Chapter Twenty-Five
Lenora
I’m in Marcus’s room when I open my eyes again. Hundreds of Lenora’s stare back at me from the dozens of mirrors caging me in from all sides. I’m alone, which momentarily surprises me.
The sheet slips down my naked form when I push up. It pools in my lap as I survey the room, search for Marcus. I even start to open my mouth to call for him when I feel it.
Cold stones in January. The crisp brush of steel on skin.
My gaze sweeps over the mirrors this time.
“Veyn?”
A moment of stillness then the slow unspooling of shadows drifting down from the corners.
“So, you were awake.”
I don’t bother concealing the grin that turns up one side of my mouth. “Partially.”
I feel the low rumble of his hum ghost my cheek. It’s light. A feather across skin.
“Your human had questions.”
My grin spreads. “I heard.”
“He thinks he can take you from me.”
I chuckle at the disgruntled sulk in the statement. “I promise not to let that happen.”
The wisp brushing my cheek slides beneath my hair, cups the back of my skull.
My face is forcibly tilted to his. I feel the faintest whisper of air graze my lips and my lashes slip shut.
But the moment it does, he pulls back. The hold stays, but I’m only left with the tingling of my mouth as proof of the kiss.
I think it was a kiss.
“Are you always like this?” I ask quietly. “Invisible,” I add. “Do you have a body?”
“I do.”
I catch the faint sparkle in the air before me. The glittery mist I’m beginning to associate with him.
“Can I see you?”
“No.”
My head tilts in question. “Why not?”
Something scratches the curve of my jaw. It might be teeth.
“Humans have died gazing upon me.”
I search the mist, hoping to catch a glimpse of him. “Are you that attractive?” I tease.
There is a moment of startled silence then the rolling rumble of thunder. Of sand over stone. It’s gruff and a little scary, but the laugh still sends tingles down my spine.
“Let me see,” I urge. “I promise not to fawn.”
Veyn snorts and I think that’s the funniest and most endearing sound.
“I am a demon, pet. We are not beautiful. We are designed to incite fear.”
Telling him I’m not scared of him might not be the best idea given I really don’t know him. He has proven more than once that he is dangerous and powerful, but aside from his protectiveness to keep me for himself, he hasn’t shown any sort of … affection.
Also, what would something that can turn into shapes embedded with razor blades look like in the flesh?
“I bet you’re wrong.” I hear myself murmur, contradicting my own thoughts. “Where’s Marcus?” I ask quickly before he responds to my slip.
“Your human is in his office with the authorities.”
I blink. “What?”
Without waiting for a response, I scramble from amongst the sheets. I realize only when I’m standing that I have no clothes in Marcus’s room and don’t have time to run to mine.
Cursing, I dart into his closet. From the neatly hung row of shirts, I drag a white button up off a hanger and drag it on.
“Is he okay? What do they want?” I hurry back into the bedroom, fingers fumbling on the tiny buttons. “Did they find Sarai?”
“They did find her.”
The fact that it’s this early in the morning, Sarai’s body has been found, and the authorities are already here tells me they know we had a hand in this.
I did.
This is on me, but Marcus is the one they will take away.
Heart clapping, I sprint from the room. Water slaps beneath my feet as I navigate the corridors. Soggy carpets stop at marble, and I slip as I run.
At Marcus’s office, I slow. Mainly to catch my breath, but my ears perk as I draw closer.
“They think the death of Etienne sent her over,” a familiar, male voice says. “I don’t think anyone has seen anything like that in our entire careers.”
“As I mentioned yesterday, I don’t care what happens to any of them.” Marcus’s deep, irritated murmur cuts the man off. “You are wasting my time.”
“See, the timing is off.” I recognize Reuben from his visit yesterday.
“First Etienne is eaten alive by what the medical examiner says had to have been hundreds of snakes. Hundreds, Mr. Usher. Do you know where you can find hundreds of snakes? The . The goddamn rainforest. Not in a posh upscale penthouse of one of the city’s wealthiest families.
