Into Temptation (A More Than Men Novella) by Kira Sinclair Page B

and harder way to a human’s soul. They instilled a mindless need for the next fix, but there was so much propaganda now about the dangers and effects that for every five people eventually hooked enough to sell their soul, there were twenty that slipped away. Drugs were a numbers game Brone had never had the patience for. Besides, it wasn’t nearly as enjoyable or self-satisfying as sex.
    His attention turned to the third, a demon he recognized from Lucifer’s ranking circle. As with any court, there were certain demons the Dark Lord favored. Once upon a time Brone had been one of them. So had Kearn.
    Never what you would call friends, they were more like wary acquaintances. Hell didn’t exactly breed trust. Peppered with powerful beings who’d been kicked out of Heaven in an attempt to overthrow God, they all thirsted for power. And would betray anyone to get more.
    While the other, lesser demons concentrated on the numbers games, Kearn focused his energy on two specific men. Dark and dangerous on their own, Brone recognized the hard edge to their eyes. Kearn was close to collecting. Whatever these men wanted, they were willing to pay any price.
    Their gestures were sharp, pointed and agitated. Revenge? Probably. Greed or power were also possibilities, but anger always had a more hardening effect on the human body than the other desires. Revenge seekers were simple collections. He’d have expected Kearn to gather more intricate and difficult souls. Maybe he had additional humans on the line aside from the two here tonight. That could explain it.
    The three were good. He’d been better.
    He watched them work anyway. Analyzing their moves, targets and techniques kept his own skills strong. He didn’t know why that was important since he’d likely only get to use them again when Hell froze over, but he did it anyway.
    He couldn’t pinpoint the moment when things changed. Suddenly he was worthy of notice to the three demons.
    Oh, they’d known he was there. They’d simply ignored him. He wouldn’t have been able to talk to them, touch or respond even if they’d wanted to communicate. He was used to being ignored.
    Which was why when the redhead’s gaze met and held his, he nearly spoke. Catching himself in time, he clamped his jaw tight against the urge. He wouldn’t give them the satisfaction. They simply wanted to report back that they’d twisted the knife a little harder on his torment. Shown him what he wanted more than anything — interaction — and then cruelly denied him.
    Turning smoothly away so he’d be the one to break the contact, Brone began gliding through the crowd to the exit. His bubble moved with him until a woman lurched into it, nudging his back.
    He froze. The sensation of her body against his, that brief moment of contact, was like a white-hot poker of pleasure shoved beneath his fingernails. Unbelievable pain covered with a protective barrier of bliss.
    A rush of heat swept through his body, and for the first time in centuries he realized just how cold he’d become. Like the pins and needles of awakening extremities, that heat hurt.
    But still he craved more.
    Snapping around, Brone reached for her, desperate for any part of her — hand, hair, face, hips — he could feel against his skin again. But before he could grasp anything, she moved away.
    Empty air oozed through his clenched fingers. His body heaved against the building pressure of need, like a human hyperventilating for breath. He tried again, but she was jostled away.
    Her small, heart-shaped face stared up at him as she shouted through the blast of noise, “Sorry.”
    She could see him. Touch him. She’d spoken. To him.
    Desperation leaked through his body, a spreading poison that would surely kill him. Not reaching for her was the hardest thing Brone had ever done. Every instinct screamed that he should snatch her up and never let her go. Instead he forced himself to fold his arms across his chest and tuck his hands