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

  Table of Contents

  MASTERS OF SEDUCTION

  PRICELESS: HOUSE OF EBARRON ~ by Lara Adrian

  BOUNDLESS: HOUSE OF DROHAS ~ by Donna Grant

  DAUNTLESS: HOUSE OF TREVANION ~ by Laura Wright

  RECKLESS: HOUSE OF FURIA ~ by Alexandra Ivy

  Look for MASTERS OF SEDUCTION (Volume 1)

  About the Authors

  Other Books by Lara Adrian

  Other Books by Donna Grant

  Other Books by Laura Wright

  Other Books by Alexandra Ivy

  COPYRIGHT

  MASTERS OF SEDUCTION

  (Volume 2)

  eBook Box Set

  In the realm of the Incubi Masters, pleasure is to die for and love is the deadliest game of all . . .

  PRICELESS: House of Ebarron by Lara Adrian

  BOUNDLESS: House of Drohas by Donna Grant

  DAUNTLESS: House of Trevanion by Laura Wright

  RECKLESS: House of Furia by Alexandra Ivy

  © 2015 Obsidian House Books, LLC

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. (v1)

  ~

  Don’t miss the first four enthralling stories in Masters of Seduction Volume 1

  Four-book box set is available now in ebook, trade paperback and audiobook.

  Each novella is also sold separately as an ebook single.

  ~

  PRICELESS: HOUSE OF EBARRON ~ by Lara Adrian

  Masters of Seduction (Book 5)

  Incubus Master Sorin Ebarron has an insatiable taste for fine things. So when a tantalizing platinum-haired Nephilim walks into his elite casino on the arm of a rival male, Sorin is determined to have the beauty at any cost. But Ashayla is waging her own high-stakes gamble, willing to risk breath and body to win the prize she seeks. Caught in a game of deception and desire, Sorin and Ashayla will discover a secret that may hold the power to shake the gates of both Heaven and Hell...

  ~

  CHAPTER ONE

  Sorin, Master of the Incubus House of Ebarron, leaned back on the velvet divan in his private office as warm, eager hands worked his silk tie loose, then began to unfasten the buttons of his crisp white shirt.

  Another pair of hands slid over his thighs and groin, zeroing in with fevered enthusiasm on the erection that strained against the fabric of his expensive black suit. Behind him stood a third female, whose fingers played in his wavy golden hair as she leaned over him, her naked breasts bobbing above his upturned face like fruit, ripe for the plucking.

  He let out a deep sigh, settling into the effortless pleasure that the captain of Ebarron’s Watchmen had procured for him for the evening. Sorin had to admit, Milo had fine taste in women.

  The trio of human females his personal bodyguard had sent up to the penthouse from Ebarron’s elite casino downstairs were beautiful, seductive, and clearly intent on fulfilling Sorin’s every wicked desire.

  His body responded instantly as they began to undress him. Already his cock was rock hard, rampant behind his zipper. Lust swamped his acute demon senses, from both his own carnal need and that of the three lovely women vying for his favor.

  Sex was a powerful drug for any red-blooded male, but especially for one born of the Incubi race. They lived for sex—would die without it, in fact.

  Sorin and every Incubus demon like him fed on the energy of their partner’s sexual release for sustenance. For life itself. But they fucked for the pure, debauched pleasure of it.

  Yet the Master of Ebarron could not have been more bored.

  As enticing and arousing as his companions were, they were just three more nameless faces in a sea of women eager to land in the billionaire casino owner’s bed. Like the rest of the mortal world, the females had no idea Sorin’s wealth was the least remarkable thing about him.

  As for his interest in them, Sorin would forget these three the moment they finished with him and left the room. Hell, they were all but forgotten by him now, even with their hands and mouths doing their best to please him.

  A hundred distractions tugged at his attention. Matters concerning the family business and his role as the head of venerable Ebarron House. A role that had also come with an unending awareness of his responsibility for the family’s treasury, an obscene fortune in artifacts, arcana, and priceless trinkets, which had been wagered and won, bought or collected by the males of his line over thousands of years.

