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There were several tables with chairs, where members could usually eat, drink, and gamble, but which now stood empty. The panther in the cage at the far end lay on his stomach and raised his head, his eyes on Dorian and his friends while a python slithered very slowly around the branches of a marula tree behind a glass wall.

“I hear congratulations are in order,” said Blackmore.

Dorian’s jaw worked. “Thank you. Your sister was at my wedding with Lord Richard.”

Thorne cocked his head, his cold, dark eyes warming momentarily at the mention of Jane. “I’m sure she enjoyed herself.”

Dorian nodded. “I hope so.”

Silence hung in the air, with the unspoken question: Why was Dorian spending his wedding night here, and not with his wife? But Blackmore was paid very well to keep his mouth shut and satisfy the deepest, secret cravings of the dukes.

“I apologize for having canceled our reservation a few days ago,” said Dorian. “I had urgent matters to attend.”

He had, of course, needed to meet with Mr. George Rose in London and arrange many things for the wedding, including the special license.

“Of course,” said Thorne Blackmore. “I hope you understand the irreversible fee and the extra payment for an urgent booking for this night. I had to close the club for regular visitors.”

“Most certainly,” said Fortyne as he was already putting down his violet coat and hanging it on the back of the chair. “Do put the bill in my name. This exuberant night is my wedding present to one of my best friends. It seems Rath urgently needs his…ahem…usual distraction.”

Blackmore raised one dark eyebrow and cocked his head in understanding.

Pryde clenched his fists. “Clearly, if the groom abandoned his bride mere hours after their vows, the marriage was a mistake.” His chestnut eyes met Dorian’s directly and accusingly. “This is just the beginning of a complete disaster. And you know why.”

The beast within Dorian lashed like a fiery, burning whip against raw skin. “You know nothing, Constantine.”

Dorian was furious with himself. With Miss Rose—nay, with his duchess—for asking all the right questions, for not being afraid of him, for not keeping her distance.

He’d come here because he wanted her.

Truth was, the moment he’d seen her in the church, he had been completely smitten with her. And that terrified him. He’d never felt anything like that in his entire life—awe and a sense of wonder that she had miraculously stepped into his miserable, lonely life.

He wanted her. Badly.

And yet, she was so innocent. So pure. So young.

With that smile that warmed the icy depths of his heart.

He needed to appease the raging beast inside, which loved nothing more than to destroy beautiful things. Vases. Paintings. Art.

If he took her to his bed, he’d destroy her, too.

He couldn’t do that to an innocent, beautiful thing like his wife.

He needed someone who knew what they were doing. Who knew what he needed.

Lilith.

“This is going to end badly,” said Pryde, standing at Dorian’s right shoulder. “She’s his sister!”

“It’s going to be fine!” Lucien stood next to Dorian and clapped him on his shoulder with all his might. “She’s so pretty, friend. You did the right thing. Well, not yet. The aforementioned right thing is waiting to be done by you back in Rath Hall.”

“Shut your mouths, both of you. You two are driving me insane!” Dorian roared and marched away from them, deeper into the club. “Where’s Lilith, Mr. Blackmore?”

Blackmore, who watched them with an amused look, nodded. “All of the ladies are on their way to you, gentlemen.”

And then they appeared. Lilith was a tall, willowy woman in her late twenties, with a mane of shiny black hair. Her big dark eyes were catlike—the hooded eyes of a true seductress—and they were trained on him. She was dressed in a crimson gown, which dipped low and left little to imagination. Her lips were painted red, too, and he wondered if she had dressed just for him, to match his colors.

The rest of the sex workers followed her. Blonds, brunettes, redheads. Thin, curvy, tall and short, from all kinds of backgrounds. All of them were beautiful and carefully selected by Blackmore—and fiercely protected by him.