Free Temptation, Chronicles of the Fallen, Book 3 by Brenda Huber

her current situation.
    Aside from showing her how to conceal her curse—and obviously he hadn’t done a stellar job of even that—the sperm donor hadn’t wanted anything else to do with her. Perfectly fine with her. She had a life, one she wasn’t going to ditch every time she caught a whiff of something-evil-this-way-comes. She had a good, solid career. Great friends. A nice home. She didn’t want anything to do with the sperm donor either, him or his crazy messed-up world.
    Her abductor regarded her with a new intensity. “Do you know what I am?”
    She tore her gaze from him, focusing on the massive oil painting behind him. Horses and hounds. A fox hunt.
    She felt like that poor little fox right now. Trapped. Helpless. With no way out.
    Damn Michael to Hell and back.
    “I don’t know anything,” she finally said, in a voice as calm as she could possibly make it. “Just let me go. I won’t tell a soul about this. I promise.”
    “You don’t know anything?”
    “That’s right.” She looked him right in the eye, and lied through her pearly whites. “Not a thing.”
    One corner of those delectable lips of his lifted, just slightly, just enough to reveal the hint of a dimple in his cheek. “But you know Michael?”
    Gritting her teeth, she cursed her earlier slip of the tongue and returned her attention to the oil painting.
    “Did your father—”
    “He’s not my father,” she hissed, the angry words exploding from her before she could contain them.
    He leaned back, his head cocked to the side as he regarded her with unmistakable surprise. One long moment passed, then another as he seemed to search for the right words.
    “Let’s start over, shall we? I think we got off on the wrong foot here, darlin’.”
    So he wanted to play nice now? She jerked her wrists, hands splayed upward, to remind him of his manners. “Do you tie up all your guests?” Frustrated when he made no move to untie her, she thumped her fists against the arms of her chair. “And I am not your darlin’ .”
    Something flashed in his eyes. Just for a moment. Just a flicker of emotion, was it pain? Regret? She couldn’t quite say, but it was quickly masked by a charming façade. His grin blossomed fully. The sight of it made her catch her breath. “I only tie up the ones that like to throw things.” He waited a beat, and then he winked at her. Actually winked. “And the ones who ask for it, of course.”
    “Untie me. I promise I won’t throw anything else,” she said with enough sweetness to guarantee a mouthful of cavities.
    “I think we’ll talk first. Get to know each other a little better, what do you say?”
    “A name would be a good place to start,” she suggested, trying to figure out the best angle.
    “Forgive me.” He bowed his head in acknowledgement. “Where are my manners? I’m Gideon.”
    “Gideon what?”
    “Just Gideon. One name’s all I need.”
    Oh, he was pouring the charm on thick now. Not that it would do him any good. Then another thought occurred to her. Maybe she could use this to her advantage. The sperm donor may not have taught her how to fight, but that didn’t mean she was helpless. She had a quick mind. She could figure a way out of this.
    “You want to talk, so talk,” she coaxed, softening her tone. She could pour on the charm too. “What are you?”
    “I figured you knew the answer to that already.” His chin dipped. “I’m a demon. The Demon of Temptation, to be exact. Well, former Demon of Temptation, at any rate.”
    The heat of his gaze sent a shiver of awareness skating up her spine. But his words caught her off guard. Frowning, she argued, “No, you’re not.”
    “I am Temptation,” he insisted. Clearly, she’d offended him somehow.
    “I’m not disputing the temptation part,” she said. He grinned then, all kinds of sexy. Maggie scowled in response and forged on. “It’s the demon part I don’t believe. I would feel it if you were. So what are you?