  Like the griffin that was the Ebarron sigil, Sorin’s family was fiercely proud of their hoard—and famously protective of it as well.

  Sorin’s thoughts snagged on other issues that weighed on him now too, not the least of which being the persistent unrest and rumors pertaining to the highest seat of power in all of the Incubi realm. The Obsidian Throne was the only thing standing between the gates of Heaven and Hell. The truce struck between the Incubi and the angels, overseen by a council of Nephilim priestesses known as the Three, had forever been a fragile thing.

  Whispers of ineffectiveness concerning the current Sovereign on the Throne were hardly new, but reports coming out of the Incubi Houses of Gravori, Romerac, Vipera and Xanthe in recent weeks indicated corruption and collusion of the worst kind.

  Bloody damned hell. If boredom with his lovely but forgettable companions wasn’t enough to kill his urge to fuck and feed before he’d even gotten started, visions of war between the Incubi and the angels certainly was.

  He couldn’t have been more relieved when a knock sounded on the office door. “Enter,” he commanded to his Watchman posted on the other side.

  Milo opened the heavy panel, the dark-haired Incubus’s expression sober. “Pardon the interruption, sir. We, ah…we have a situation in the casino.”

  It was all the reason Sorin needed to extract himself from the three women draped over him. Immodest as any demon, he stood up, began tucking himself back in, zipping and buttoning his disheveled clothing.

  “What kind of situation?” Sorin crossed the room to meet his captain at the door. Christ, could the seasoned Watchman’s face look any more uncomfortable? “What the fuck is going on down there?”

  Milo cleared his throat, kept his voice low enough for Sorin’s ears only. “Korda Marakel just walked into the casino.”

  Sorin’s answering curse was dark and vivid. The male was from another Incubus House, and not a Master like Sorin, but one of several lower-ranking cousins of Marakel’s Master, the very Incubus who now sat on the Obsidian Throne.

  Sorin had once considered Korda Marakel a friend, but now his hackles rose at the mere mention of his name. “Where is the son of a bitch?”

  “The roulette room, sir.”

  “Alone?”

  The Watchman shook his head. “No, he’s with a female companion. A Nephilim.”

  Sorin’s anger flared, spiking toward outrage. “You don’t mean he’s come back here with—”

  “No. Not her.” Milo’s quick reply spared Sorin from uttering the faithless bitch’s name.

  Although it had been five years, the betrayal by his former friend, with the woman Sorin might have taken as his mate one day, still sat on his tongue like acid.

  Not that he’d ever take Greta back. After learning she’d allowed Korda to seduce her, Sorin had raged more at his own stupidity for letting the Nephilim into his life, than he had out of any kind of emotional pain that she was gone. She’d made a fool of him, squandered his trust.

  And he gave no one the chance to do it twice.

  As for Korda Marakel, friendship across House lines was a sometimes tenuous thing in the Incubi realm, but especially when one of those H
ouses was that of the current Sovereign. Not to say there weren’t a few honorable males among the Marakels, but treachery seemed to run deep in that bunch of demons.

  The same could be said of their arrogance.

  If Korda thought he could walk back onto Sorin’s turf with impunity, he could think again. “Who’s the female with him?”

  “Never seen her before, sir.”

  “You’re certain?”

  “Positive.” A smirk tugged at the corners of Milo’s mouth. “She’s not the kind of woman a man is likely to forget.”

  “Show me.” Irritated now, and not a little curious, Sorin gestured to the sulking playthings left behind in his office. “Have one of your men escort the ladies out after they’ve dressed and collected their things.”

  Milo gave him a nod. “Consider it done.”

  The captain of the Watchmen made the call while Sorin and he strode the length of the lavish corridor toward the penthouse elevator. They stepped into the glass lift and descended through the heart of the elegant Ebarron building, toward the casino twelve floors down at ground level.

