Page 41 of Princess Fallen

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“Right.Bye.”I end the call, unlock the bathroom door, and walk into the bedroom.“Ready for round two, Rogan?”

But he’s gone.

15

“Christ, Rogan,” I mutter.“You couldn’t wait five minutes?”

So much for that mate bullshit.Clearly he has no problem leaving me.

I wish I could say the same.Though my father’s call was the equivalent of a very cold shower, already I’m heating again.I feel the remnants of Victor in my suite—I inhale his scent, hear his thumping heart.It all surges straight between my legs.

How am I supposed to find the evidence my father wants if I’m constantly horny and on edge?

I draw in a deep breath and trail my fingers over my hard nipples.

I shudder.Not a good idea, touching myself.“Stop it,” I say aloud.

First things first.I’ve already come into contact with a demon, according to my father.It’s not Blaze, so by elimination, it has to be one of the other two thugs or someone else I’ve come in contact with.

There are only three, since I checked in online and went straight to my suite when I arrived.The bartender who served me a glass of Syrah, the young woman at the concierge’s desk, and the woman manning the entrance to the high stakes area.

I quickly rule her out, as she responded to my mind control.

Except…

What if she was onlypretendingto succumb?What if she let me into the area for her own reasons?My father warned that demons are masters of illusion.Sure, she seemed to be under my influence, but she may have been faking the whole thing.

Okay.No oneis ruled out.

Five suspects, then—the two thugs, the bartender, the concierge, and the woman working the high stakes area.

One—maybe more?—is a demon.I’m not sure the two thugs are even in the running, because I don’t know for sure that they’re on Rogan’s payroll.

I’m pretty sure they’re demons, though.I sensed absolutely no fear from either of them, not even when Rogan had one pinned against the wall.Plus, my mind control didn’t work on him, and I got no scent from him.

Thug number one—a demon.But is he on Rogan’s payroll?

And another question—why was Blaze involved in my attack?Rogan said he didn’t pay his employees to beat on women.

“Fuck,” I say aloud through gritted teeth.I pick up my clothes and quickly dress.Skinny jeans, a black tank, and leather boots.I slide my phone into my back pocket along with some cash and a credit card.No purse.

I’m going demon hunting.

MY FIRST STOPis the high stakes area.Good.The pretty woman is still on duty.I smile.

“I love your hair,” I say.

She blushes.“Thank you.”

“I always wanted blond hair,” I lie.“My sister has it.She always got so much more attention that I did.From men, I mean.”

She gazes at me, seeming to assess me.“I can’t believe that.You’re gorgeous.”

“Thank you”—I eye her name tag—“Heidi.And thank you for letting me into the area earlier.”

She widens her eyes.“Did I?”

“You don’t remember?”


Tags: Helen Hardt Paranormal