Chapter Five
Ahush fell over the crowd and the lights along the outer rim of the den dimmed until the room fell into hushed darkness.
Glasses clinked as the bartender loaded their trays for the third time that night. “Thanks, Carlos.”
“De nada, mija.”
By memory, she eased around the room toward the center where guests awaited their orders.
Samuel—a muscular man with beautifully dark skin who looked mouth-watering under the moonlight—led Megan, a busty brunette across the room, their naked bodies bathed in nothing but cool silver light.
She’d seen this scene a couple of times, so the third who joined them added an erotic surprise.
All the unwanted desire she suppressed moments ago returned with a vengeance.
She licked her lips, unable to look away.
One of her dream fantasies prowled behind Megan. Ripped muscles marked with vibrant tattoos draped across his chest and poured over the full length of his arms. His long black hair loose hanging below his shoulders
Roman.
Maya had been right about an owner taking the stage. But why?
Rhia mentally combed through the details she had on each of the kings. Roman drew a huge blank with nothing online and no records to speak of.
Unlike Sevastyan, Roman preferred a new woman for every week. Blonde, brunette, busty or petite, Haven’s supposed playboy didn’t pick and choose, it seemed. He loved all women and they loved him right back and willingly gave them their bodies.
Or so the hushed rumors went. All hearsay as far as she could tell. In her time at Haven, she couldn’t prove the hushed whispers were true or not because she’d never witnessed him with anyone.
But all that was about to change, it seemed as he prowled across the stage, his gorgeous, heavy cock bouncing between his legs, thick and ready.
Rhia’s gaze traveled over the crowd to find Sevastyan. Like a gorgeously muscled and formidable wall encompassing Volkov, his other two partners stood off to the side, heads bent talking over something. Matteo, a beast of a man with arms thicker than her thighs, had a mean stare that kept people at bay. In contrast, the man she recognized as Lucian appeared as much a ladies' man as Roman was rumored to be.
Rhia eased to the side and brushed against a stone column as warm lighting enveloped the threesome in the middle of the room. All eyes drank in the erotic scene. Hidden within the shadows, she dared a glance into the darkness beyond the ménage.
As though he sensed her awareness, Sevastyan immediately found her gaze. Moonlight penetrated the vast room enough to highlight the sharp angular jawline and the crisp white of his dress shirt peeking out from beneath a dark jacket.
A cry broke her gaze from his, and she looked on as the woman arched against Roman’s palm as it landed across her bare ass cheek. She heard the broken moan and the soft encouragement from her partners caring for their woman’s pleasure.
She shouldn’t look, but an invisible force drew her gaze away from the withering woman. Yes, as if lured, Rhia’s gaze drew back to Sevastyan’s and she felt the seconds tick by, unable to look away from the amber depths of his gaze. Half a room separated them, yet the pull felt as though she stood within inches of his touch.
A premonition of danger clung to her like a thousand silky strands of a venomous spider’s web.
Lethal to her in every way if trapped, yet alluring all at once.
Yet heat permeated her skin. What did that say about her?
She should pull back to the shadows where she would be safe and unseen. But an invisible thread of need, desire, lust… she didn’t know what had her taking a step in his direction as if she could actually want the enemy. Since walking through their doors she’d craved to feel the heat of his fingers on her body, the soft touch of his lips against her skin as his partners licked and tasted her body.
She wanted men she couldn’t have, yet still, she dreamed. Night and day, she fucking dreamed.
Before dumping her off on her father’s doorstep, her mother had warned the twelve-year-old version of herself about men like Volkov. Like them all. Men who appeared perfect on the outside in every way, but ultimately broken on the inside—damaged beyond repair.
Her gaze traveled. If there was one thing Rhia knew about the man that had robbed her of every sense she possessed, it was that Volkov hid soul-bruising secrets. It surrounded him like a black aura, and from her experience, bled over to anyone who got close enough.
Growing up, her brothers called her ability to sense these things about others a gift. Sister Helen of St. Margaret’s Academy had called it her burden and punishment for being born outside of wedlock.
She considered it part of her like someone’s aptitude for multiple languages. Only hers was a silent language.