Free Tempt the Devil (The Devil of Ponong series #3) by Jill Braden

arms spread
across the back of the settee as he surveyed his grand office. With a sniff, he
tried to convince himself that he’d never been infatuated with her. His fingers
drummed against the dark wood frame of the furniture. Never, he thought.
    Maybe he should hire someone to kill her; but now that the
werewolves were dead, he wasn’t sure who handled contract killings in Levapur.
Every discreet message left at the usual places had gone unanswered.
    Maybe the Devil had killed Petrof.
    No. It couldn’t be. The Devil was smart and ruthless, not
a fool for love. The Devil wouldn’t kill Petrof to protect QuiTai. Petrof was
too important to the Devil’s business. But where had Petrof disappeared to? He’d
never been easy to find, especially after the militia went a bit too far with
that ant torture. But he’d still slipped into town occasionally after that. Now
he was as elusive as a maishun spirit.
    Who knew where to find Petrof? Probably only the Devil.
    And who knew how to get an audience with the Devil?
Probably only QuiTai.
    Frustrated with his circular thoughts, he slapped his hand
against the upholstery. There were too many unknowns. It used to be that he
knew every major criminal in Levapur and what they might do, but that had
changed as soon as the Devil muscled in and took over. Now everything was a
secret, and the Devil was the biggest secret of them all.
    It was too late anyway. Too late to kill her.
    At least she had been taken to the fortress. He was
surprised that Kyam Zul had acted so quickly. She was defenseless now; even the
Devil couldn’t save her there. He looked forward to hearing her beg. That would
be the sweetest thing. As she had once humiliated him and made him plead, he
would now make her grovel. The natural order would be restored.
    But none of that would bring back Turyat.
    That bitch! Why would she kill a man who was already a
ghoul?
    He bowed his head. Tears fell.

Chapter 6: Motives

 
 
    Kyam returned to his office in a restless state. There was no
taking back the morning, was there? QuiTai had him in a strange bind. He couldn’t
save her too soon, but if he were too late, he was screwed that way too. Every
deal with her was a trap. He knew that. He should have asked her why she wanted
things done this way. It made no sense.
    A deep sigh lifted his shoulders. He poured a drink but
left the glass untouched as he tried to remember his exact conversation with
her. The Ponongese could listen to a saga once then repeat it flawlessly. He
wished he could do that, because he knew she’d told him things she thought he
needed to know. But being typical QuiTai, she’d refused to say ‘remember this,’
or ‘this part is the most important.’ She trusted him to be smart. Sometimes he
wished she would treat him like an idiot instead.
    Kyam’s office door rattled. Voices rose outside as
something slammed against it. No one had talked to him in months, and now twice
in one day he had urgent visitors. He had no idea what would happen next.
    The door flung open and Voorus stumbled in, followed by
Kyam’s outraged secretary – a young man with far too much nose and not
enough chin. While his secretary alternately apologized to him and scolded
Voorus, an elderly Thampurian gentleman shuffled through the doorway and into
the room.
    The man carefully made the transition from the wood floor
to the thick carpet. He grasped his cane with cruelly contorted hands. While
every step seemed difficult, the man never faltered. Kyam thought he recognized
him, but no name came to mind.
    Kyam raised a placating hand to his secretary, “It’s all
right.”
    Offended, his secretary sniffed deeply though his
prominent nose and turned on his heel. The office doors banged shut behind him.
    Voorus seemed extremely nervous. The captain wouldn’t look
him directly in the eye. Instead of sitting, he rushed to the old man’s side,
but couldn’t seem to decide if he should help the fellow or simply hover. What
he