Total pages in book: 114
Estimated words: 109033 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 545(@200wpm)___ 436(@250wpm)___ 363(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 109033 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 545(@200wpm)___ 436(@250wpm)___ 363(@300wpm)
“No rush,” said Naomi. “As I said, they’re all dead. There’s no further harm they can do at this point.” Unless there were in fact more of them. Fingers crossed that wasn’t the case.
CHAPTER THREE
Standing in his front doorway the following afternoon, Luka watched one of his sentinels pull up in the courtyard. Beyond it were acres of manicured land, tall trees, and high brick walls.
His estate was expansive, just like the long, stately three-floored home in which he’d lived for many years. Beside it was an annex that housed his bodyguards. The demons who permanently guarded his home lived on the grounds in what was originally a guesthouse.
As the head of his syndicate, he naturally had many enemies. Luka had been born into this life. He knew nothing else. He’d been groomed from an early age to step in as Prime when the time came. He had held the position for years now, which he hadn’t done by taking chances. So though it was rare for people to give him issues, let alone attempt to trespass on his personal territory, he ensured it was heavily guarded.
His sentinel, Raiden—who’d been sent to collect Iain—exited the car and then pulled open the rear door. Out slid a slender dark-blond male, his compact shoulders stiff, his scarred brow creased.
“He’s looking worried,” commented Mikhail. He and his brother—both of whom Luka had relayed the Naomi/Iain situation to—had planted themselves either side of the front door.
“So he should. I generally don’t have people brought to my home unless they’ve displeased me,” Luka pointed out. It wasn’t as if he and Iain were friends. Having a virtual—and yes, mostly criminal—empire to run, Luka worked a lot and didn’t make much time to socialize.
He waited until both demons had climbed the steps before he said, “Prompt as ever, Raiden. It doesn’t go unappreciated.” Luka was a busy man on a tight schedule. “Iain, we’ll talk inside.”
As they entered the house, Mikhail walked in front of Luka while Nikandr covered his back. They strode along the marble flooring of the circular foyer and then further into the building, passing many doors.
As well as basic rooms such as the den and the kitchen, there was everything from a well-equipped gym to an indoor atrium that featured a large fish tank built into a wall.
It would quickly become clear to any who entered his home that Luka liked the finer things. Everything was top-notch and stylish. Every surface shone or glimmered.
But yes, there was an austere feel to the place. He could admit that he’d forsaken comfort for opulence. Ella had been right in saying that it looked like a showroom, not a home. There were no personal touches anywhere that would indicate who lived here—not even a single picture or portrait.
Finally, they reached the living room, which Luka only used to receive guests. “Drink?” he offered Iain, waving him toward the sofa.
“I won’t say no,” the psi-demon replied, a nervous tremor to his voice, as he sat.
Luka’s guards and sentinel took up positions around the room while he poured both himself and Iain a whiskey.
Taking a tumbler from him, Iain nodded his thanks.
“You don’t look too good,” observed Luka, sinking into the sofa across from him. It was no exaggeration—the demon appeared feverish, just as Luka would expect from someone caught in the spell of a siren song.
Iain’s lips twitched. “Such flattery.”
“What have you been doing with yourself lately?”
“Not much. Just spending time with my newborn nephew; helping my sister with taking care of him.”
“Really? Because that’s not what I heard.” Luka sipped his drink. “In fact, it’s your other sister who’s been helping her. A lot of your time has been spent harassing a siren from Jolene Wallis’s lair,” he stated, disgust bleeding into his voice.
There were plenty of moral lines that Luka would cross—and had done many times—but none involved hurting women or children, either emotionally or physically. Even Belial, who enjoyed inflicting pain, would never cross that line.
Iain went rigid, color rising in his cheeks. “I wouldn’t call it harassment,” he said stiffly, managing to sound both offended and sheepish.
Annoyance creeping over his skin, Luka slowly lifted a brow. “Naomi Chamberlain asked that you cease contacting her, yes?”
The psi-demon pressed his lips tight together. “Yes.” A reluctant whisper.
“Repeatedly?”
“Yes.” Again, it was a mere murmur.
“But you’ve ignored her wishes and continued to reach out to her in numerous ways?”
Iain ground his teeth. “Yes,” he quietly bit off.
“Even though you know she wants you to leave her alone, you keep contacting her, sending her gifts, and showing up at her home uninvited. Tell me how that doesn’t constitute harassment.”
Iain looked down at his glass and then took a gulp of whiskey.
“You’re under the thrall of her song, so I can—”
“No.” Iain’s head snapped up. “That’s not the case at all. I’ve told Naomi that.”