Chapter 14
Chapter Fourteen
W ith my mind stuck on the sight of the soapy bubbles gliding down Rook’s muscles and the water droplets falling off the tip of his dick, I reluctantly headed downstairs. Also knowing that Sylas was helping, I was confident that the search for my sword would turn out successful. It has to be around here somewhere. Where else would it be?
In this day and age, I didn’t lug it around everywhere with me. Could you imagine the terrified looks of all the little humans as I sauntered down the sidewalk casually wielding a large blade in one hand and my coffee in the other?
Entering the study, no sooner than my fingers wrapped around the handle of the door that led into the basement did Christina timidly call my name.
“Miss Ward?”
Why on earth was she so goddamn skittish lately? It was grating on my nerves. At first, it was cute, but now it was just downright annoying.
I looked over my shoulder. “Yes, Christina?” My eyes landed on a white box in her hands, looking no bigger than one that could hold a pair of sneakers. There was a pristinely tied black silk bow wrapped around it.
The girl shifted on her feet and extended the box toward me. “This just arrived for you. The delivery man said you should be sure to open it right away.”
A smile stretched across my pink lips. A gift? I love presents.
Relinquishing my grasp on the door handle, I walked over to her and eased the box out of her hands. There didn’t appear to be a card on the outside, so I tugged on the tail of the ribbon and watched the bow unravel before my eyes.
As the wide satin material fell to the ground, I pried the top off of the container. Setting the lid down on my dark mahogany desk, I immediately pushed the dark tissue paper aside. A sticky black residue adhered to my fingertips as I did.
The final layer of thin paper shifted aside, revealing what lay underneath. A stuffed doll lay there face down, blonde curls set beneath a golden halo. Her silvery white wings and pure white gown were stained with the same black substance that remained on the pads of my fingers.
Burrowing my brows together, I gently reached in as though to cradle a newborn child with the softest of touches. Taking the doll around the waist, I pulled the stuffed angel from the box and turned her to take a look at her face.
The front of her had those onyx-colored smudges on it, sullying what should have been a toy reflective of purity and innocence. If I had known better, I would have thought Rook blew his load on this stuffed toy.
The doll had a pleasant expression on her face, blue plastic eyes nearly sparkling underneath the dim lights from the ceiling overhead. A demure smile rested on her face, making this gift even more unsettling by the sheer amount of what seemed like demonic cum splashed all over it.
My eyes drifted lower to see the doll held a felt scroll between her hands. Embroidered in golden thread were the words, “Welcome to St. Cassius.”
I’m unclear when I dropped the stuffed angel, but the second it hit the floor, a roaring of blood rushed in my ears. Images of the slaughter of the village at the foot of St. Cassius Mountain flickered through my mind like an old movie reel rotating out of control. My heart leapt into my throat, and all my muscles tensed as the box landed next to the doll on the hardwood floor.
Ash. Blood. Smoke. All the memories flooded my senses like an avalanche. Then, as if my brain snapped much like an overstretched rubber band, my present surroundings came hurtling back into place around my awareness.
Christina inched back away from me the moment I focused my wild gaze on her.
“Did you do this?” The words were calm but no less deadly as the intensity built up from my toes to my ears.
The sweet dark-haired woman shook her head several times. “N-no, Miss Ward. I don’t know who?—”
“DON’T LIE TO ME!” I roared. Reaching over to my right, I grabbed the white vase on the edge of my desk. It was packed full of white peonies, their multiple layers not unlike the tissue paper that filled the box resting at my feet.
Winding up, I unleashed the florals and their container at Christina’s head. It sailed through the air, narrowly missing its intended target. Instead, the vase collided with the wall behind her. The ceramic shattered in a spectacular visual of shards, water, and feathery petals.
She screamed as she should have. I wanted to add her to my body count for allowing this souvenir of my past into my home.
“You lying bitch! Tell me where it came from!” I continued my verbal assault, marching toward her. Christina’s mouth moved and words came frantically past her lips, but I couldn’t hear any of them over my rage.
Peonies were crushed beneath my feet as I backed her into a corner where my bookshelves met the wall bearing a large abstract watercolor resembling flames and dirt. Reaching out to wring out her slender turtleneck-clad throat, the blur of a body arriving between me and my intended victim brought a brief gust of wind with it.
Rook stood with his back to the girl, his hands extended out in front of him. “Love, take a breath.”
A snarl rumbled out of my throat, and his presence left me undeterred. Continuing my approach, I prepared to go straight through him if need be.
I never got the chance to try before a set of strong arms wrapped around me in a crushing hold, pinning my arms to my sides. Growling in irritation, I jerked against my captor trying to use my strength to plow through the hold.
“Get the fuck off me!” I ordered, making my displeasure clear as fucking crystal. “That little whore did this!”
Getting dragged away from where Rook blocked my path to the human shaking like a Chihuahua in Minnesota’s winter, I kicked my legs furiously.
My back went from being held against the hard cushion of a broad chest to the less forgiving surface of a wall. Sylas pinned me in place, one hand grabbing my jaw while the other tightly squeezed my bicep. The rest of his athletic body pressed against me, not even allowing me an inch of wiggle room.
I jerked my head to try and keep my eyes on my bad little toy that Rook had been so eager to protect. It didn’t take much to catch glimpses of the hot pink robe as he ushered Christina out of the area.
“Bring her back here! I’m not finished teaching her my lesson!”
Sy’s hand squeezed my jaw and twisted my head back so I was forced to meet his eyes.
He barked an order at me. “Kin, chill your shit!” His assumption that he had any weight to pull with me was laughable.
