About the Book
The passion continues with Masters of Seduction Volume 2, the second collection of sizzling paranormal romance novellas from New York Times and internationally bestselling authors Lara Adrian, Donna Grant, Laura Wright and Alexandra Ivy.
PRICELESS: House of Ebarron
Incubus Master Sorin Ebarron has an insatiable taste for fine things. So when a tantalizing platinum-haired Nephilim walks into his elite casino on the arm of a rival male, Sorin is determined to have the beauty at any cost. But Ashayla is waging her own high-stakes gamble, willing to risk breath and body to win the prize she seeks. Caught in a game of deception and desire, Sorin and Ashayla will discover a secret that may hold the power to shake the gates of both Heaven and Hell...
(This novella is also available HERE.)
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BOUNDLESS: House of Drohas
As Master of the House of Drohas, Javan has a personal stake in his family's art business. The enigmatic Incubus has never embraced that duty more than when a beautiful and talented new artist catches his eye. The Drohas name and influence can help Naomi's career, but she's interested in Javan for a different reason. Believing him to be her sister's killer, Naomi soon finds herself fighting an all-consuming desire for the dangerous man, and thrust into a world she never dreamed existed-a world of angels and demons, poised at the brink of a brewing war.
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DAUNTLESS: House of Trevanion
Incubus Casworon Trevanion likes his nights long and his bed full. But as his House's new Master, Cas's love of demon debauchery is over. Like every royal male before him, Cas's mate has been chosen and will be presented to him at the annual Seafarer's Ball. But when Cas sets his eyes on lovely stranger, Lia, all bets are off. He is meant to possess her. But will he discard his legacy when he realizes the female he desires is none other than the scarred servant who scrubs his floors?
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RECKLESS: House of Furia
Tiege never expected to become Master of Furia, not until his brother's mate was kidnapped and brutally killed. With his House in mourning, Tiege has no choice but to lead, although that doesn't halt his hedonistic lifestyle. Sloane is a former Nephilim Blade who is dedicated to duty. She has nothing in common with the reckless Incubus--except a dangerous passion. But it's that passion they must draw upon in order to raise the spirit of a long-dead Succubus whose stunning revelations could topple the Obsidian Throne forever…
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To learn more about the series, click HERE.
Excerpted from Masters of Seduction: Books 5-8 (Volume 2)
by Lara Adrian
Sorin, Master of the Incubus House of Ebarron, leaned back on the velvet divan in his private office as warm, eager hands worked his silk tie loose, then began to unfasten the buttons of his crisp white shirt.
Another pair of hands slid over his thighs and groin, zeroing in with fevered enthusiasm on the erection that strained against the fabric of his expensive black suit. Behind him stood a third female, whose fingers played in his wavy golden hair as she leaned over him, her naked breasts bobbing above his upturned face like fruit, ripe for the plucking.
He let out a deep sigh, settling into the effortless pleasure that the captain of Ebarron's Watchmen had procured for him for the evening. Sorin had to admit, Milo had fine taste in women.
The trio of human females his personal bodyguard had sent up to the penthouse from Ebarron's elite casino downstairs were beautiful, seductive, and clearly intent on fulfilling Sorin's every wicked desire.
His body responded instantly as they began to undress him. Already his cock was rock hard, rampant behind his zipper. Lust swamped his acute demon senses, from both his own carnal need and that of the three lovely women vying for his favor.
Sex was a powerful drug for any red-blooded male, but especially for one born of the Incubi race. They lived for sex-would die without it, in fact.
Sorin and every Incubus demon like him fed on the energy of their partner's sexual release for sustenance. For life itself. But they fucked for the pure, debauched pleasure of it.
Yet the Master of Ebarron could not have been more bored.
As enticing and arousing as his companions were, they were just three more nameless faces in a sea of women eager to land in the billionaire casino owner's bed. Like the rest of the mortal world, the females had no idea Sorin's wealth was the least remarkable thing about him.
As for his interest in them, Sorin would forget these three the moment they finished with him and left the room. Hell, they were all but forgotten by him now, even with their hands and mouths doing their best to please him.
