“You’re all set.” His touch fell away.
“Thank you.” I turned to face him, and all other thoughts vanished.
Joriel was dressed in a black suit that fit him so perfectly it had to have been designed with his body in mind. He wasn’t wearing a tie, and the top couple of buttons of his white shirt were undone, offering the tiniest peek at the burn marks over his collarbone. I wasn’t sure why the scars made him so much more attractive, but they did. They gave him an edge of danger, and the imperfection of them proved that he had stories, that he’d lived.
“You look stunning,” Joriel said, his eyes dipping to take me in.
I bit my lip while his eyes moved over me. “So do you,” I said when he focused back on my face.
“Shall we?” He held out a hand to me.
A part of me was afraid of touching him, afraid of what it would do to me, but not taking his hand would be worse. His hand was warm, the scrape of his calluses giving me all kinds of unhelpful ideas.
“I’m sorry,” I blurted out. “Last weekend in the alcove, I—”
“Shh.” Joriel placed a finger over my lips. “I thought we weren’t apologizing anymore for kissing.”
“So we’re just going to pretend it didn’t happen?”
“I never said that. You’re the one who’s been avoiding me. I’m perfectly willing to talk about what happened. I’m just not willing to hear your apologies when you have nothing to apologize for. I was a very willing participant.”
“But you stopped. You left.”
Joriel looked at me, his eyes serious. “If I didn’t leave, I would have done something we both would have regretted. You deserve so much more than a lust-fueled fuck in an alcove without formal commitment and promises.”
“So do you,” I told him.
The expression on his face implied he didn’t believe me. It seemed like no matter what I said to Joriel, he was determined to believe the worst of himself.
* * *
I satat the bar in Abadon’s mansion, surveying the party. And what a party it was. I shouldn’t have been surprised that the Prince of Gluttony knew how to live it up. It was a feast, casino, bar, smoke room, pleasure house, and gaming room all in one. It didn’t matter what tempted you, Abadon had it in abundance.
“You look lost,” the man himself said, dropping into the chair beside me. “You know, it’s practically a crime to sit at a bar without a drink in your hand.”
“You’re welcome to hand me one,” I said without looking his way.
He chuckled. “You know, my parties are supposed to be about having fun.”
“Justyourparties? Your brothers’ parties aren’t?”
“Have you ever been to a party at Soneillon’s place? Dude wouldn’t know fun if it fucked him in the ass.”
I made a face at that particular mental image. “Who says I’m not having fun?” I asked, steering the conversation back from Soneillon.
“You’re sitting by yourself, not doing anything. I can’t believe there’s nothing in my home that interests you at all.”
I glanced at Abadon. He was adorable in a dangerous sort of way. There was a glimmer of amusement that never seemed to dim in his eyes, and he had a relaxed attitude that implied he’d never taken anything seriously in his life. And the suit he was wearing with the shirt partially unbuttoned wasn’t hurting that image at all.
“It really bothers you, doesn’t it?”
“What bothers me?” he asked, wiggling his brows.
“The idea that you can’t provide something addicting to me. Perhaps you’re losing your touch.”
Abadon laid a hand over his heart. “Ouch.”
I rolled my eyes. I was pretty sure he was immune to offense.
