Touch of the Angel (Demons of Infernum, #3) Read Online Free PDF Page B

While he’d appointed several of the other succubi to a small group of men he appeared to be especially interested in, he’d had her scouting out gifted emissaries from the Otherworlds. Tonight’s job had been one of those, and her defeat would enrage him beyond belief, especially if the other succubi had once again failed to lure in any of the men they’d been ordered to capture.
    Though he referred to himself as her boss, Asmodeus wasn’t truly her employer. No, the gold band clamped around her wrist pointed to a far more sinister arrangement.
    He owned her.
    And when she didn’t obey his commands, whether willingly or not, there was always a price to pay.
    You chose this path , she reminded herself. Yes, she’d had a choice; she could have declined to bind herself to the sadistic demon. But the consequences of her refusal would have been far too dire.
    “Here you are.” The sleepy cabdriver drove up to the address she’d given him.
    Steeling herself, Amara pulled a wad of hundreds out of the front of her slinky black minidress. She tossed one of the bills to the driver and climbed out of the backseat. The elegant Queen Anne townhome loomed above her, sinister in its appearance even though the terra-cotta finish lent an air of lightness to the midnight sky. Maybe it only appeared so frightening because of what waited for her inside.
    She barely noted the squeal of tires as the taxi sped away. If she could have, she would have run away, too. But she didn’t have that option. No, for better or worse—and it was always worse—this was her home.
    He would already know she was here. Somehow. No use delaying the inevitable. Taking a deep breath, she started forward. She stifled a curse when her knees threatened to buckle. Need consumed her, making her weak and shaky. She wouldn’t be able to hold out too much longer. It had taken all she had to keep from feeding on the clueless cabdriver. Nearly three days had passed since she had last fed. One more week without sustenance and she’d be dead.
    Amara stiffened her spine and walked up the stone steps to the ornate, wrought-iron front door. As expected, she didn’t even reach the top of the stairs before it swung open.
    Gofrey, Asmodeus’s second-in-command and all-around lackey, stood on the other side, grinning at her like the sick loon he was. Gofrey was only a few years older than her—and certainly attractive—with dark, silky hair and smoldering brown eyes. But his beauty was only skin-deep. The man was a monster.
    Even though Gofrey was nowhere near as frightening as his master, he was still dangerous enough to raise her hackles every time she saw him. Especially since he’d decided he wanted her. So far the only thing that had saved her from his amorous pursuit was Asmodeus.
    But then, the master was probably a million times worse than his goon.
    “He’s waiting for you in his chamber,” Gofrey said.
    Big surprise. She bit back the sarcastic comment that longed to escape, walking past him and heading toward the curved staircase. The heat of his eyes was on her back the entire way up. If only she could stop on the second floor and escape to the room Asmodeus had forced to her to take in this townhouse when he’d first bound her to him. Fleeing was pointless, however. Asmodeus would only follow, and he wouldn’t be happy.
    After pausing only the slightest fraction of a second on the second-floor landing, she continued up to the third floor. The entire level served as Asmodeus’s quarters. It was massive, since he’d purchased all three of the units comprising the building and knocked the walls down to make one supersized residence. The second floor housed his servants, goons, bodyguards, and, of course, his succubi.
    Dread coated her throat as she headed toward the double doors leading into Asmodeus’s meeting chamber. Her footsteps barely sounded on the thick padding of the handwoven Persian carpet, but to her they were loud as drums, echoing the