Chapter 15

15

“Hello?”

“It’s Thorn. What do you prefer in evening wear?”

I laughed, “What do you mean? And why do I need evening wear? As you can see, I have premonition powers.”

“That would be something. It’s the worst talent, though. Drives people mad.”

“Oh.” I sat on the bed with little Dago’s drawings spread at my feet, and all levity evaporated as I stared at images of ill-formed monsters.

“I’ve never bought evening wear, though. It never came up in pack life.”

“Any preference on designers?”

I shrugged. I have no clue about designer names. Then I realized Thorn couldn’t see my shoulder gesture.

Did I want to reveal that I was culturally illiterate?

“No,” I said simply.

“Okay, I’ll have someone drive by to pick you up to drive you to the warehouse to get ready.”

“Why don’t I get ready here?”

You might not have noticed, but the water isn’t on. Casey is working on it. I assumed you’d want to take a shower.”

I don’t need to sniff under my arms to know I needed one.

“You’re right.”

“I’ll have Casey order a few dresses, and you can pick one of the litter. You’re my plus one at a charity gala at the Watermark.”

I raised my eyebrows.

“The Watermark Hotel? So, a high-end guest list, huh?”

“Right. Part of the gala displays native artifacts and art local to the area. You’ll use your unerring ability to figure out which artifact is the one we’re looking for next, and we get it and leave.”

“Got it, Boss.”

“It will be a black dress, though, tonight. You need to not stand out.”

“Sounds good. See you soon.”

I gaze longingly at the bed, lusting for a nap and knowing I won’t get one.

The driver picked me up, and twenty minutes later, I strolled into the warehouse’s atrium. Casey barely glanced up to greet me, and the day doorman winked at me on my way past.

Sure enough, five black cocktail and evening gowns hang in the walk-in closet in the bedroom Thorn assigned me. I discarded the plunging neckline Bodycon, which won’t leave me room for tools under it, and the ultra-mini, even though it’s so cute I want to take it home with me.

I settled for a strappy A-line that fell a couple of inches above the knee and a pair of black pumps. I twisted my hair back to make the blonde stand out more than the pink and kept my makeup simple—mascara, raspberry gloss, and a hint of raspberry blush.

Nothing would stand out or make people watch me too hard. However, I did appreciate the black silk stockings with tiny rhinestones that made my legs sparkle. If they last the night, those are going home with me.

A knock sounded at the door as I tucked the last flyaway away from my face.

“Ms. Barlow, your car is here,” one of the guys called.

I looked myself over one last time in the mirror and decided I was good to go. Heading down the stairs, the door guy gave me a long wolf whistle.

“You clean up good, Bloodhound.”

“Bloodhound, that’s a new one. I think I like it.”

“Got me whistling for you, that’s for sure.”

I’m blushing as he opens the door for me. “You can whistle, but I can’t promise that I’ll come.”

He leaned in like he did the other day and whispered, “I’ve had no complaints from the ladies before.”

Waves of lust rolled off him, and if they weren’t so overwhelming, I would be flattered. Chastity’s warning that the Hand of Belial amplified lust rang in my head once more, and I decided it wasn’t as much fun to have men drool over me, knowing the object in my chest compelled men to act like this.

I nearly stumbled, stepping down the first step out the door, and I cleared my throat to cover for the near-gasp I made. “Have a good night.”

Before me, a stretch limo waited. The driver opened the back door and winked at me as I entered. Thorn waved me in and handed me a flute of champagne from a bottle that came from a silver bucket of ice at his side.

I took the glass and sipped the wine as the driver shut the door after one long look at my legs.

“There’s something in the air tonight. Every man I’ve encountered acts like it’s a full moon.” I said.

Thorn swept me with a long, cool gaze, but he kept his composure, unlike the other men I encountered tonight. His eyes sparkled, though, and his cologne’s scent intensified, which happens when a man’s body temperature rises when the thought of sex crosses his mind.

I swallowed hard.

“You look lovely,” he said. “I like your hair.”

I sipped more champagne, too aware of his nearness but also needing a distraction from the sexy roll of Thorn’s voice and his scent’s aphrodisiac effect.

“Thank you. I did what you suggested and kept the pink ends under wraps.”

“It’s a good look for you. I never understood why women dye their hair in unnatural shades.”

