Into Temptation (A More Than Men Novella) Read Free

side of her neck, caressing the fluttering pulse just beneath her jaw.
    She swallowed. And watched him.
    “Evie is a little girl’s name. You are no little girl.”
    Her lips parted, and air rushed from her lungs. The caress of it nearly sent him to his knees. The crowd pressed them closer together. She didn’t fit in. Her clothes covered more skin, and her makeup had none of the heavy black lines females seemed to favor now. But even the little she did have on was unnecessary. He wanted to tell her she needed no disguise or enhancement to make her beautiful, a line of seduction that would have tripped off his tongue easily before. This time the line was no lie.
    “It’s really Evangeline, but everyone’s always called me Evie.”
    He shook his head. His gaze roamed the length of her body. Small, compact, lithe, she would be a powerhouse of energy in bed. But there was also an air about her, a sensation of light that radiated through her body, rippled across her skin and lit her green eyes with a fire from within.
    While it was child’s play for demons to sense a human’s deepest desires, it was also child’s play for them to recognize the ones with a solid core of strength. The ones not worth the time or effort of temptation.
    He wanted her anyway.
    “There you are.”
    A woman rushed up beside them, grabbed Evie’s arm and twisted her away. Brone wanted to smite her. Had killed for lesser offenses. But he couldn’t.
    “Cara’s in the bathroom puking her guts out. We need to take her home.”
    Her friend — or he assumed she was a friend — hauled her away. Brone followed, stepping through the crowd that still parted for him like the Red Sea.
    Surprise and confusion filled him. Brone waved a hand in front of a woman grinding her ass against a half-drunk man. Nothing. No one else could see him.
    Just her.
    Evie craned her head around her friend’s shoulder, glancing back at him and proving she still could. It hadn’t been a fluke or a ripple in the fabric of existence and time.
    It had been her, the first being in almost a thousand years to hear and see him.
    Lengthening his stride, he reached for her again, his fingers snagging in the tangled mass of hair that swung down her back. Thick and smooth, the strands melted through his fingers like butter. Before he could grab tighter and hold on, she was gone, swallowed by the crowd.
    Certain he was invisible to everyone else, he unfurled his wings. With a gentle flutter, he rose several feet off the ground. Just in time to see her slip out the door, a limp and sickly pale woman between her and her friend.
    The door slammed behind them. He closed his eyes to will himself from this place to outside, but before he could go, another hand wrenched the central spine of his left wing.
    The sharp pleasure of the contact tore through him again, but this time the pleasure didn’t remain. Whoever had him was trying to twist his wing from his body, and it hurt like hell.
    Twice in one night he’d experienced a simple touch. What did it say about him that he responded to the soft caress and torment to the most sensitive part of his body in the same way — craving any sensation again?
    In a blinding motion, he jerked sideways. A loud crack echoed through the club. The wing broke. Agony suffused him. Brone didn’t care; it would heal. Eventually. The hard weight of his fist connecting with the solid jaw of another immortal filled him with a sick sort of satisfaction.
    “Damn you to Hell.” The words roared above the crowd, not that anyone else could hear them. “You’ll pay for that.”
    Brone scoffed. His eyes bright and focused, he waved his fingers at Kearn, asking for more. “I’m already in a place worse than Hell. What else can you do to me?”
    “There’s always more. Much more.” A twisted, beautiful and entirely too smug smirk teased at the corners of his lips. Brone wanted to swipe it away, but Kearn’s words stopped him.
    He’d never worried about what