Devil's Cut: Immortal Keeper Vampire Paranormal Romance Series

room was polished and sparkling, now that they weren’t languishing in the shadows. Unfortunately, I only got a glimpse of each, because with Forge leading the way, I practically had to run to keep up. He was dressed in a black V-neck sweater and matching slacks, but instead of making him look urbane, the combination made him look dangerous. Sexy.
“This is…gorgeous,” I commented as we passed by yet another opulent room. “How long have you lived here?”
“I built this place around nineteen hundred. I’ve been here since, though I do still own a property or two in Scotland.”
God, I wished he’d slow down a bit. I hustled to keep up.
“Do you go there often?” It seemed like a perfectly innocuous question, but his face darkened, and I kept my mouth shut after that. No sense in stirring anything up. I wasn’t looking to know his most intimate secrets, just making polite conversation. At least, that was what I told myself as I sized Forge up from behind, most definitely not looking at his spectacular ass.
Previously I hadn’t had an opportunity to study him, since I was usually trying to keep him out of my head. He was an imposing figure. He walked with the careless ease of a powerful man, and as we turned down another hallway, I wondered how big this place was. Certainly bigger than it looked from outside.
“I thought that tonight we’d practice in here.”
The dark hallway opened up to a greenhouse, the domed glass roof offering a fractured glimpse of the stars and a dark blue velvet sky. The space was empty, just a barren flagstone floor and glass all around us. The lack of walls gave me the feeling we were floating in nothingness. I’d never been afraid of the dark, but the hair on the back of my neck stood up as I scanned the impenetrable woods outside.
“You’ve made progress, but you still have far to go. Tonight, we’ll make that shield of yours impenetrable. Ready?”
I’d barely nodded when he was in my head, working to break my shield apart. I scrambled around, patching holes, fixing cracks and generally putting out fires as he poked holes in my hard-won barrier. “Come on, Forge, give me a break here,” I pleaded as he once again stripped away another section, leaving me exposed.
A smile edged up one side of his mouth when I called him Forge, but he didn’t stop, and by the time we took a break an hour later, I had sweat dripping down my back and my head was spinning. “Okay,” I said, certain I had the hang of it this time. “How about this?”
This time when he poked, my shield held. It might not be completely impenetrable, but it was definitely my best work so far. When he flashed me a smile—little more than an upturned corner of his mouth—I held my breath and got ready. Although I felt that unnerving maggot-squirming sensation, he wasn’t able to rip through it.
“That, I believe, will do, Selena.”
A feeling of euphoria filled me up, both from knowing I’d mastered this, and because of the pride in his voice. Even though it was ridiculous, I thrived on success and, apparently, having someone tell me so.
“That deserves a drink, don’t you think?” he said.
I did think so. Relief caused me to lower my guard, and without a word, Forge ripped away my shield. Bastard.
This time there was no doubt that Forge smiled, his white teeth flashing in the dark.
“I’m no bastard, just for the record.” His soft laughter filled up the greenhouse. “Always, Selena, your shield has to remain in place. Especially during the meeting—no exceptions. If anything goes wrong, you will protect yourself, and not worry about anything else.”
“Well, okay.” I grudgingly settled my shield back into place and trudged behind him as he led the way back through the bewildering maze of rooms. He flicked a switch and a chandelier blazed to life and illuminated the room. We’d ended up in a library. A gorgeous, beautiful library.
“Wow. Now this is a room I could spend hours in.” I did another turn, slower this time, taking in the dark, carved bookcases, the obvious expense of the rugs, the huge chandelier in the room. And the books it contained. With shelf after shelf of gold-embossed covers, I’d never seen anything like it. My hands itched to tip one out and take a closer look.
“Anytime you’d like,” Forge commented absently as he set two crystal glasses on the huge desk. “You can help yourself, so long as you return them. There are some I’m quite fond of.”
I reached up and stroked a spine. The leather felt papery, soft almost, and up close, they smelled delicious, like fall leaves. I pulled the book closer, squinting—Charles Dickens, A Tale of Two Cities. It was probably a first edition and worth a fortune. I gently pushed the book back in with its neighbors.
“For now, I’d like your opinion on this,” Forge said as he poured two healthy fingers into the glasses from a crystal decanter. Which meant I had no way of telling what this actually was. When he handed me the glass, challenge shone in his dark eyes.
“Nice color,” I commented, holding it up to the light. Not quite as pale as my whiskeys, this had more of a chestnut color, and the smell… I drew in the heady scent of caramel and toffee. “What is this?” I wondered out loud as Forge sank into one of the leather chairs. The smell was…intoxicating, almost nutty, but I still smelled the oak underlying the peaty aroma.
“Taste it and tell me—you’re the expert,” Forge said, raising his glass to his lips, as I did the same.
God, it was like sipping heaven. Forget Dad’s special batch; this was deeper, richer, so many layers of flavors, and damn if I couldn’t help but take another sip. “It’s… I’ve never tasted anything quite like it,” I told Forge. “Never, and I’ve tasted pretty much everything