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  • Tangled Webs(Black Jewels,Book 6)(4) by Anne Bishop
  • “To his benefit, since they don’t deserve to have him.” She put some snap in her voice, hoping for a flash of amusement from him.


    “A Warlord Prince needs a female to fuss over—if not family, then a friend,” she finished quietly.

    “Having his company for the evening is fine, Surreal, but—”

    “He’ll be staying for breakfast.”

    Long pause. “You trust him that much?”

    Now they had gotten to the core of it. Did she trust a man who wasn’t family during the hours when she was asleep and would be the most vulnerable? “Yes, I trust him that much. So go home to your wife, Sadi.”Then I can read this book however I want to.

    Another pause. Then the Warlord Prince of Dhemlan took a deep breath—and Daemon let it out in a sigh as he stood up.

    “All right, then.” Using Craft, he vanished all the papers and called in his black jacket. He slipped on the jacket, then ran his fingers—with their long, perfectly manicured, black-tinted nails—through his hair. Now the hair looked bedroom-disheveled. Now the partially unbuttoned shirt looked like a lure to attract and entice.

    Which was insane, because the only woman who could safely have Daemon Sadi as a lover was Jaenelle Angelline, since she was the only woman hewanted for a lover.

    Don’t just sit here. Get up. Move. You’ve got no fighting room in this position.

    Then a little flash, a blink of light near the floor. Nothing there, but…

    He was still barefoot. There was something too sensual about him still being barefoot when he was wearing that silk shirt, the expensive jacket, and the too-well-tailored trousers that taunted women with a hint of what they couldn’t have.

    She pondered the feet and not the significance of their movement until he was leaning over her, one hand resting on the arm of her chair, the fingertips of the other hand drifting down the page of her book, then over her thumb and wrist.

    She actually felt her heart skip a beat in anticipation of a kiss before it began pounding like a rabbit’s.

    Why was he doing this? What did he want from her? Those golden eyes held hers, demanding her attention. The way his mouth curved in a hint of a smile seemed to promise all kinds of delights. Which was probably the exact look the Terreillean Queens who had used him saw right before he killed them.

    Then his lips brushed her cheek and lingered there as his chained sexual heat washed over her.

    “Enjoy your evening, cousin,” he said.

    He eased back—and glided out of the room.

    Had he used Craft to open and close the door, or had he used the power that lived within him to simply pass through the wood? She didn’t know, didn’t care. She felt a bit breathless—and more than a little scared. When Daemon was the Sadist, he used sex as a terrifying weapon. She felt as if she’d brushed against that side of his temper, but she didn’t know why he’d be angry with her.

    Maybe nothing. Probably hadn’t even been aimed at her. Just feeling pissy about Rainier’s family was all.

    Which reminded her.

    Shaking off the sexual haze—which she wasn’t in any mood for anyway—she glanced at the clock. Rainier was late. Wasn’t that lovely? Now that she knew the book was meant to be silly, she wanted to read a little more. And she wanted to flip through and discover some of the other stupid things this Jarvis Jenkell thought the Blood did.

    She picked up the book and tried to flip through the pages.

    Tried to flip through the pages.

    Tried to flip through the pages.

    “That whoring son of a whoringbitch !”

    As he walked down the town house’s steps, Daemon reached inside his black jacket. Then he stopped, baffled that he’d been reaching for a cigarette case he hadn’t carried in several years.

    He couldn’t remember when he’d stopped smoking the black cigarettes. Sometime during the years when his mind had been shattered and he’d wandered the paths of madness the Blood called the Twisted Kingdom. During the years when he was slowly regaining his sanity and lived in hiding with Surreal and Manny, it hadn’t been prudent to call attention to themselves by adding an expensive item to their supplies when the invalid—and fictitious—owner of the island had never ordered cigarettes before. Now the only way to get the things would be to buy them from a supplier in the Realm of Terreille, and there was nothing he wanted from Terreille. Nothing.

    Which didn’t explain his suddenly slipping into the movements of an old habit.

  • Romance | Fantasy | Vampire