Midnight's Master. Cynthia Eden

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around her and jerking Holly against him. “I told you, the last time you came into my bar…”

      Her eyes widened. “Niol…”

      Oh, yeah, he liked the way she said his name. She breathed it, tasted it.

      His lips lowered toward hers. “If you want to walk in Paradise, baby, then you’re gonna have to play with the devil.”

      “No, I—”

      He kissed her. Hard. Deep. Niol drove his tongue right past those plump lips and took her mouth the way the beast inside him demanded.

      She tasted like wine, and the more he sampled, the more he wanted.

      His hold on her tightened. Her breasts crushed against him, and the tight peaks of her nipples stabbed into his chest.

      His cock twitched, full and heavy with arousal—hell, he’d been hard since the moment Holly strolled into the bar.

      His tongue met hers. Thrust. Took. When she moaned low in her throat, he pulled her closer against him.

      Her mouth widened, letting him inside even more. Ah, yes, that was just what he—

      She wrenched her head away from his. Her breath panted. Her mouth glistened.

      He wanted more. Niol licked his lips, tasted her.

      How long would it take to get her out of the dress? He bet he could take her into his office, have her naked and moaning in less than two minutes.

      “Take your hands off me.” Bright spots of color stained her ivory cheeks. She swallowed. Once, twice. “I’m here to talk to you about Carl and—”

      He dropped his hands. Too many ears and eyes in this place. “If you’re not here to fuck, Holly, then don’t waste my time.”

      Her mouth dropped open. “What?”

      He almost smiled. Almost.

      But he had an image to maintain.

      And, because of the little reporter, an aching hard-on.

      “Humans who come into Paradise know the rules. They either come to play,”—and the blond human in the booth to the left looked like she was having one hell of a time playing with her vampire—“or they come to be prey.” Simple enough.

      Green eyes narrowed. “A man is dead, Niol. I want your help!”

      He raised his hand. Snapped his fingers.

      Her head jerked. “You didn’t just—”

      Thomas, who’d returned from his little errand with the vamp, marched to his side. “Boss?”

      Niol did let his lips curve now. It was just too much fun. Ah, but the reporter’s cheeks were such a lovely red. “Thomas, do me a favor…” A brief pause. He could feel the eyes and ears on him. He glanced toward Holly, allowed himself one last look at that tempting body, then ordered, “Throw her pretty ass out.”

      Chapter 2

      She’d had worse nights. Not many, thankfully, but a few.

      Holly glared at the back of the building, because, of course, she hadn’t been escorted out the front of Paradise Found. No, while the vamp had at least been thrown out the front of the bar, the NBA reject had tossed her out the back door and into the alley with the stench from hell.

      “Get lost, lady,” the bouncer ordered, pointing one thick finger toward the waiting darkness. “You won’t be warned again.” His face—scary, downright ugly—tightened.

      Oh, right, because being thrown out like garbage was some kind of warning. “Tell Niol this isn’t over!” She shouted, even as the jerk began to swing the door closed. “I’m not going to disappear! I’m not—”

      The door slammed shut.

      “Talking to anyone,” she finished, then snarled in disgust.

      Dammit. Why couldn’t Niol cut her some slack? The black-eyed bastard owed her. Hadn’t she kept her mouth shut about what she’d seen him do?

      She spun around, and her gaze jerked helplessly down the alley.

      Right there. She’d been standing right there and she’d seen Niol literally fry a man. The flames had been so hot. The breath of the fire had scorched her skin.

      The bastard who’d died had been a murderer. A sick, twisted psycho who had planned to kill her. She hadn’t shed any tears over his death.

      But she’d had more than a few nightmares.

      And now she was back here. Back at what could have been the scene of her murder.

      She took a few slow steps forward. In the dim light, she could just barely make out the scorch marks at the end of the alley.

      No, she hadn’t shed any tears for the dead man.

      But she also hadn’t taken her story live, either. She hadn’t blasted the truth about the killer—the fact that he was a demon, a powerful supernatural—into the homes of thousands of people.

      Because after what she’d seen that terrible night, Holly knew that the world wasn’t ready for the truth yet.

      Monsters are real.

      Oh, yeah, they were real. Strong. Dangerous. Evil.

      And scary as all hell.

      She stopped at the edge of the black markings. The markings that were all that remained of a demon’s life.

      So many monsters…Her hands clenched.

      Some of them, like Carl, weren’t bad. Some were almost…normal. Just trying to get by in the big, too-cold world.

      Living, as best they could, until the darkness struck them down.

      Holly bent, the cold air of the night brushing against her. It was late spring, should have been warmer, but a cold blast was hitting the city.

      Her fingers touched the rough pavement, and her nails scraped over the black lines.

      He’d been in my head. He took my control away. Made me into a puppet. Even though she’d tried so hard to fight. At night, she could still feel the whispers of her fear.

      She’d been so afraid. So sure that she was staring at death.

      Was that how Carl had felt? Before he’d been gutted by—

      A rustle of sound reached her ears. Soft. Like clothes, fabric brushing against the hard stone walls that all but surrounded her.

      In an instant, Holly was on her feet, heart racing so hard the thudding filled her ears. She whirled around, searching the alley with narrowed eyes as she squinted to see in the darkness. “Who’s there?” Chill bumps were on her arms, but

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