Chapter 33
CHAPTER
THIRTY-THREE
Zephyr
No instructions had been given, and I wondered what they expected of me.
If Darby were here, he’d command the room.
He would dazzle these men with his smile, pick a lap and straddle it, or lift a cocktail glass and take a sip.
Once I saw him pluck a cigarette from another man’s lips and drag from it, then blow the smoke out in rings. He was unflappable.
I was out of place. Breathing unevenly and starting to sweat under the heat of so many watchful eyes. Beneath that, low currents of lust had begun to wash up, and I was hungry. Emptied by Maslow only an hour earlier and keenly aware of what could be a feast.
I wet my lips.
Maslow marched up beside me, munching on a pastry that dropped crumbs down the front of his suit. He beckoned to Narcissus. “You said your uncle was here.”
The angel grimaced. “He will be. Shortly.” Pivoting, Narcissus consulted the spiky-haired angel near the head of the table. “Speaking of absent parties, I thought Florian would be joining us.”
The younger man shook his head. “He’s in his room. Hasn’t come out since last night’s dinner meltdown.”
“Spoiled brat,” Narcissus scoffed. “Leave it to our brother to stage a protest over the existence of broccoli.”
The other angel chuckled and lifted his cocktail for a sip. “You should be glad he didn’t come. This way, you may end the night with some chips still in front of you.”
Narcissus squared his shoulders, seeming to regain awareness of the rest of the room, very much including me. “Since we’re waiting, perhaps we should let the entertainment do its job. Go ahead, demon.” He hissed the word. “Work your magic.”
I glanced at him, then the others.
Did they want me to dance? Seduce? Entice?
I swallowed dry and did nothing before Maslow spoke again.
“Cherry’s a little shy, but you gentlemen don’t have to be.” He swept his gaze across the table, landing on the man seated closest. “You look intrigued. Come on up here.” He crooked a gold-ringed finger, and the man approached, looking me over with an air of inspection.
People looked at me all the time. At the club, they stared, whistled, and catcalled. I spent every night under watchful eyes, the object of endless fantasies. Those who couldn’t get close enough to touch me with their hands undressed me with their eyes.
This man’s gaze held some of that intent, some of that attraction, but with a menacing edge. I half expected him to flash a sharp-toothed smile as though I wasn’t the one with fangs.
Maslow planted one hand on my back while urging the other man closer. “Are you ready to be charmed, sir?” he asked, then nodded to me. “Give him a kiss.”
My stomach plummeted. In fact, all of me felt like I was falling as Maslow flashed a winsome smile.
“Incubi secrete venom in their mouths,” he explained. “A powerful aphrodisiac. You can taste it for yourself. Get in there nice and deep.”
“Venom?” The other man frowned. “Like poison?”
Beck’s accusations and cutting glare filtered through my mind.
I’d known since I told Darby that I’d done what Beck said.
Whether out of instinct or impulse, I’d tried to claim him as my own.
I wanted to keep him, wanted him to return, so I put my venom in his hand because he hadn’t kissed me. And now he never would.
“Think of it as getting struck by Cupid’s arrow,” Maslow said with a wink. “It can even make you fall in love.”
I saw the change in the man’s eyes, the decision made moments before he grabbed the hair at the back of my head and hauled me in.
The kiss was rough as our lips smashed together and teeth clicked.
When his tongue forced its way inside, I wanted to bite him too.
Not to keep him, though, but to chase him away.
My hands flew up to brace against his chest, but he pressed in despite them, sweeping the inside of my mouth until I squeaked in protest.
When the man pulled back, his flavor coated my tongue, cigar smoke and alcohol that burned as I forced myself to swallow. But he wasn’t done.
“I don’t taste anything,” he told Maslow, sounding accusatory.
There was nothing on my bare back for the wraith to grab, but his palm anchored me as he hissed, “Did you give it to him?”
I shook my head, rattling the chains that swagged from the golden choker.
“I-I don’t know how,” I sputtered.
Maslow’s bloated features wrenched, and he barked at the other man. “Try again.”
Regripping my hair, the man dove into me. He swallowed my yelp of surprise and leveraged his other hand around my arm, pulling me snugly against him while he ravaged my mouth.
Desire trickled off him like the drip of a faucet, and god, I was thirsty.
It was almost subconscious the way I relented to his touch, imagining that I was held by more familiar hands, kissed with passion instead of persistence, and that I was gagging on Beck’s fingers instead of this stranger’s liquor-slicked tongue.
