Chapter 1
Every demon in Chicago could recognize Satin. It wasn’t just the fact that she was a stunningly beautiful vampire with thick black hair that tumbled down her back and a pale face dominated by eyes the precise shade of aged cognac. Or that she managed the Viper Pit, the most exclusive demon club in the city. It was the thunderous power that vibrated around her reed-slender body. The sort of power that was usually reserved for a clan chief.
Her notoriety meant that she was rarely challenged. By anyone. Something she appreciated when she was working, but it did ensure that there wasn’t much variety in her life.
Until now.
Standing at the edge of the clearing, Satin absorbed the pulse of her surroundings. If her heart could beat it would be thumping with excitement. Instead, it was her fully extended fangs that throbbed in anticipation.
The night air was laced with the scent of her prey. A rich male musk that was unique to pureblooded Were. It whispered of power and sex and the most delicious pain. Relishing the raw, primitive sensations that vibrated through her, Satin stepped out of the thick fringe of trees and allowed the moonlight to bathe her in silver.
When she’d first sought out this secret club that sprawled over a hundred empty acres an hour south of Chicago it had been to scope out the competition. Viper, the local clan chief, and owner of the Viper Pit wasn’t a male who shared his territory. If the Were was attempting to steal their customers, then she would shut him down. Permanently.
It had only taken one visit to realize that the Hunting Grounds was nothing like Viper’s club. There was no elegant building, no plush booths, or beautiful waiters delivering the finest champagne while soft music played in the background. This place was woodlands and overgrown fields and meadows that were shrouded in layers of magic. The demons didn’t come her to mingle or seek their eternal mates. They came to hunt and fight and enjoy meaningless sex with complete abandon.
Even better, the owner of the club, Marco, had strict rules that kept the bloodshed to a minimum. Every guest was there of their free will and any of them could call a halt to the game whenever they wanted.
It was a place for the most powerful demons to test their strength against each other without fear of lasting consequences. And if the night ended with a bout of sizzling sex…so much the better.
Which was exactly why Satin had returned over and over again. There were few creatures who could match her in a one-on-one battle. Perhaps Viper or Styx who was the current King of Vampires. And there were even fewer demons could stir her icy passions to a fever pitch.
On cue, a large male joined her in the clearing.
She hissed, as always stunned by the sight of Marco. Even for a pureblooded Were he was tall with broad shoulders and muscles that rippled beneath his white silk shirt and black slacks. His dark hair was cut short, emphasizing the chiseled symmetry of his features and his eyes that were as dark as the pits of hell and circled with a rim of shimmering gold. It was the brutal heat and savage strength in the air when he was near that enticed Satin. He was not only the local pack master, but he was a cousin to Salvatore, King of Weres.
A perfect opponent.
In more ways than one.
Marco flashed a smug smile, folding his arms over his impressive chest. “I knew you would be here tonight.”
Satin felt a stab of irritation. Was the jerk implying that she was predictable? Or that she simply couldn’t stay away? Either one pissed her off.
“You can read the future? Impressive.”
His smile widened. “I can’t read the future, but I can read you.”
The air dropped by several degrees. “Doubtful.”
His nose flared, a hint of his wolf flashing gold in the depths of his dark eyes. “I can smell your hunger.”
“Actually, I ate before I left my lair,” she drawled.
“You’re not hungry for food.”
“No?”
“You’re hungry for me.”
He was right, of course. It’d been nearly a week since she’d last visited the Hunting Grounds and she’d grown increasingly restless. As if she had an itch she couldn't scratch. But she’d have her fangs extracted before she was going to let him know he’d struck a nerve.
“Of course, you would assume every female desires you.” She lifted her hand to her lips, as if stifling a yawn. “Males are so predictable.”
