her face. Rouge painted her cheeks, deathly pale beneath the false front. Her mouth, the pouty, puffy lips glossed shiny and slick, trembled.

Finally emotion. Energy he could feed off of. Fear? Desire?

Vetis tested the air, sniffing delicately to sense her mood. Besides an overabundance of some blowsy floral perfume, nothing else scented the air.

“Of course, I can’t make a decision until I sample the merchandise.” He rubbed his fingers against his thumb, then wiggled his digits, like a safecracker getting ready to breach a vault.

Vetis slid his palm inside the slinky halter top and brushed a thumb against her nipple.

The woman’s skin was frigid.

As cold as her ice blue eyes.

Even in the heat of his room, she was nearly frozen. She didn’t react. Not one flicker of emotion crossed her face. With the exception of that slight tremble in her lips and the barest flinch of an eyelid earlier, she showed no reaction. She remained perfectly still while he brushed his thumb against the hard point.

He slid his other hand between her knees and with a gentle press, indicated she spread her legs.

The skin of her inner thigh was soft as the down feathers that stuffed the comforter on his bed.

Slowly, he slid his fingers toward her mound.

No underwear blocked his path. Wiry curls protected her feminine slit. He rubbed his fingers over her. Nothing. No juice wet his hand. The little nub of her clitoris was cold and dry against his fingertips.

He couldn’t take his gaze away from hers.

She was like a giant void. He had to wonder, as she stood without protest against his intimate invasion. What would it take to corrupt her?

Tucked into leather breeches, his cock lay flaccid against his stomach. He waited for some sort of response. If nothing else she’d be good for a few blow jobs. He imagined his cock ramming in and out of her mouth, fucking her throat, until he came jetting down into her body.

And still his body remained limp, uninterested.

Gods, this boredom was killing him.

The sensible, the logical move would be to send the woman home and feed off the sick energy pouring from the gambler. But, her absolute lack of emotion was like a siren, tempting him toward an uncertain path and payout. He wanted to corrupt her, wanted to harness her energy.

Prince Gaap would clearly advocate for the former.

But Vetis needed something. Needed a challenge.

The woman stood straight and still while he tested her indifference. With one hand he cupped her breast while he trailed the other back down her thigh.

He probed her mind again. And finally, he saw.