  Built into the side of a mountain nestled deep in the Carpathians of Romania, Ebarron’s casino and family fortress was exclusive in the extreme.

  Incubus magic protected the place better than any amount of security, rendering it impossible to find on any map or GPS coordinates. Even if outsiders did learn the precise location of the stronghold, unless they could teleport, the terrain itself would keep them away.

  As such, the casino catered mostly to Incubi and other, lesser-ranking demonkind, and it was rare that patrons arrived—or stayed—without the Master of Ebarron’s knowledge and approval.

  Milo stopped the elevator on the broad, balconied second floor, whose galleries overlooked the grand playing halls and gaming salons below. Sorin didn’t wait for his Watchman to show him to the balcony poised over the roulette room. He prowled there in irritation, across the hand-loomed Persian rugs and sleek, veined-marble floors, to the edge of the balcony.

  Down below, standing among a small, glittering crowd gathered around the green table of the high-stakes wheel, was Korda Marakel.

  The tuxedoed, dark-haired Incubus had just lost a bet on the wheel and was scowling as a pile of his chips were swept away by the croupier. By rough estimation, Marakel had just surrendered more than ten thousand euros to Ebarron’s bank.

  Sorin could hardly contain his smile. He didn’t need the money, but the satisfaction of taking something from his old rival was its own reward.

  He stared as Korda snapped impatient fingers at one of the cocktail servers carrying a tray of filled champagne flutes. The demon grabbed one in each hand, and when he turned to offer one to the woman beside him, Sorin’s gaze followed too.

  Damn. Milo was right when he said the Nephilim was something to see.

  Tall, long-limbed, with ample curves in all the right places, the platinum blond stood beside Korda Marakel in form-hugging black pants and a matching long-sleeved top sliced far between her breasts in a generous vee. Stiletto-heeled black leather boots rode up her calves and just over her knees. Her long, pale white hair was gathered off her face in a sleek ponytail that gleamed like gossamer silk under the casino’s soft lights.

  Milo strode up to the balustrade next to Sorin and slanted him a knowing grin. “I don’t suppose you’ve ever seen this Nephilim before either?”

  “No,” Sorin replied. And what a damned shame that was.

  Even from the floor above, he could see that she was beautiful—arrestingly so. Creamy skin, full pink lips, and a dark-lashed gaze that moved over her surroundings with an unmistakable confidence and intellect.

  Where the other Nephilim and human females in the casino wore bright colors, sparkling gowns, and expensive jewels just screaming for notice, this woman in body-skimming black needed no embellishments to draw the eye of every man in the place.

  Sorin found himself studying her. Fixating on her with an interest he could hardly deny.

  Desire flickered through his veins as he watched her bring the slender glass to her mouth. Lush lips parted over perfect white teeth as she took a brief drink. Watching her pretty mouth and throat work suddenly made everything male in Sorin—everything dangerously, carnally Incubus—crackle with rapt, unswerving attention.

  Korda Marakel seemed equally entranced with his companion. Leering openly, he leaned in close and whispered something against her ear. She smiled, but the curve of those mesmerizing lips seemed too tight to be genuinely amused.

  Marakel didn’t seem to notice. Or maybe he didn’t care. Crowding her body even more where they stood at the roulette table, he petted her silky platinum hair with a lover’s caress. His fingers slid around to her cheek, and the grin he gave her was profane, purely sexual.

  Before Sorin could bite it back, a low, disapproving growl rumbled over his tongue.

  Marakel must have shocked the poor thing with whatever he suggested next because she recoiled from him, teetering unsteadily on those sky-high heels. With her sudden, awkward wobble, the drink in her hand slipped through her fingers and crashed to the floor.

  Champagne exploded in all directions, splashing her and Marakel both. The Incubus sputtered a string of curses as he tried to brush the spilled alcohol from his tux and white shirt.

  Sorin grinned. “Couldn’t have happened to a better man.”

  Champagne dripping off his chin, Marakel was furious. He bellowed for help from one of the nearby servers while his lovely companion cautiously backed away from the ruckus.