A hundred distractions tugged at his attention. Matters concerning the family business and his role as the head of venerable Ebarron House. A role that had also come with an unending awareness of his responsibility for the family's treasury, an obscene fortune in artifacts, arcana, and priceless trinkets, which had been wagered and won, bought or collected by the males of his line over thousands of years.
Like the griffin that was the Ebarron sigil, Sorin's family was fiercely proud of their hoard-and famously protective of it as well.
Sorin's thoughts snagged on other issues that weighed on him now too, not the least of which being the persistent unrest and rumors pertaining to the highest seat of power in all of the Incubi realm. The Obsidian Throne was the only thing standing between the gates of Heaven and Hell. The truce struck between the Incubi and the angels, overseen by a council of Nephilim priestesses known as the Three, had forever been a fragile thing.
Whispers of ineffectiveness concerning the current Sovereign on the Throne were hardly new, but reports coming out of the Incubi Houses of Gravori, Romerac, Vipera and Xanthe in recent weeks indicated corruption and collusion of the worst kind.
Bloody damned hell. If boredom with his lovely but forgettable companions wasn't enough to kill his urge to fuck and feed before he'd even gotten started, visions of war between the Incubi and the angels certainly was.
He couldn't have been more relieved when a knock sounded on the office door. "Enter," he commanded to his Watchman posted on the other side.
Milo opened the heavy panel, the dark-haired Incubus's expression sober. "Pardon the interruption, sir. We, ah…we have a situation in the casino."
It was all the reason Sorin needed to extract himself from the three women draped over him. Immodest as any demon, he stood up, began tucking himself back in, zipping and buttoning his disheveled clothing.
"What kind of situation?" Sorin crossed the room to meet his captain at the door. Christ, could the seasoned Watchman's face look any more uncomfortable? "What the fuck is going on down there?"
Milo cleared his throat, kept his voice low enough for Sorin's ears only. "Korda Marakel just walked into the casino."
Sorin's answering curse was dark and vivid. The male was from another Incubus House, and not a Master like Sorin, but one of several lower-ranking cousins of Marakel's Master, the very Incubus who now sat on the Obsidian Throne.
Sorin had once considered Korda Marakel a friend, but now his hackles rose at the mere mention of his name. "Where is the son of a bitch?"
"The roulette room, sir."
The Watchman shook his head. "No, he's with a female companion. A Nephilim."
Sorin's anger flared, spiking toward outrage. "You don't mean he's come back here with-"
"No. Not her." Milo's quick reply spared Sorin from uttering the faithless bitch's name.
Although it had been five years, the betrayal by his former friend, with the woman Sorin might have taken as his mate one day, still sat on his tongue like acid.
Not that he'd ever take Greta back. After learning she'd allowed Korda to seduce her, Sorin had raged more at his own stupidity for letting the Nephilim into his life, than he had out of any kind of emotional pain that she was gone. She'd made a fool of him, squandered his trust.
And he gave no one the chance to do it twice.
As for Korda Marakel, friendship across House lines was a sometimes tenuous thing in the Incubi realm, but especially when one of those Houses was that of the current Sovereign. Not to say there weren't a few honorable males among the Marakels, but treachery seemed to run deep in that bunch of demons.
The same could be said of their arrogance.
If Korda thought he could walk back onto Sorin's turf with impunity, he could think again. "Who's the female with him?"
"Never seen her before, sir."
"Positive." A smirk tugged at the corners of Milo's mouth. "She's not the kind of woman a man is likely to forget."
"Show me." Irritated now, and not a little curious, Sorin gestured to the sulking playthings left behind in his office. "Have one of your men escort the ladies out after they've dressed and collected their things."
Milo gave him a nod. "Consider it done."
The captain of the Watchmen made the call while Sorin and he strode the length of the lavish corridor toward the penthouse elevator. They stepped into the glass lift and descended through the heart of the elegant Ebarron building, toward the casino twelve floors down at ground level.
Built into the side of a mountain nestled deep in the Carpathians of Romania, Ebarron's casino and family fortress was exclusive in the extreme.
Incubus magic protected the place better than any amount of security, rendering it impossible to find on any map or GPS coordinates. Even if outsiders did learn the precise location of the stronghold, unless they could teleport, the terrain itself would keep them away.
