Chapter 31 #2
Since Beck’s rejection, I’d all but given up on the idea of rescue. The Dollhouse was my home, and this was my life. I was nearly resigned, but not completely because my traitorous heart drummed at the prospect of a divine savior.
Angels were good. Maybe this one would be good to me.
He arrived before us, towering overhead by several inches. Everything about him was overwhelming, overpowering, and I shied away from his inspection.
Pale gray eyes flicked up and down my form, seeing everything on display.
My smile faltered, so I tried again, pressing my lips together and thinking so hard about my expression that I was certain it came out wrong.
“Narcissus,” Maslow greeted. “Come down to say hello?”
The angel—Narcissus—frowned at Maslow before motioning toward me. “Just making sure you brought it.”
It?
I glanced over one shoulder then the other, searching for the object in question. But there was nothing, and Maslow’s hands were empty save for the one curled like a vise around my wrist.
It.
Did he mean me?
“How could I forget?” Maslow replied with a wide grin. “A salesman should never leave the house without his sample.”
The casino’s hum dulled around us. The clink of chips, the melodic ding of slot machines—none of it touched the space we stood in. Passing people parted around the angel like fish swimming downstream. A few turned their heads or slowed to gawk at Narcissus, but most kept moving.
Narcissus looked at me again, slower this time.
I shivered despite the heat of the lights and the blood Maslow’s grip forced to my fingertips.
If I weren’t tethered, I might have wrapped my arms across my chest, tried to cover up.
Not that it would’ve helped. I got the feeling Narcissus’s icy eyes would have stripped me down regardless of how much clothing I had on.
“Do they all look like this?” The angel waved his long, pale fingers in my direction.
Maslow cocked his head to consider. “There’s a variety. Something for every taste, I’d say.”
I looked down at myself, at the mesh swathing over long stretches of skin, the painted nails, and the golden collar. I looked, and I tried not to curl inward. Every word and gesture being exchanged pushed me further toward that invisible shelf where I could be tagged, priced, and posed.
A doll.
A toy.
An object.
That point was being driven straight into my chest. Deeper still when Narcissus gave a curt nod.
“Good,” he said. “We maintain a particular aesthetic here, and that red is garish.”
My free hand moved to the scarlet locks resting against my collarbone. My fingertips felt foreign as they brushed my skin. Not at all the way Beck touched me.
He’d liked my hair, hadn’t he?
He said I was beautiful. Not garish.
“You could dye it,” Maslow replied, and the angel sneered.
“You could.”
The two men faced each other, impossibly different but somehow the same. I was wrong about Narcissus saving me. He was stunning but scornful, and I saw now that his colorless eyes were devoid of anything but cold calculation.
Maslow smirked at the angel, likely feeling in good company with someone as wicked as he was. “Where’s your uncle?”
“Upstairs,” Narcissus replied.
“Best not to keep him waiting, don’t you think?”
Narcissus huffed and tossed his head. A reluctant concession. Before taking a step, he held his hand out toward me. “I’ll take it,” he said.
It.
Maslow released my wrist, then nudged me toward the angel.
I struggled to free my feet from what felt like a sucking mire.
It wasn’t the tile or carpet that bound me, but a profound sense of unease.
I was unsure of what we were doing here, who this angel and his uncle were, and why I had been brought to meet them.
After crossing the casino floor, we boarded an express elevator with two options for floors: twenty and twenty-one.
Not as high as Beck’s suite at the Grecian but still guaranteed to offer an enviable view of the city.
I couldn’t enjoy the thought. Couldn’t feel anything but queasy and confused as I snuck glances at the angel beside me.
His face was fixed forward, posture rigid, so I couldn’t see much besides his jawline and the upturned tip of his nose.
The elevator door showed the blur of our reflection like the one at Beck’s hotel had. I’d liked what I saw then: Beck standing behind me with his arms curled around, shielding me from the world.
In contrast, Narcissus stood aside, frigid and distant. His fingertips bored painfully into my bicep.
“You know,” Maslow drawled from behind us. “I find the red rather striking. It’s half the reason I picked him. He blends right in at the Dollhouse.”
Narcissus didn’t bother turning around. “Yes. Quite the fixture for your den of sin, I’m sure.”
“You should come by sometime,” Maslow continued, casual despite the angel’s contempt. “Meet the other boys.”
“Are they incubi as well?” Narcissus asked.
“No,” Maslow replied. “Cherry here is a one-off. For now.”
The elevator dinged our arrival on the twenty-first floor, and the door slid aside. A wave of perfumed air drifted in, sharp and floral, but undercut with something metallic. Narcissus moved ahead, tugging me into the room.
It wasn’t like anything downstairs. The casino floor had glimmered with gold and showmanship, lights and movement and noise designed to distract and dazzle. But this was hush and hush money. This was the seat of power.
The floor beneath my sandals was veined marble, polished to a mirror shine. The tray ceiling overhead was framed and lit to showcase paintings of cherubs in sapphire robes, flitting between lush white clouds.
At the center of the room sat a sprawling poker table carved from dark wood and covered in ivory felt.
Around it lounged five men holding cigars and cocktail glasses.
Three seats remained empty, one at the head of the table and one to the right of that.
The third was farther down, separated distinctly enough that I got the feeling it was reserved for guests.
Along the wall, attendants stood like shadows—a mix of humans and angels—all wearing ivory uniforms with gleaming brass buttons and expressionless faces.
Maslow veered off without ceremony, angling toward the refreshments in the corner. A round table boasted a tower of crystal flutes, trays of sliced fruit and sugared nuts, and puff pastries studded with edible flowers and flecked with gold.
Narcissus remained beside me, statuesque. When he spoke, his voice was low but commanding.
“Gentlemen,” he said. “A little diversion to elevate the afternoon.”
Five sets of eyes lifted in unison.
Their attention wasn’t hungry. They weren’t loud with their lust like the crowds at the Dollhouse, but I sensed their interest all the same. Their gazes moved across my frame the way a jeweler might inspect a gem—checking the cut, seeking out flaws.
Narcissus released me, but I remained fixed in place by his words. “I present to you a rare specimen. New to the city. Singular in nature. Handpicked for tonight’s enjoyment.”
He said it as if I were an exotic bottle being uncorked. Something imported, expensive, and ultimately disposable.
Fear spread from my core, taking command of my body. I’d always thought the choices when reacting to danger were to fight or flee, but I found myself locked in a third option: freeze.
The man closest to us leaned back in his chair. A cigar fumed between his fingers. “This is the incubus?”
Narcissus inclined his head. “A young one.”
That mattered, apparently. The second man at the table made a sound, a hum like the purr of an engine warming up.
The third man, wearing a pinstriped suit and a pair of sunglasses, bridged his fingers. “Interesting,” he said.
A younger version of Narcissus sat to the left of the empty chair at the head. He had spiky blond hair and pale eyes that pinched as he muttered, “He looks like a harem boy.”
The fifth man said nothing, just watched me with a wolfish tilt to his mouth, clearly imagining something I would rather not.
I stood where Narcissus had placed me. Shoulders back. Chin up. Expression schooled into the kind of practiced serenity that could read as confidence if you didn’t look too closely.
But they were looking closely. All of them.
I wanted to run, but I couldn’t move.
Because this wasn’t a room full of rich men.
This was a room full of predators, and I’d been thrown in like bait.