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He reached for her hood, and she put her hand up, stopping him before he could draw it back.

“Ah, ah, ah. What’s hidden under this cloak is for your king to unveil,” she said in a husky voice that had even Liam’s cock sitting up and taking notice, much to his discomfort. Freaking tight-ass pants. He winced, resisting the urge to adjust himself.

“That so,” the guard quipped, smoke rolling from his nostrils. “Don’t have any weapons under there, do you?”

“Why, yes.” Vivian leaned closer. “Several, in fact. Would you like to pat me down?”

The guard chuckled, drawing back the velvet rope. “Good. Our king is feeling particularly bloodthirsty tonight.”

As Liam made to follow, the demon stepped between them.

Liam growled low, and Vivian spun, placing her hand on the guard’s arm. “This creature is mine. He goes where I go.”

Liam met the guard’s eyes, daring him to object. The demon scowled, then stepped aside. “See to it, you keep him in line.”

“Come, beast,” Vivian snapped, then gave Liam her back, leaving him to follow in her wake.

“Yes, Mistress,” he bit out, following her into the cavernous stone walkway.

All too soon, they emerged on the other side. Vivian stopped abruptly in front of him, and he almost ran her over. He circled an arm around her waist, steadying her on her platform heels. “You okay?” he whispered against her satin-covered head.

French expletives tumbled from her lips, and he made a quick scan of the room.

Holy shitcakes. Gavin wasn’t far off the mark when he said it was Cirque du Soleil, only hotter.

Tribal music pounded his eardrums, the cadence low and sultry. The dance floor was full of writhing bodies, slick with sweat. Dressed in scraps of clothing, they gyrated to the beat. Suspended from the ceiling, scantily clad females in metallic bikinis hung from flaming hoops, spinning and twirling. Dainty horns marked them as fire demoness. Oh yeah, this was Liam’s kind of party.

Against the wall on a massive iron stage, a troop of males dressed in loincloths spun ropes with balls of fire attached at the ends. Glowing orange circles whirled around them. At the edges of the room, females twirled flaming batons while spewing fire at the cave ceiling.

This gathering was nothing like one of Vivian’s stuffy cocktail shindigs. Good chance she was having second thoughts right about now.

Before he could tease her about it, she grasped his forearm, gasping, “Have you ever seen anything so glorious?”

He peered down at her upturned face. The beauty there took his breath away, and for a moment, he forgot the crowd. This was the woman he’d known years ago. The one who stared at him with stars in her eyes. He cupped her cheek. “No, I haven’t.”

She laid her hand on his chest then seemed to come back to herself, drawing her hood lower over her face. “Where is Dante?”

“Thinking he’s the demon with the biggest horns, sitting on a throne no less.” Despite the pageantry on display, the demon king looked bored. Seated on a platform behind the performers, he’d slung his leg over the arm of his iron throne, resting his chin in one hand.

“That’s our oracle?” Vivian snorted. “I thought he’d be more mystical-looking.”

Guy looked like the devil himself. Liam swiped a bead of sweat from his brow. “Swear it’s a freaking sauna in here.” He hiked his thumb at one of the massive pillar-style torches. “Someone needs to turn the heat down.” Next to the pillar, a servant in a skimpy red dress chucked a bundle of leafy twigs into the flaming bowl. The crowd cheered.

“Is that what I think it is?” Vivian asked.

“Dante’s herbs.” With the fragrant smoke saturating the very air they breathed, there would be no way to avoid it. “We better get a move on. I’ll go tell Dante you want to talk to him.”

“Hold on.” She grasped Liam’s wrist. “Look at the guards on his right.”

Four demons with gold-tipped horns stood at the edge of the iron stage. Quivering before them was a much smaller male. He spoke to the guards then glanced at the king, raising his hands in a pleading gesture. When he dared to step closer, the guard grabbed the back of his shirt. With a look of annoyance, Dante flicked his fingers, and the guard hurled the male off the side of the stage. The guy hit the ground—hard. When he rose, blood poured down his anguished face.

“Great. Told you this wouldn’t be easy,” Liam growled, frustration rising with the temperature and his creeping pants. “You got any other brilliant ideas?”

“I don’t know,” Vivian snapped in turn. “Gavin warned us we’d need to get his attention.”

Liam eyed the scantily clad women in the flaming hoops. “Going to be hard to compete with the three-ring freak show.”

“Then what do you suggest we do?” She angled her chin at him.