Read Online Demon's Fire by Emma Holly - Free Book Online Page B

spied a rarely worn cotton glove lying near a chair and used it gently, softly, to wipe the evidence of his violation from her skin.
    She shivered when he reached her nipple, a little, throaty sound breaking in her throat. He had to fight an urge to suck the tightening protrusion. To his dismay, his groin grew heavier at the thought. His guilt was powerless to stop his blood from surging. In fact, his guilt made it flow harder.
    Unsettled by what this said about his character, he tugged the sheet over her. Evidently, living out the forbidden was even more addictive than fantasies.

FOUR
    Precise as all their kind, despite her quarter-human blood, Buttercup rang Pahndir’s bell at exactly twelve o’clock.
    Pahndir looked up from his desk and swore. He had forgotten he’d invited her, a lapse that was ironic, considering he’d spent months working up the courage to ask her here.
    Fortunately, he was dressed and sitting in his office with the accounts. Unfortunately, he couldn’t count on a servant admitting her. Noon was early enough that most of his employees remained abed. Knowing his heart was thumping far too fast, he did his best to compose his face. Royal Yama weren’t supposed to get nervous.
    You’re calm, he told his reflection in the bull’s-eye mirror hanging in the hall. You’re a gracious host who knows how to keep his feelings to himself.
    That patent falsity inspired a grimace. He was a gracious host who knew the closest thing he might have to a second mate was the very married woman on his threshold.
    He wiped not-quite-dry palms on his yellow-and-sapphire tunic before he let her in. As was proper for Yama who were close in rank, he and Buttercup exchanged bows. To his amusement—and, admittedly, to his pleasure—the formerly humble Buttercup was not too proud to goggle at her surroundings.
    Marrying a prince could only change so much, it seemed.
    “My,” she breathed, craning her neck to admire the dome in his entryway. A painting of Shiva and Parvati bent around its curves, their explicitly entwined limbs lit by a hanging brass lantern. The flame that flickered inside was meant to remind clients of his house’s name. Buttercup closed her mouth and looked back at him. “This place is everything I’ve heard.”
    “Then I hope you’ve heard good things.”
    He touched her arm to guide her down the corridor. She started slightly at the contact, but recovered with one of her gentle smiles. “I admit I’ve been surprised to hear people calling you Mr. Pahndir, considering this is The Prince’s Flame.”
    “The house’s name is a matter of marketing,” he said. “The prince I used to be is dead.”
    They had reached the door to the parlor, where he realized he had nothing in readiness. “Forgive me, I—” He stopped himself mid-sentence. He couldn’t say he had forgotten she was coming. That would have been rude. “Time got away from me. I’ll ring someone to bring us hot water for brewing tea.”
    “Please don’t be concerned,” she said. “The wait will give me an opportunity to look around.”
    Knowing from experience that he’d only grow more awkward in her company if he didn’t keep busy, Pahndir took the tea things from the sleepy servant to prepare the pot himself. He enjoyed coffee when he was alone, considering it one of the humans’ more clever inventions, but for welcoming a guest of his own race into his residence for the first time, coffee simply didn’t show appropriate respect.
    Buttercup strolled the parlor as he measured and brewed, trailing her finger along the edges of his furniture. Most Yama would have forced themselves to stillness, absolute self-control being their ideal, but Pahndir suspected she’d been cultivating human gestures, trying to connect with her heritage. They suited her, though she’d always be more mannered than a full member of that race.
    His heart contracted as he watched her, stirring a wry amusement at his own fondness. It wasn’t