In which Adanessa Vidrid is introduced to Duke Vanthampur.
“This is not why I thought you wanted me to come here,” Adanessa gasped.
“Why else would I entice you to Vanthampur Villa?”
Amrik continued the trail of his mouth along the inside of Adanessa’s scaled thigh. He’d grown used to that unique feature now, the delicate pale-green snakeskin that wrapped her legs, her hips, her sex.
“To irritate your mother.”
“You want to talk about my mother right now?”
In response, she grabbed his hair and pushed his head deeper into the junction of her thighs. He laughed, and slid his tongue through her wetness. She let out an encouraging moan, arching her hips up to meet him, and for all she was stone and strange magic, here she was as much a woman as any. Amrik loved the taste of her, made sweeter by the sheer strength in the thighs that wrapped about his shoulders.
There was just something about a woman who could kill him that set his pulse racing.
“Gods,” Adanessa hissed. Her snakes, free of their cloaking hood and veil, chorused their agreement. Amrik grinned; he knew he was performing well when the serpents joined in. He circled his tongue and Adanessa’s grip on his hair tightened. “If you don’t get something inside me in the next five seconds, I’ll—”
Amrik’s door thudded open.
“Amrik, do you have the papers on—good gods, boy, your door has a lock for a reason!” said Thalamra Vanthampur.
Amrik froze. Adanessa grabbed for her veil. Thalamra sighed.
“I’ve told you before not to bring your floozies to the house,” she said.
Amrik ground his teeth. Sculpt her, Adanessa, I won’t lose sleep over it. He turned, making certain to angle his body to keep Adanessa concealed as she tugged her hood into place, snakes tangling in their rush to conceal their presence. By some twist of fortune’s favour, he was still half-dressed—he’d been too preoccupied getting Adanessa out of her clothes to bother with his own.
“I’m entitled to have guests,” he said. “And you might knock.”
“Watch your tone, boy.” Thalamra’s eyes flicked behind him as a set of cool arms draped about his shoulders.
“How lovely to finally meet you, Duke Vanthampur,” Adanessa purred. The gilt edges of her veil brushed Amrik’s cheek. Out of the corner of his eye, he could just make out the amused golden curve of her lips. “I’ve heard so very much about you.”
“And what are you supposed to be?”
“I’m an artist.”
Amrik was close enough that he heard the faint, amused hiss of Adanessa’s snakes. Thalamra scoffed.
“An artist,” she repeated flatly. Her hard gaze shifted back to Amrik. “We have work to do. Meet me in the parlour.”
She slammed the door so hard on the way out that it shook the frame. Amrik blew out a breath. Adanessa drew off her veil once more and sprawled put across the bed.
“So that’s the indomitable Duke Vanthampur.”
Amrik arched an eyebrow at her. “An artist?”
“I am a sculptor.” Amusement flickered at the corners of her mouth. “Lock the door—you have unfinished business to conclude before you attend the Duke.”
He did as he was bid, and by the time he returned to her, he had finally shed the last of his clothes. She spread her legs at the touch of his hand, slid her fingers back into his hair—he grinned as she pushed him down.
“Now then, my dear,” he said, looking up at her from between her thighs. He ran his tongue over his lip. “Where were we?”