Was the Hand compelling me? I licked my lips hungrily as I gazed at Thorn. He wore a sophisticated silk tux that probably cost more than I pulled in a year’s work. A curl of Thorn’s dark hair hung on his forehead, begging my hand to brush it back, and my breath caught in my throat. That old black magic began to well between my legs as I contemplated unbuckling his belt and pulling down those expensive slacks to see if he went commando or wore silk underwear. Either would blow my mind. Then I’d ride him like the stallion he was. With that thought, I found it difficult to breathe.

I fanned my face as I scented my arousal and blushed. But, thankfully, Thorn didn’t seem to notice. He pulled out his phone and stared at it.

“I hope your friend is comfortable in the house,” he said. Thorn spoke as casually as he inquired about the weather the next day.

I watched in fascination as he sipped his drink and his Adam’s apple bobbed. I wasn’t one to worship a man’s Adam’s apple, but I couldn’t bring myself to tear my eyes off Thorn’s.

“She couldn’t stay. I’m sorry to have inconvenienced your driver.”

He waved his hand dismissively while still staring at his phone. Then he looked ahead and stuck the phone into his inner jacket pocket. “They need to earn their paychecks.”

Then he turned his gaze to me, and his eyes widened.

“Damn,” he said almost under his breath.

I tossed back the champagne, then reached to place the glass inside the bucket by Thorn’s side. I had to lean over him to reach it, which I didn’t mind in the least.

“What do you think you’re doing, Miss Barlow?” he said.

My head was nearly in his lap, giving me a wild variety of sensual thoughts. I think about putting my hand on his crotch and feeling the hardness I’m sure would greet me, of yanking his slacks down his legs to find his cock springing to the ready, and raking my tongue along his dick long and slow to see him shudder. My breathing became shallow, my head was spinning, and if he didn’t kiss me right now, my heart might shudder to a stop.

“I’d prefer not to think now if you don’t mind.”

A low growl emanated from his throat, and in the low-level light of the limo, his eyes swirled faster and turned red.

“There is something you should know,” he said in a husky voice. Thorn stared at me intently with those eyes that should scare the shit out of me, but they didn’t. My entire body thrummed to a primitive beat, and the place between my legs quickened to a fire I could not deny.

“That the Hand of Belial sparks the lust of the men near me? Yeah, I know.”

He chuckled.

“Aren’t you full of surprises, Miss Barlow,” he said.

“I think we can dispense with the ‘miss’ right now,” I said.

“That might be best.”

He pulled me up to sit on his lap, and boy, oh, boy, the promise there was the biggest I’d ever encountered. Thorn stared at me, drawing me deeper into those eyes, and brought his hand to my breast and pinched the nipple hard. Stabs of pleasure and pain flew through my body, and I threw my head back. Thorn caught my head in the crook of his arm and lowered his hand to the spot between my legs while staring deep into my eyes. He slipped his hand under the glittery stockings and fingered my tender flesh.

I gasped, and he swirled his index finger at my entrance, so wet that every touch was pure bliss. Expertly, he slid a finger inside and clamped his thumb on my clit. My heart pounded as Thorn stroked me, staring into my eyes with whirling demonic orbs. I couldn’t breathe, and my heart revved to the redline. Overwhelmed with sensation, I leaned into the crook of his arm and closed my eyes.

“I like that you didn’t wear panties,” he said in a near growl.

I couldn’t speak and just nodded my head.

He now thrust two slick fingers inside me, and I cried out in sheer joy. Slowly he fucked me with those fingers, whispering in my ear in a language I didn’t understand, but my body seemed to. Maybe he’s uttering a spell, calling forth the energy that threatens to explode from my body. Or perhaps he’s commanding my body to burn in this hell of unrelenting pleasure. All I know is that the thrills that jolt me seem to last forever, yet I haven’t reached my crescendo. I want to get there, and I buck my hips on his hand, demanding more, as shivers rack my body. I’m burning hot and cold simultaneously, and it’s delicious torture.

“Thorn,” I gasped, not caring that I was begging. “More.”

“Oh, yes, there is so much more,” he said. “Night upon night of pleasure. Needs you didn’t know you had uncovered. Pain and pleasure jumbled to ecstasy.”

“Thorn!” I pleaded.

He sighed. “Whatever you want.”

His fingers picked up the pace, and I’m lost in sensations so intense, I don’t know my name. My chest ached from breathing so hard, and fire engulfed me, so I was burning and breaking apart like fireworks. I exploded, and my vision filled with a thousand stars.

“Thorn!” I cried out one last time.