Read an Excerpt
Copyright © Lizzie Lynn Lee 2014. All Rights Reserved, Total-E-Ntwined Limited, T/A Totally Bound Publishing.
Emmaline St. James realised her dinner guests weren’t human when the big bowl of spaghetti and meatballs flew from the table and crashed upward to the ceiling. She was pretty darn sure about it. How could someone levitate an inanimate object with a flick of a finger, unless he wasn’t human? And besides, Lucian Lucca, Mr Hot Guy and her next-door neighbour, wasn’t like any man she’d ever met.
He fit the description of that tall, dark and handsome stranger cliché, and more. At almost seven feet tall with a body like a Greek god and black, shoulder-length hair, Lucian looked like someone from the cover of a fitness magazine. He brooded a lot. But when he smiled, Lucian made her breathless. And horny. So aroused that she couldn’t resist masturbating every time she fantasised about him. No man she’d ever met had been able to make her blood boil like that. It was unnatural.
Brennan Adair was another story. He was her next-door neighbour and Mr Handsome. His beauty was so otherworldly, Emma was sure he could turn a straight man gay. She noticed how everybody gaped whenever he strolled by—women went nuts about him. Almost every day, Emma saw someone lurking by his front door to slip in a note for him or to leave him goodies. Brennan ignored all his admirers, but for some reason he was nice to Emma. He continually ogled her with a look that could melt arctic ice. He made her burn. Hot and horny as hell.
Having two hot hunks as her next-door neighbours wasn’t something Emma would usually complain about. And since she’d moved into the Sunshine Tower eight weeks ago, Lucian and Brennan had always been nice to her. Too nice, in fact. It was just that they seemed to have a bone to pick with each other. Emma worried she would go home one day and find a gruesome murder scene. That was why she’d decided to invite them over for dinner to discuss their problems. A good neighbour should do that, right? Well, her plan had backfired, and Emma was now convinced the dinner party was a bad idea after all.
They’d started out nice and civil. They’d drunk wine and enjoyed her cooking until Lucian and Brennan had started to bicker again. It had ended up with Lucian bolting from his seat and the bowl of her prized spaghetti and meatballs flying to the ceiling where it was now. It stayed there for a few seconds before crashing down to the table. Tomato sauce splattered everywhere. A big juicy meatball landed in her cleavage. Emma was so stunned, she couldn’t find anything to say for a long moment.
“Holy shit.” Emma finally found her voice, but she still couldn’t believe what she had seen. “How did you do that?”
Brennan cut his gaze to her. “Look what you did, idiot. You made her dress dirty.” He took a napkin to clean the sauce and the meatball from her.
“Don’t touch her, you pervert. She’s mine,” Lucian barked.
I’m what? Emma was startled. Did he just say I was his?
Brennan ignored Lucian’s threat and plucked the meatball from her chest, causing Lucian to spew some very offensive curses. All of a sudden, the dessert plate with the neatly arranged tiramisu squares zoomed in Brennan’s direction. Brennan waved his hand and everything on the table flew. In a blink, her dining room was a mess, as if a tornado had paid a surprise visit.
Emma jumped from her chair and shrank to the wall when Brennan reached for her sleeve to clean the sauce. “W-what are you?”
Brennan paused. His face turned solemn. Lucian’s did too. Maybe they’d noticed Emma referred to them as ‘what’ instead of ‘who’.
Lucian glared at Brennan and Brennan gave him an equally evil look.
“I guess there’s no point hiding our true nature anymore.” Lucian straightened his imposing posture, folding his arms across his chest. “I’m Asmodai.” He threw Brennan a contemptuous sidelong glance. “And this dunce is Belial.” Brennan looked as if he wanted to choke Lucian but refrained when he saw her expression.
Emma’s brain imploded. Asmodai? Belial? Like that was supposed to mean something. Were they fugitives who needed to live under aliases? But that didn’t explain how they could wreck her dining room with simple hand gestures. She tried to calm herself and couldn’t. She had a hunch they wouldn’t hurt her but she couldn’t shake the feeling she’d encountered something extraordinary. Something supernatural.
“I asked, what are you? Psychics?”
Brennan rose from his seat. He was as tall as Lucian with the bulk to match. His golden eyes narrowed, flooding her with a gaze so intense that Emma felt the air around her thinning. “We aren’t your kind, if that’s what you mean.”