  She didn’t seem clumsy at all as she withdrew from the table. And the look on her pretty face was nothing close to contrition.

  No, the slight tilt of her lips told a different story altogether.

  “Shall I have them both removed from the premises, sir?” Milo asked, chuckling from beside Sorin now.

  “No. That won’t be necessary.” His gaze locked on to the intriguing beauty, he watched as she slipped out of the roulette room to the main parlor of the casino. “I’ll handle this personally.”

  CHAPTER TWO

  Ashayla hurried out of the crowded gaming room, her sleeve and fingers soaked with spilled champagne. She wasn’t embarrassed for what she’d done. She sure as hell wasn’t sorry. Especially considering she’d doused the demon on purpose.

  He had been dropping innuendos and suggestive comments all evening, despite the fact that she wasn’t remotely tempted to take his bait. The lewd remarks and none-too-subtly roaming hands were annoying, but Ashayla deflected the Incubus’s advances without too much concern.

  She was a Nephilim, and she could handle herself well enough. She had no interest in playing games—his own or the ones taking place in the casino. Ashayla was focused on a bigger prize, and she wasn’t going to let her unwanted but necessary “date” faze her.

  That is, until the sex demon suggested he might console himself over his losses at the roulette wheel by making her his Thrall for the night. The thought sent a fresh spike of outrage through her. The bastard was lucky all she’d had in her hand at the time was a glass of champagne.

  The prospect of losing control of her body and mind under the influence an Incubus’s sexual power was no laughing matter. Their kind was dangerously alluring without the benefit of the ability to bend any female’s will to their own. Add in the hypnotic force of the thrall, and there wasn’t a woman alive—full human or half angel like her—who could resist them.

  Even the dark-haired demon who’d brought her to Ebarron’s casino had a certain coarse sensuality that some females might find attractive. Ashayla wasn’t one of them.

  She didn’t know anything about him beyond his first name, Korda. Nor did she need to know anything more. They’d met only last night, after she’d arrived in Bucharest from the States. Ashayla had gone into the city and its after-hours nightclubs with the sole purpose of hiring an Incubus to bring her to the exclusive casino.

  She’d learned the House of Ebarr
on’s family business and residential stronghold was located somewhere in the Carpathian Mountains, but it wasn’t exactly the kind of place you’d find in any tour guide. And to get there, she’d needed to find a demon to teleport her onto Incubus soil along with him.

  Korda had seemed willing enough to take her there. He’d seemed almost too willing, as if the five hundred euros he’d demanded in exchange for the favor—an amount twice as high as she’d budgeted—had been merely an afterthought.

  If she hadn’t worked so hard and saved so long for this trip—this quest, to be more precise—it wouldn’t have stung so much to watch her hired companion throw away her money at the tables along with a huge sum of his own.

  Then again, she didn’t try to fool herself that her purpose for being in Ebarron’s domain wasn’t going to come at a steep price. Nor without a great deal of risk.

  Stealing from an Incubus House, particularly the formidable one she planned to cross tonight, was no easy feat.

  Not that the obstinate, arrogant Master of Ebarron had given her any other choice.

  Ashayla pushed open the gold-trimmed mahogany door of the ladies’ room on a huff of indignation. Ebarron’s enormous wealth was evident on every silk-covered wall and framed original work of art. It shone in every inch of polished, snow-white marble under her booted feet and in every gleaming fob and fixture, right down to the restrooms of their lavish casino.

  The fortune the House had amassed over the centuries was obscene, so what would it hurt them to part with one insignificant item in their treasury?

  “Greedy bastard,” Ashayla muttered as she entered the restroom.

  Several elegantly dressed women stood at the mirrors primping, while others chatted quietly on tufted velvet chairs and divans in the restroom’s lavish parlor. Most of them were human, with a few Nephilim here and there.

  All heads turned as Ashayla stormed in, reeking of spilled champagne and pulsing with combined disgust for her Incubus companion and the one at the helm of Ebarron House.