As such, the casino catered mostly to Incubi and other, lesser-ranking demonkind, and it was rare that patrons arrived-or stayed-without the Master of Ebarron's knowledge and approval.
Milo stopped the elevator on the broad, balconied second floor, whose galleries overlooked the grand playing halls and gaming salons below. Sorin didn't wait for his Watchman to show him to the balcony poised over the roulette room. He prowled there in irritation, across the hand-loomed Persian rugs and sleek, veined-marble floors, to the edge of the balcony.
Down below, standing among a small, glittering crowd gathered around the green table of the high-stakes wheel, was Korda Marakel.
The tuxedoed, dark-haired Incubus had just lost a bet on the wheel and was scowling as a pile of his chips were swept away by the croupier. By rough estimation, Marakel had just surrendered more than ten thousand euros to Ebarron's bank.
Sorin could hardly contain his smile. He didn't need the money, but the satisfaction of taking something from his old rival was its own reward.
He stared as Korda snapped impatient fingers at one of the cocktail servers carrying a tray of filled champagne flutes. The demon grabbed one in each hand, and when he turned to offer one to the woman beside him, Sorin's gaze followed too.
Damn. Milo was right when he said the Nephilim was something to see.
Tall, long-limbed, with ample curves in all the right places, the platinum blond stood beside Korda Marakel in form-hugging black pants and a matching long-sleeved top sliced far between her breasts in a generous vee. Stiletto-heeled black leather boots rode up her calves and just over her knees. Her long, pale white hair was gathered off her face in a sleek ponytail that gleamed like gossamer silk under the casino's soft lights.
Milo strode up to the balustrade next to Sorin and slanted him a knowing grin. "I don't suppose you've ever seen this Nephilim before either?"
"No," Sorin replied. And what a damned shame that was.
Even from the floor above, he could see that she was beautiful-arrestingly so. Creamy skin, full pink lips, and a dark-lashed gaze that moved over her surroundings with an unmistakable confidence and intellect.
Where the other Nephilim and human females in the casino wore bright colors, sparkling gowns, and expensive jewels just screaming for notice, this woman in body-skimming black needed no embellishments to draw the eye of every man in the place.
Sorin found himself studying her. Fixating on her with an interest he could hardly deny.
Desire flickered through his veins as he watched her bring the slender glass to her mouth. Lush lips parted over perfect white teeth as she took a brief drink. Watching her pretty mouth and throat work suddenly made everything male in Sorin-everything dangerously, carnally Incubus-crackle with rapt, unswerving attention.
Korda Marakel seemed equally entranced with his companion. Leering openly, he leaned in close and whispered something against her ear. She smiled, but the curve of those mesmerizing lips seemed too tight to be genuinely amused.
Marakel didn't seem to notice. Or maybe he didn't care. Crowding her body even more where they stood at the roulette table, he petted her silky platinum hair with a lover's caress. His fingers slid around to her cheek, and the grin he gave her was profane, purely sexual.
Before Sorin could bite it back, a low, disapproving growl rumbled over his tongue.
Marakel must have shocked the poor thing with whatever he suggested next because she recoiled from him, teetering unsteadily on those sky-high heels. With her sudden, awkward wobble, the drink in her hand slipped through her fingers and crashed to the floor.
Champagne exploded in all directions, splashing her and Marakel both. The Incubus sputtered a string of curses as he tried to brush the spilled alcohol from his tux and white shirt.
Sorin grinned. "Couldn't have happened to a better man."
Champagne dripping off his chin, Marakel was furious. He bellowed for help from one of the nearby servers while his lovely companion cautiously backed away from the ruckus.
She didn't seem clumsy at all as she withdrew from the table. And the look on her pretty face was nothing close to contrition.
No, the slight tilt of her lips told a different story altogether.
"Shall I have them both removed from the premises, sir?" Milo asked, chuckling from beside Sorin now.
"No. That won't be necessary." His gaze locked on to the intriguing beauty, he watched as she slipped out of the roulette room to the main parlor of the casino. "I'll handle this personally."