Devil's Gate: Elder Races, Book 3 by Thea Harrison Read Free Book Online Page B

Seremela said, eyes dancing, “but if he tries to sell me a picture of his mother’s tits, I’m so out of there.”
    Duncan laughed again. “Trust me, I’ll be right on your heels.”
    They both sobered as they climbed out of the SUV. Duncan said, “The troll spoke the truth, but we should both keep a light pack with us just in case. This would not be a kind place to be stranded in without resources.”
    She nodded, her expression turning grim. She had a large soft bag with a shoulder strap, and she rifled through the contents and shifted over a few items from her carry-on. The last thing she added was a bottle of water. Then she pulled the shoulder strap over her head, lifted her snakes out of the way and settled it firmly across her torso.
    Duncan’s bag of essentials, with the weapons, money and sun protections, was a leather backpack. He pulled out a Beretta 9mm and a five inch hunting knife on a belt. After strapping the pack to his back, he buckled on the knife belt and tucked the gun into the waist of his jeans, making sure the butt was well visible.
    Seremela’s gaze lingered at his waist when he turned to her, but she said nothing about the weapons. She did not carry an obvious weapon, but he noticed that she did not tie back her snakes. Usually she bound them back loosely with a simple scarf at the base of her neck, as though they were dreadlocks. That allowed them to move around but limited their range of reach. Without them restricted in any way, she looked wilder, more feral and exceedingly deadly.
    He heartily approved. He asked, “Okay?”
    She nodded again. Face calm, eyes sharp. Gods, this woman was hotter than Death Valley in July.
    He couldn’t resist touching her again. He cupped her cheek and rubbed his thumb gently along the soft, plush arc of her lips. Her expression softened, and the look she gave him was filled with equal parts tenderness and amazement. He wanted to ask her what caused her to look so surprised when he touched her with affection. He wanted to kiss her slowly and savor that first, intimate taste of her.
    Hunger hissed along his nerve endings and turned aggressive. Her mouth would be so soft, the tender flesh giving way under his. He wanted to coax her lips apart and enter her with his tongue, and just the thought of deepening the kiss was so sexual his groin tightened.
    Someone shouted nearby, splintering the moment. Frowning, he glanced around at the dust filled parking lot then he offered Seremela his hand. She took it.
    “After this is over and we get back to Miami,” he asked, “where are we going to go for our first date?”
    Half a dozen of her snakes rose up to stare at him, and the nictating membranes snapped shut over Seremela’s eyes. Then opened. Then shut. And opened. She blinked rapidly and it stopped. “First date?”
    He wondered what that meant. Perhaps she got sand in her eyes. He asked, “Will you go out with me when we get back? I like the opera. But I like rock concerts too, and I’m a sucker for a good movie.”
    Her delighted smile was truly one of the loveliest expressions he had ever seen on her face. “Yes,” she said. “I like all of that too, but I especially like the opera.”
    “Perfect,” he said with satisfaction. “It’ll give us something to look forward to.”
    At the time, he had no idea how much that would matter.
    Hand-in-hand, together they walked into Devil’s Gate.
    It was everything he had expected, and more: dirty, stinky, unpredictable and overcrowded. The night was windless, and smoke from campfires hung in the air, thick with the scent of cigarette smoke, cooking meat and onions.
    The scene threw him into a cascade of memories. He remembered how incredulous he felt when he found out that his legal work had come to Carling’s attention. She had still been Queen of the Nightkind then, and she courted him with the wily patience of a professional politician and all the wisdom of a seasoned courtesan, until they had