Brimstone Seduction by Barbara J. Hancock

Author:Barbara J. Hancock
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Harlequin
Published: 2016-10-14T04:00:00+00:00

Chapter 16

He’d spent days avoiding Katherine while still trying to determine if she was drawing closer to his prey. It was a razor’s edge that cut far too sweetly. Too often at the end of a long day or after a particularly brutal workout, he found himself near her. Her affinity for daemons and his Brimstone blood were the perfect excuse, but he’d been alive too long. He knew his motivations better than most mortal men.

Her music called him. Her hungry response to his touch and his kisses tormented him with physical needs he was usually able to deny. His gym was a cold release, a grueling punishment that didn’t erase her taste.

Severne’s tuxedo had been delivered. Sybil was an artist with needle and thread. She’d tailored his clothes as long as he could remember. But this time she’d outdone herself. He’d always insisted on black for the masquerade. He was repelled by the decadent swirl of color that never mirrored his heart on the one night a year when the opera house revealed its true nature to the world.

But this time, when he lifted the soft, clear plastic to glance at the formal suit, his gaze was held by the unexpected blend of shades and fabrics. The tuxedo was all black, no disobedience there; the elaborately stitched midnight brocade of the vest contrasted with the heavy cut of jet wool for the jacket and the obsidian shine of grosgrain cuffs and lapels. But at certain angles, the light brought out an emerald sheen in the brocade.

He lifted the domino mask from its place on the hanger and stared into its empty eyes.

Sybil saw more than she should. She was much older than he was. Wizened by age and circumstance. He would wear the tuxedo and it would be for Katherine, but no one would know. And when the time came, he would still do what needed to be done, the needs buried deep in his dark heart be damned.

* * *

Her cello stood in the corner, near the chair she used when she played it. Tonight it was in its case. She wouldn’t hide behind it. In fact, even her mask was a slight frame of pavé gemstones for her eyes with only the sparkle of diamanté dust to hold its shape.

Her hair and eyes stood out. Chestnut curls and chocolate framed by black lashes showed darkly against the white, ivory and glitter of her costume. Everyone would know her. Which made the bodice of the gown that much more daring. It was a complement to the mask. A delicate network of crystal stones, the perfect, simple accompaniment to the layered opulence of her skirts.

But as the mask only framed her eyes and didn’t hide her face, the bodice only framed her torso, allowing the honeyed expanse of her chest and the swell of her breasts to catch the eye. It was the possibility of catching a certain intense gaze that made her long to go back for her instrument.

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