Then he broke away, and there was reality. Not just one man, but his friends too. They swarmed around me while lust thickened the air.
“It’s sweet,” the first man said.
Another voice boomed from the back. “Let me try.”
Maslow grinned. “Go ahead.”
I leaned back with a whimper, and Maslow pinched my side. While the next man shouldered his way to the front of the small crowd, the wraith bent to whisper in my ear.
“Listen here, baby boy. You only know one word tonight. Do you understand? Whatever these nice men ask, you say yes. Start now and tell me: are you gonna be good?”
My head dipped in a weak nod. “Yeah…” Maslow’s reproachful scowl started me stammering. “Y-yes, Mazzy.”
With his smile reaffixed, the wraith consulted the waiting men. “Who’s next?”
I didn’t dare backpedal when the next man crowded in and grabbed my chin, squeezing his fingers into my cheeks to lever my jaw open.
“Lemme see.” He peered inside like a dentist checking for cavities. “There’s some sharp fucking teeth in there. Like vampire fangs.” He tipped my head back so I had no choice but to meet his narrow eyes. “If you make me bleed, I’ll punch you in your whore mouth. Got it?”
My heart hammered, and my cheeks ached where his fingertips sank in, but I managed to nod.
When Maslow pinched my side again, tears pricked my eyes.
“Yes,” I said, a bit garbled with my mouth forced open wide.
The man holding me snorted, then reached into my mouth. He poked and prodded, touching everything from the insides of my cheeks to the soft palate under my tongue.
I was panting by the time he pulled free, then he held up his fingers and licked them clean.
“My turn,” a third man growled, edging toward the front.
A blink freed twin tears to race down my face.
“Fucking love this, don’t you, baby boy?” Maslow gave me a shake. “Soon they won’t be able to keep away from you. They’ll be like animals chasing your scent back to the club where they can have you all to themselves. Night after night. Next!”
The last word was a shout that left my ears ringing. I was still reeling when I found myself snatched up again. My arms were folded in half and squeezed by big hands, my breath stolen by a brutal kiss.
Maslow’s palm never left the dip of my back, and as this new assailant poured into me, the energy flowed straight through. It poured into my mouth like a drink I had no choice but to guzzle, only to be siphoned out by the wraith’s persistent touch.
He’d turned me into a conduit. A living battery.
The push and pull of power racing in and out made my head spin, and my knees quaked while the men passed me from one ruthless grip to the next.
They touched everything. Everywhere. Pinching my nipples while I squirmed and squealed, pulling my hair, squeezing my throat…
I choked on mingled saliva, suffocated on shared breath, and struggled while coarse fingers raked down my chest and cupped me through my pants. A swat on the ass made me jerk and nearly choke on the tongue thrusting between my teeth.
When I pushed too much, struggled in a way they found more annoying than amusing, one of them pulled off his necktie and looped it around my wrists. The knot cinched down, pinning my hands helplessly together. The cloth wrapped again as another knot was added, tight enough to pinch.
My cries were muffled, then overwhelmed by a communal rumble of laughter. I lost track of who was in front of me, beside me, behind me… of what was me or them and mine or theirs.
Maslow’s hand remained distinct, and it burned. It stayed as affixed as if he were inside me somehow. A plug in an outlet. A bulb in a socket. Stealing my light.
“What do we think, gentlemen?” Narcissus’s voice rose above the clamor. “Would our clients appreciate having something like this on the menu? The wraith has offered a supply of these creatures to adorn our high-roller rooms. Could be lap ornaments? Perhaps under the table service?”
As if on command, I was dropped or maybe driven to the ground, where I barely caught myself with my bound hands. It was all I could do to hold myself up, muscles weak and body wavering. No one was touching me now, but my skin pulsed with residual heat from Maslow’s palm.
I hated him.
For finding me. For bringing me here. For proving I could serve my purpose in any room, not just the one he built.
I hated what he’d made of me.
A sob clawed up my throat while the men cleared a path for the angel’s approach. With a vicious twist, Narcissus’s long fingers tangled in my hair.
The angel stooped overhead, more heavenly than he had any right to be with the wicked gleam in his eyes.
“Sit up, slut,” he said.
Tears ran freely while I struggled to obey. Kneeling before him, I thought again of Maslow’s hellish audition—the only one of my performances he’d ever cared about. Then I thought of Beck’s suite, where I’d willingly offered what was now being demanded.