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“I will,” he assured her.

“And you’re certain you want a front-row seat to this?” She twisted her wrist, and the whip uncoiled at her side.

“Do your worst, Mistress Vivian,” the fire demon commanded, a husky timbre filling his voice.

With that, she stalked forward, movements deliberate and predatory.

Liam folded his arms and glared at her. His vision went fuzzy, and for a second, there were two of her.Fucking Dante. He grabbed his head and rocked back on his heels.

Vivian used his moment of distraction to her advantage. She flicked her arm.Crack!His chest burned, and he glanced down. Through a silver haze, he caught the trickle of blood on his pectoral.

She’d struck him? “What the hell, Viv? Have you lost your mind?”

It had to be Dante’s weed that was affecting her this way, him as well, because that evil gleam in her eyeswas notmaking him hard. Little did she know he was no stranger to a good lashing. Only not the fun kind.

He sensed the crowd shifting their way, eager for the show.

“I told you to sit down,” she snapped.

There was that voice again. The one that had every rational thought in his skull angling south.

With a great flourish, Vivian swirled her cape behind her shoulders and cocked a hip. Both Liam and all those turning heads on the dance floor took in her outfit.

Liam had owned bandanas bigger than the skimpy black dress she wore. Inches of slinky fabric hugged her curves, the hem so short the tops of her fishnet stockings and garters peeked out the bottom. No wonder she’d covered herself with that cape. One look at her in this getup, and they’d have spent the evening with her bent over his desk.

His mouth went dry. For a moment, he forgot Dante was getting an eyeful of everything he saw as well. Then he came to his senses and squeezed his eyes closed. “Screw this.” Watching one of Vivian’s performances from the audience was one thing. Taking part in one was a whole different story. If Vivian wanted to shake her ass for a bunch of strangers, that was on her. He turned, headed for the edge of the stage.

Vivian’s voice rang out, the sharp bite of her fury slicing through the tribal beat. “Don’t walk away from me, Liam. Not again.”

Crack!

Fire exploded in his right butt cheek. He saw red and turned, baring fangs. “Tell me you did not just pop me in the ass with that thing.” He reached around, finding a tear in his pants, then lowered his head, leveling her with a glare. If anyone but her had dared…

“Sit down, beast.” She reinforced the command with anothercrackof that infernal whip. This time it lit a path of fire across his hip.

“Dammit, woman,” he yelped, cupping both hands over his straining manhood. “Careful with that thing.”

Unapologetic, she stalked a circle around him, forcing him back with another ear-splitting crack. This one whizzed past his cheek, just shy of making contact.

“Viv, swear to the gods when this is over—” To his surprise, the back of his legs bumped the chair. She’d maneuvered him right where she wanted him.

“Sit. Down.” She planted her hand on his chest and pushed. His ass hit the chair. By some miracle, the thing didn’t splinter beneath his bulk.

“Good boy,” she purred, running the handle of the whip beneath his chin.

“I’ll show you, good boy.” He reached for her and got a faceful of satin for his effort. His vision blurred, and he registered Dante’s laughter from over his shoulder.

Asshole.

Now that she had him where she wanted him, Vivian tossed the whip offstage to Dante’s guard. She started in with that cape of hers, showing off bits of her slinky outfit, then swishing that red satin. She worked it like she used to work her feather fans. He’d seen matadors with half her skill.

The crowd ate it up.

Hell, he ate it up.

Dante—the prick—ate it up.

At last, she unlatched the clasp at her neck and flung the cape into the eager crowd. Then she prowled closer, placed her hands on both of Liam’s knees, and gave him a look that sucked the oxygen from his lungs.