It was a place where the buying and selling of sex slaves was an expected way of life.

They were surrounded by an army of gun-toting warriors two steps in and knocked out before a battle could be waged. While unconscious, they were disarmed, bathed, dressed in the most ridiculous clothing—or lack of clothing—and locked here...a lavish bedroom with furnishings so fine there was no way they had been crafted by human hands.

Lavish and lovely, yes, but a prison all the same. Unfortunately, the door was impenetrable and there were no windows.

Lazarus reclined on the bed as though he were a sultan awaiting the attentions of his favorite concubine. He was dressed like a sultan, too. Shirtless, though a dark velvet robe was draped over the wide expanse of his shoulders. His pants were skintight and white, with diamonds sewn into the seams.

A bowl of fruit was perched next to him. He popped a grape into his mouth and grinned silkily at her. “Why can’t you simply enjoy our newest situation, sunshine?”

How she loathed when he used that stupid nickname. He grew more condescending every day they spent together. “Our captors are going to put us on the auction block. Do you not understand that?”

In went another grape. “Are you afraid no one will want you? You do have that tragic voice, after all.”

He just had to go there, didn’t he? He always had to go there. Why? It wasn’t like she needed a reminder.

“We’ll be separated,” she pointed out.

Bored, he stretched his arms over his head. He looked lazy. Languid. Sexual. “And?”

“And I need you. You’re my only ticket home.” He knew how to find the doorways between realms; she didn’t. He could see every monster in every world, his eyes opened to a spiritual plane she just couldn’t perceive. And when he applied himself, he could fight his way free of any situation; she wasn’t always so lucky.

Right now he was invaluable to her.

“Here’s the thing, sunshine.” He set the bowl of fruit on the only nightstand she hadn’t damaged. “I don’t need you.” His dark gaze slid down the length of her with calculated purpose. “Not yet anyway.”

She stiffened, saying, “What are you implying?”

He arched a brow, amused. Always freaking amused. “What do you think I’m implying?”

“If I don’t have sex with you, you’ll be more than happy to be separated from me.”

“Oh, good. I thought I’d confused you.”

She closed the distance and swung at him, but he ducked.

A soft, husky chuckle escaped him. “Were your other men so bad you refuse to give any others a chance?”

“I’ll give someone a chance—but I have to like him first.”

He shrugged. “Your loss.”

“Why do you even want this? You don’t like me,” she said.

He thought for a moment, gave another shrug. “Maybe I like that you’re available.”

Oh, the romance. Her voice as dry as dirt, she said, “How am I not throwing myself at you right this very second?”

“It’s a definite mystery.”

Argh! He had an answer for everything. “Here’s the thing, darkpit. If you allow yourself to be sold without protest, I’m sure other women will be available to you. Maybe even a few men, too.” She smirked at him. “Have fun with that.”

The threat didn’t faze him. “Exactly my point. And while I’m fine with that turn of events, we both know you are not. I’ll survive. You won’t.”

She was not helpless! No matter what she’d thought a moment ago. “You’ve seen me fight. You know I’m good.”

“Yes, but you’re not good enough,” he replied easily. “Those men we encountered? They are assassins. Clearly trained by the best of the best. So, here are my terms. Strip, climb into this bed and give yourself to me, and I won’t allow you to be sold to anyone.”

A shiver danced through her. The thought of kissing him...touching him...being with him delighted her body in the most primal way. He was strength, and he was beauty. He was power in its purest form, and she would love nothing more than to have a taste. And, deep down, no matter how desperately she tried to deny it, she did want him. She wanted to be held, and comforted, and yes, pleasured. An attempt made, at least. It had been so long....

But she raised her chin and said derisively, “So, basically, you want me to prostitute myself.”

Finally, a reaction other than amusement. His eyes narrowed to tiny slits. “Are you saying you feel no desire for me?”

She could have lied. She desperately wanted to lie. It was difficult for her to trust the opposite sex.

As soon as Alexander had learned about the demon inside her, he’d turned her over to her enemy.

The terrible things they’d done to her...

And yet still she hadn’t blamed Alex for his actions. She’d blamed fear. When she escaped, she went to him, thinking he would love her again if only she explained her situation. He merely lured her into another trap.

As she fought her way free, the people he worked for, the Hunters, had been willing to kill him to get to her.

Come with us willingly or watch him die.

She’d watched him die.

Lazarus isn’t Alex. He knew about the demon. And if she was evil, he was evil times ten. What a pair they made.

Besides, she wasn’t a coward, too afraid of the consequences to speak her mind. “No,” she admitted, “that’s not what I’m saying. But force is force. Also, unlike thirty-eight percent of the population, I refuse to be with a man who thinks of me only as a convenience.”