Every thrash I made against him revealed the level of strength he had to summon to keep me there. If I kept this up long enough, maybe I’d break past his hold.
Glaring stubbornly at him, I reminded him harshly of his place in my world. “Sy, I’m not one of your soldiers you can bark orders at. This doesn’t fucking concern you.”
“The fuck it doesn’t, Kinley. But feel free to be my guest and try to spin your bullshit as to what has you bound and determined to create another mess for me to fucking clean up.” His words were laced with a controlled anger. Typical Sylas, always trying to come off as the perfect fucking poster child for remaining calm under pressure while attempting to keep a situation under control.
“She invited that piece of trash into my home, and I’m going to make sure she never makes the same mistake again.” I balled my hand into a fist and harshly jabbed it into the side of Sy’s ribs, despite the awkward angle.
He grunted and flinched, but it was nowhere near the level of reaction I had hoped for. Instead, he released my jaw and grabbed my forearm tightly. Forcefully, he pinned it up by my head against the wall behind me, his other hand remaining on my bicep.
Rook walked by us, Christina no longer quivering at his side like a cowardly runt.
“Where is she?!” I prayed that he came to his senses and disposed of her, because if not, I would make her death all that more painful.
Without so much as looking at me, he sighed. “I think the poor lass could use a week off.”
“Kin,” Sylas beckoned my attention back to him. “You need to tell me what happened.”
I didn’t even have it in me to roll my eyes. “I don’t owe you an explanation for shit, Sy. Unless there is going to be a conversation about you coming to your damn senses and pulling the stick out of your ass so you can get fucked, go the hell home.”
The quiet snicker from Rook on the other side of the room told me that he was at least in partial agreement.
“Do you even realize how much you’re losing control, Kin?” His eyes damn near pierced my own with the way he refused to acknowledge anything else around us.
Sylas readjusted his grip on me, and I couldn’t help but notice the appeal of the strength he put into holding me there. Having him so close to me, the scent of the golden sun and crisp fruits that lingered on his skin, made me want to rub against him like a purring feline. Combined with the look in his baby blues, and it could have been mistaken for a gaze as hard as stone to anyone else. But to me, something more pliable lingered deeper behind them.
With all my senses remaining on high alert after my outburst, my core began to ache, wondering if he’d be the type to pin me to the bed or prefer to be the one getting pinned. Imagining Sylas giving up that much control had me giggling out loud.
Apparently, that was not the response Sylas wanted as an answer to his question. He pressed in closer to me, causing my laughter to quickly quiet as I bit into my lower lip. A snicker here and there escaped, but I did my best to settle my fit of amusement.
“How is it that we keep finding ourselves in this position, with you pressing me back against the wall?” My words were whispered, and I wasn’t sure why it felt like they needed to come out in such a delicate tone.
Unable to help but notice his body against mine, I rolled my hips against his. The movement confirmed that I wasn’t the only one here enjoying the proximity.
“Kinley…” His words trailed off after whispering my name.
Whatever was left unspoken remained unsaid as we were interrupted.
“Um, mate? There might be a bit of a situation.” Rook stepped up next to us, the white box that had been delivered in his hand, the stuffed doll facing up and returned to its nest of tissue paper inside it.
Easing up off of me, Sylas loosened his grasp on my limbs. Hesitation and wariness lingered in his eyes as he did so.
My arms fell to my sides, resisting the urge to rub where he had gripped me so tightly.
I already knew what was in the box, there was no need for me to torment myself with another look.
“What in the hell is that?” The disgust tainted Sy’s words as he leaned over to look at the soiled doll.
Rook casually answered his question. “The sticky lovin’ nutter of a demon.”
Quickly, he added, “Not mine.” Then he paused thoughtfully, leaned over and gave a few sniffs. His nose wrinkled in repulsion. “Definitely not mine.”
There was no hiding the judgmental stare Sylas gave him.
“You sure you don’t want to give it a taste test to be sure?” he sarcastically asked.
Holding the gift box in one hand, Rook brought a finger near the black gunk on the doll but recoiled before he made contact. “No, I’m sure.”
Sylas shook his head, then turned his attention to me. “Who sent this?”
I shrugged. “No card. Probably whatever demon tried to trick me into thinking Atlas is still alive.”
That was when the air turned awkwardly silent. Rook and Sylas exchanged looks with one another and yet no one dared to acknowledge what I had just said.
In case they’d both spaced out and hadn’t heard me, I slowed my words down. “I said: probably whatever demon tried to trick me into thinking Atlas is still alive and kicking.”
Rubbing his forehead, Sy shifted uncomfortably in his stance. “Look, Kin, I wanted to talk to you about that.”
What was there to fucking talk about? I began to get worked up again. Ancient memories of Atlas’s rapidly decomposing corpse were hard to shake once they took hold of my mind.
“Ah, mate, allow me.” Rook patted Sy’s arm before shoving the white box into the archangel’s reluctant possession.
With my mind less frantic, I watched as the trickster approached me. Was that my robe he had on? I had been acutely aware of it earlier, but other pressing matters had been at hand. Now with a clearer mind, I considered it a miracle his wide-set shoulders hadn’t ripped the seams trying to get his arms in the sleeves.
Taking my hands in both his, Rook smiled gently at me. “Love, when a man feels deeply for a woman, it is only natural that these deep-running emotions manifest in mysterious ways,” he began, only to be quickly interrupted.
“The human half of Atlas’s soul was saved,” Sylas blurted out. “He’s one of us now.”
One of us, or one of Sy? If my Atlassian had truly returned, everybody was going to need a few extra prayers.