As her fingers curled around the vial, the massive double doors opened across the room and Sorin strode inside.
“I apologize for leaving you here by yourself for so long. Family matters required my attention.” He said it as if she was a guest invited for tea and he the polite host.
Ashayla casually brought her hands into her lap and shrugged. “I hope you didn’t rush back on my account. You could’ve stayed away all night as far as I’m concerned.”
He grunted, the corner of his mouth quirking. As he approached the table and took the seat at the head of it to her right, several Incubi servants in formal attire followed from outside the room.
The men wheeled in two large dining carts draped in white linen and loaded with dome-covered dinner plates and fine china table service for two. On another cart came a chilling bottle of champagne and sparkling crystal glasses. The servants began efficiently arranging the silver and glassware on the table in front of Ashayla and him. They placed one covered plate in front of her, another in front of Sorin.
It was lovely, all of it. And oh…it smelled delicious, even from under the polished silver lids.
She swiveled a suspicious glance on Sorin. “What’s the meaning of this?”
“Dinner. I thought you’d be hungry.”
Was he kidding? “No.” She shook her head. “You can’t actually expect that I’m going to sit here and eat with you like I’m your guest and this is…what, some twisted kind of date?”
One tawny brow lifted. “Would you prefer we skip the formalities and head right to my bed?” Sorin’s handsome face was placid as he looked at her, but dark power stormed in his penetrating gaze. “Or shall we have the meal cleared away and make use of the table instead?”
Ashayla snapped her mouth closed before she could wade any further into his snare. She sat in mute outrage as the servants hastily finished setting the table.
When they left and closed the doors behind them, she glared at him. “I suppose you enjoy humiliating women in front of your household staff?”
“Not at all,” he said, his tone solemn. “Not ever.”
She scoffed. “I see. Only me, then.”
“Not even you, Asha. I have the utmost respect for any female in my care or safekeeping. As for my staff, this is an Incubi House. Talk of sex and pleasure doesn’t shock them, I assure you. I could’ve spread you beneath me right in front of them and they wouldn’t have batted an eye.”
The image leapt into her mind with instant, vivid clarity and she swallowed. Hard.
“Heathens,” she muttered, even as the thought of being pinned to the table under Sorin’s strong body wreaked havoc on her thoughts and sent arrows of heat streaking through her veins. “If that kind of behavior passes for respect in your world, it’s no wonder so many Nephilim prefer to live among humans instead of being a mate to one of the Incubi. Is that what happened with Greta?”
He drew back at that remark, frowning in question. “You don’t know anything about that.”
“Back in the casino, Korda Marakel made it sound as if she was important to you. Was she?” Asha studied him. “Is she still?”
His sharp, short exhalation was dismissive. Derisive, even. “Greta was a brief, pleasant diversion from my duties, and a family-approved candidate as my mate. At least she was, until she started fucking any Incubus who would have her. Including, finally, my former friend, Korda. I cut them both out of my life five years ago. I haven’t looked back since.”
He chuckled darkly after he said it, those unnerving eyes holding her in an oddly amused stare. Asha stared right back, utterly confused.
Lord help her, but she did not know what to make of this man at all. “You can laugh over losing a lover and a friend? Are you crazy, or just that callous?”
“Neither.” He leaned forward, his elbows braced on the edge of the table. “I find it funny to realize I was more disappointed when your letters and emails stopped coming than I was when Greta moved on with Korda.”
Now it was her turn to laugh. “I don’t believe that for a minute. I’m pretty sure I called you a selfish, pompous jerk in the last message I sent you.”
“Actually, you called me a selfish, pompous jackass. One who, and I quote, obviously doesn’t have an ounce of compassion in his Hell-spawned body.”
Asha bit her lip, recalling that heated final reply with fair accuracy herself. “I don’t hear you denying it.”
He shrugged mildly. “No, you don’t. What about you?”
“What about me?”
“You’re a beautiful woman,” he pointed out. “Headstrong and reckless, obviously. Opinionated and judgmental too—”
“Gee, thanks.”
“—but lovely,” he said. “So why hasn’t another man—another Incubus—convinced you to become his mate? Don’t bother to deny it. I checked into your family background after your first letter arrived.”
“You what?”
He shrugged again, utterly unapologetic. “I was…curious. I am curious, Asha. Do all of the Nephilim women in your line despise my kind?”
“Of course not.”