Barbara J. Hancock - Brimstone Seduction

Severne had stepped lightly to the side. He was offering her a seat. Because she didn’t want to seem intimidated or afraid, she took it, and he sank down beside her. Thankfully, the dancers were now separately working on individual elements of the ballet so the overall suggestive effect of the piece was lost. Unfortunately, the only suggestion left was the full force of her affinity for Severne, closed in the curtained-off box where her seat and Severne’s were so close that his arm brushed hers.

He moved to place the opera glasses back in their slot. He had to lean across her body to do so. She couldn’t will the affinity away. This close, it was impossible to ignore. Even if she could, his natural magnetism would have called to her with or without Brimstone in his blood.

It was the end of the day. Whatever he did in his Victorian offices, he’d literally rolled up his sleeves. The hair on his arm brushed hers. The tattoos she’d seen before peeked from beneath his white sleeve. This was his leisure—overseeing rehearsals, pondering damnation and torturing her.

He sat back from returning the opera glasses to her chair, but the scent of smoky sandalwood still teased her nose. She wouldn’t meet his penetrating gaze. He hadn’t looked back at the dancers since she’d arrived. While she avoided his eyes, she noticed the longish black waves of his hair were slightly damp and curled against the open collar of his shirt.

She was familiar with temptation and resistance. Surrender was a new possibility. She was afraid if she spent too long in John Severne’s company, her limits might be tested. He was a daemon, but he had taken the guise of a very attractive man. She was drawn to the burn beneath his control. She was drawn to what he might hide beneath the hardness he cultivated for the world. His penchant for sugary kisses and his reaction to her cello music gave her a glimpse at what vulnerabilities he might hide.

He wasn’t a forthright man, but a daemon. His every move screamed those truths to her even though his words and demeanor were enigmatic.

“Your music will make this dance impossible to resist. The audience will be captivated,” he said.

And yet he also made raw confessions at every turn.

She lifted her gaze from the dancers below to Severne’s eyes. The shadows were too deep to see any green, but he tilted toward her as if to accommodate her search, and a shaft of stage light fell over his eyes. The rest of his face was still shadowed, but his eyes were fully illuminated and as green as she’d seen them before.

His eyes and his shadowed mouth drew her.

But she quickly rose before she fell further under his daemon spell. Or his masculine spell. Or both.

She wasn’t here to be seduced. Surrender wasn’t an option.

“I enjoy the music. I appreciate the dance. I don’t want to captivate. I just want to find my sister,” she said.

She mumbled to excuse herself as she tried to navigate gracefully past his long, lean legs. He stood, but he didn’t try to stop her. She pushed through the heavy curtains behind their seats, but as she did she heard him reply.

“As do I, Katherine. As do I.”

He said he wanted to help her find her sister, but she wasn’t certain what he wanted most. He was a bottomless pit of wants and needs she couldn’t quite ascertain.

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