Page 19 of Pride: Kneel Before None

“Nice try.” I laughed at how predictable she was when she couldn’t rely on her precognition.

She stomped her foot and growled in such a way that I was sure was supposed to sound menacing, but I found it charming.

Approaching her once more, I leaned in to grace her with a small peck to those currently pouting lips of hers. At the last second, she turned her face. I gladly accepted the space on her freckle-spattered cheek to press my lips to her skin in a delicate show of affection.

There were nearly three thousand inches of skin on her body that I wanted to kiss, and now there was one less inch that hadn’t met my mouth.

Straightening, I tugged on my suit jacket to smooth it out over my torso. “Your bedroom is over there.” I gestured to my right. “But I won’t complain if you are waiting for me in my room when I return.” I nodded over toward the opposite end of the penthouse where a spiral staircase led up to a second floor where the master bedroom was located.

An unrepentant and devilish smirk graced my lips before I added, “Preferably lacking clothes.”

Eve scoffed and defiantly stalked to the sofa, dropping herself right into the corner cushion with clear refusal to look my way.

She’d have to try harder if she wanted to sour my mood with her sulking. Now that I had her here with me after all this time waiting, nothing was going to bring me down.

Okay, there was just one thing that was still pissing me off. But I intended to go pry information from that fucking bloodsucker right now.

Let’s see how he fared when I gave him the blood of a Knight and watched him burn slower than lust denied.

CHAPTER 7

I kept my ass parked on the sofa for several minutes after Ace left. Inside my soul, I both despised the man and wanted to climb him like a damn tree. It was clear he was obsessed with me, and I couldn’t blame him for that. Yet not being able to read his intentions left me hesitant to allow him any closer than he had already gotten.

Too close.

Ten minutes after the door shut behind him, I finally pushed off the couch and examined my surroundings more closely. The floor beneath my bare feet was smooth, cool. It was made of polished wood with char marks throughout, deviating from the rest of the building’s two-toned theme of black and silver.

At least this place would be moderately acceptable if I were stuck here much longer. It wasn’t up to my standards, but a little redecorating would go a long way. That was if I stuck around long enough to even call an interior designer. Which I had zero intention of doing.

The living room had all the markings of a bachelor pad with the oversized television that took up most of the space on the wall, plush leather seating, a bar cart filled with rare whiskeys, and various forms of entertainment in the form of darts, chess, and what looked like an expensive set of Liar’s Dice.

From the coffee table that looked like it was fashioned from an old whiskey barrel, I picked up a magazine, Superbian Elite. On the front cover of the publication was Ace’s smug face, his stance at ease with his hands tucked into the pockets of his black dress slacks that hugged his hips just so. It oozed confidence and staged casualness, perhaps a bit over the top in terms of the man’s supposed charm. The fabric of his charcoal grey dress shirt stretched across his torso tight enough to show the lines of muscle—not that I noticed.

The coverline read, “Casino Powerhouse. Knight of Hell. Superbia’s Most Eligible Demon. Ace Reynard talks power and prestige, wealth, and guilty pleasures on page 7.”

My thumb ran over the edges of the pages, tempted to flip to the featured story on page seven. Instead, I huffed out and tossed the damn magazine back down onto the table. The slap of glossy paper against polished wood echoed annoyingly loud in this fucking neat freak’s wet dream of a living room.

Sheer masculinity radiated from every corner and screamed either desperately single or toxic addiction to women. If not for the knowledge of his wealth that likely afforded him a maid, I may have been otherwise impressed at how clean and organized it was.

The furniture was set in all warm brown tones with neutral accenting. Leather seating and oak tables filled the space. Above the back of the sofa on the wall hung what seemed to be his pièce de résistance, a large plaque with two identical swords mounted on it.

The accent lights above the display gleamed off the black steel of the blades, which looked like they had never been used given how much they shone. Each handle was decorated with both functional and visual beauty. The grip was a mixture of black and silver, feeding up to the straight crossguard, bearing the same dual color scheme before the manganese length glimmered with elements of silver hues within the metal itself.

Stepping closer, I read the inscription beneath the weapons.

In honor of his service as a Knight of Hell, these swords are bestowed upon Barnabel ‘Ace’ Reynard for all eternity. Ardeat Clara In Fraternitas.

Barnabel?

A giggle trickled out past my lips despite my fingers pressed to my lips trying to hold it in. No wonder he went by his nickname. At least my parents had the intelligence to grace me with a timeless name that emanated superior elegance and beauty.

Exploring the rest of the penthouse at a leisurely pace, I checked out the fully stocked kitchen before wandering upstairs to where Ace had pointed out the location of his bedroom. He’d left the door cracked open.

Pushing the door open wider, I peered into the darkness for a moment before deciding I didn’t want to find out what lay beyond the threshold. For all I knew, the room could have been loaded with things I wouldn’t be able to unsee. Things that could either be hallmarks of a serial killer or just an unhinged freak. Or the worst case scenario? Completely mundane and unimpressive.

Backtracking downstairs to the other side of the penthouse, I came to the bedroom he had relegated as mine. Braving it, I stepped inside, the lights automatically flickering on, sensing my movement within the space.

This room was different from everything else in the penthouse. It didn’t scream self-absorbed bachelor. Instead, it was cozy and filled with feminine warmth. A vase filled with stunning and fragrant blooms sat on a vanity, adding to the pleasing aesthetic of the decor. The bed was neatly made with an array of bedding in shades of neutral creams and soft pinks. An explosion of pillows of various sizes lined the upholstered headboard.