Devil Falls

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Damien rose and paced restlessly. He couldn't believe the audacity of the woman. Most cowered before his temper, yet she held her ground. Two voices rose inside his head, one warm and light and the other sly and destructive. Reluctant admiration filled him, but was quickly squelched and overcome.

He glanced at her from the corner of his eye. So she was desperate for the story of her life, was she? How far would she go to get it?

Although his expression remained stern, inwardly he winced. Nobody deserved to be around him and suffer his miserable existence. Not even a meddler like her.

He stopped and faced her. "I'll answer your questions, but not for free. I want a quid pro quo."

She raised her chin. "All right. What is it?"

"Sex. Whenever and wherever I want it."

Her eyes widened, and she stared at him, her lips parted.

"Yes or no?"

He couldn't deny he wanted her body, even though he had no intention of telling her everything she would undoubtedly want to ask. As the silence stretched between them, triumph slowly filled him. She wouldn't have the guts to say yes.

"You're joking," she said finally.

"I really must be more careful with my inflection. Did it sound like a joke to you?"

She jumped to her feet, her face scarlet. Both dogs looked up instantly, but neither moved. "That's preposterous!"

Something that had been wound tightly inside him loosened a bit. He liked her indignation. He wanted her so flustered and uncomfortable that she'd want to leave. He wanted to shake her the way she'd shaken him the moment she'd appeared at the gates.

"It's no more preposterous than your outrageous blackmail."

"You'repropositioning me?"

He shrugged. "A business proposition." Leave, leave, leave. You don't want to be around me. I'm unfit for human company, and you don't really want to know the true me.

She swallowed. Her eyes flashed fire at him. "I won't sleep with you, not even for the interview."

"Ah, well..." He moved a hand languidly, turning his palm up and spreading his fingers as though inviting someone into a parlor. "A pity."

"There has to be another way!"

He tilted his head. "What other way? I haven't been with a woman for a while, and all you can possibly offer me is your body," he said, infusing his words with every ounce of mockery he could muster. "Nothing more."

He knew he needed to do this to make her go away, yet every word tasted bitter on his tongue. The loathing in her eyes made him feel disgustingly low, a sinner beyond redemption. He wanted to hate her right now, but instead he hated himself for his inability to drag her outside the gates and leave her.

"How about a kiss for an answer? Will that be all right?" She bit her lower lip. "It's not sex, but ... it's all I can offer."

"A kiss?" He raised an eyebrow.

"Yes. No ... touching or anything like that."

"Aside from your lips."

"Yes."

The silence hung heavily between them. He should laugh in her face, tell her to go to hell with her ridiculous junior high school offer. A kiss! Yet he couldn't.

It's not enough that you're a miserable son of a bitch, you have to make everyone around you miserable, too, don't you? Selena's bitter words rang in his ears.

He should tell Victoria no. Yet his tongue refused to obey him.

He found himself saying "I accept," and despised himself for his weakness.

She sighed. "Thank you."

Don't you dare thank me. He wanted her to see the kind of monster she'd made her deal with.

He came around the table. "Shall we seal our bargain?"

He put an arm around her shoulders and the opposite hand at the small of her back, pulled her to him and covered her mouth with his before she could utter a protest.

Chapter Four

Victoria froze at the touch of Damien's lips on hers. She'd expected a cruel display of triumph, but what she got was infinitely gentle and coaxing, sweeter than well-aged wine, more of a velvet intoxication.

Damien's mouth moved over hers and his tongue tasted her, sipping her as if she were the elixir of life. His muscular arms held her tightly to his length. His body heat branded her. His scent--male, with some sort of sophisticated cologne she didn't recognize--went to her head, making her dizzy, almost drunk with the unfamiliar stirring of desire. Unconsciously, her lips parted and he seized the moment, invading her mouth and then her senses. He tasted of man, berries and something far headier than anything she'd ever known.

Her world spun, her legs threatened to fold under her, and her heart pounded so hard she couldn't hear anything else. Her arms rose of their own volition and wrapped themselves around his neck. She heard a moan, but didn't know who had made the sound.

A sensual heat started in her belly, and her body molded itself to his, finding a perfect fit. She could feel his hard arousal. Instead of repelling her, it made her feel desired. She wanted--

He pushed her away. She stumbled and put a hand to her ravished lips. She looked at him from under a fallen wing of hair. If it hadn't been for his harsh breathing, she'd have never guessed that the kiss had any effect on him.

"Acceptable," he said.

Confusion clouded her brain. "What--"

He turned away from her and exited the kitchen as if he hadn't a care in the world, taking a roll from the table as he did so. The dogs followed him. His cavalier attitude sent rage and humiliation through her body. Her hands trembled, and she clenched them.

How dare he treat her like a plaything? She'd agreed to his bargain only because he'd insisted on it.

Was he doing this on purpose or was it her? The arousal in his body wasn't something he could've faked. So why the sudden withdrawal and rejection?

What was he afraid of? What did he think she would find from the interview? She wasn't writing some memoir based on sordid tabloid speculations. Miranda must have told him she was doing a well-researched and reputable biography. Shouldn't he feel relieved?

She shook herself and stood straight, smoothing her hair back into place. Her feelings of anger and confusion settled into a steely determination as she put the dirty plates in the sink and swept the crumbs off the table. She would not allow him to rattle her.

She returned to her room, her mouth set in a tight line. For once she didn't worry about the dogs. She had an interview to conduct.