Page 47 of Paramour of Sin

And the faintest hint of minty sulfur.

My heart skipped a beat, and I tried to leap out of the bed to kneel for Lord Zebulon, but Zane’s arm tightened around me, holding me in place.

I couldn’t see our Demonic Lord, but I felt him moving through the room like a force of nature. The rustle of his clothes, that decadent scent, the prickle of his power on the air.

Zane’s voice cut through the silence and rumbled against my back. “I’m not going to apologize.”

“No, I imagine you’re not.” Lord Zebulon’s smooth, cultured tones filtered through the darkness, coming closer.

He formed from the shadows at the end of the bed, loosening his tie as he sauntered closer to where we lay spooned beneath the covers. “I checked the essence outside. I didn’t recognize it. I asked Tax to track it.”

Zane nodded, and his breath fanned over my neck as he replied, “He’ll figure it out.”

Lord Zebulon slipped his tie from around his neck and dropped it to the bed. I watched it flutter to the blankets, then turned my gaze back to the Demonic Lord, riveted as he shrugged out of his suit jacket. He carried the tailored coat to my closet —mycloset — and carefully draped it over an empty hanger before sliding it between my dresses.

Like he lived here.

Like he owned the place.

Like he… belongs.

I couldn’t breathe.

Lord Zebulon returned to the side of the bed, his long, elegant fingers undoing the top button of his Oxford shirt. The white material hugged his muscles and contrasted beautifully with his brown skin, looking much more erotic than a dress shirt should.

Zane nuzzled the back of my neck and breathed into my ear, “Relax, sweet girl.”

That was the second time he’d called mesweet girltonight, and it was sending my heart into a chaotic rhythm. And definitely not helping me relax. At all.

Especially not when Lord Zebulon’s deft fingers moved to the next button.

Zane’s palm cupped my hip as he asked, “What happens now?”

“We stay with Guinevere tonight,” Lord Zebulon said, casually nonchalant, as if staying with me was the most normal thing in the world.

Another button released, exposing more of his smooth skin, and my breath hitched in my throat.Oh, demons, yes, please...

“Tomorrow begins the true inquisition,” he continued conversationally. “I’ve compiled a line of candidates to interview in order of power potential. I intend to handle those discussions personally. And you”—he leveled his dark gaze at Zane, and another button flared open—“will remain here with our darling Guinevere. She’s not to be let out of your sight.”

Zane’s hand caressed my hip. “As you wish, my lord.”

Lord Zebulon had reached the bottom of the shirt. The last button came undone, and then he shrugged off the fabric in a smooth, practiced move that radiated pure sensuality. I fisted my fingers in the covers, mesmerized by the sudden reveal of every inch of his torso.

I wanted to ask if I had a say in anything, but I couldn’t.

Hot.

Too hot.

My body went up in flames just from the sight of Lord Zebulon’s skin. There wasn’t a chance in hell that Zane couldn’t feel the heat rolling off me. And he could definitely sense the desire coursing through me. My fingertips itched to touch the plains and valleysof the Demonic Lord’s abdomen. I wanted to trace his muscles with my tongue, feel the smooth satin of him against my mouth, lick every inch of him in worship.

And he’s going to sleep in my bed.

Shit.

I’m going to die.

His hand dropped to his belt.