Then, not twenty-four hours later, his wife cuts herself …
herself up. I mean, she went above and beyond to make sure she got the job done.
Crazy fact about that — and I don’t know much about biology, but the human body tends to go into shock at some point.
Not Sarai. She just kept going. Hacking away at herself.
She should have died before she got that far. ”
A chair creaks, nearly muffling Marcus’s deep sigh.
“I can’t be sure if you’re implying that I flew in hundreds of snakes or that I … what? Kept Mrs. Duval alive so she could cut herself?”
“I’m saying, you had something to do with this. There isn’t a soul in this city—”
“I can assure you, Reuben, there are plenty of people in this city who would be more than happy to get justice from that family. I’m simply the only one with the means.”
“And the motive,” Reuben shoots back. “You have every right to see that family pay.”
“I was home all night.”
“With your niece.”
I don’t like the implication. That single sentence sends heat washing up my throat to fill my cheeks.
“Yes,” Marcus responds without missing a beat. “We are the only two people in this house. Tell me, Reuben,” the chair creaks again. “You came alone. I’m assuming your superiors have no idea you’re here or they would tell you what a bad idea this would be.”
“Are you threatening me?”
Marcus’s chuckle is low and throat and absolutely threatening. “Do you feel threatened?”
That deep, gravelly voice should not make my knees weak or my body respond, but it’s so close to the voice he makes when he has me pinned under him and he calls me his good girl.
I need to focus.
“I feel like you’re lying,” Reuben snaps, visibly flustered.
“But can you prove it?” Marcus challenges. “You can’t arrest me based on your feelings.”
“I want to know how you did it.”
“I didn’t,” Marcus counters smoothly. “I had nothing to do with either of them.”
“And their eyes?” Reuben grinds through his teeth. “You didn’t think that would point to you?”
“Eyes?” Marcus asks with a genuineness even I nearly believe.
“Both are missing their right eye. A trophy perhaps? An eye for an eye?”
Marcus chuckles. “I’m not a serial killer who collects trophies from his victims. I’m a businessman. We collect debts.”
“You’re a criminal. Your entire family is dirty.”
“I suppose most people would agree, but Lenora and I are in the process of mourning. We would appreciate you not harassing us every morning with half-baked accusations. Now, please leave before Lenora sees you. I will not be kind if you upset her.”
I hear only one chair push back. The one on wheels. Marcus’s.
“Where are Augustus and Bernard Duval? Both are missing.”
“Do you think I’ve upgraded from eyes to full bodies?” Marcus mutters.
The chair legs scrape across marbles, and I know Reuben has pushed to his feet.
“I think you’ve taken them.”
“That is a pretty serious accusation, Reuben. Can you prove it? I’m guessing not or I would be in cuffs. You’re assuming all these things about me and I can assure you, I have nothing to do with any of this.”
There’s a tense silence that lasts much too long. Long enough that I can no longer stand it.
I step into the doorway.
As I pictured it, both men are standing, divided only by the wide desk between them. Reuben is grinding steel with his molars. Aggressively flexing his jaw. His fists. He’s a man on a mission for justice and he has no idea he’s looking in the wrong places.
The Duvals killed my parents.
They killed my boys.
They are the villains.
But he’s in the Usher House, accusing us of being evil.
“Bonjour, mon petit.” Marcus motions me to him. “Venez ici.”
I go without question, eyes never leaving Reuben’s scrutinizing ones.
“Back again, officer?” I murmur. “What have we done now?”
To his credit, he shifts uncomfortably once before steeling himself. “Pardon the institution, Miss Usher. There has been another unfortunate death.”
“Since Marcus is still here and alive, I doubt it’s anyone I will care about.”
“Sarai Duval.”
I allow myself a moment to take in a slow breath before answering, “Another Duval. They certainly are dropping like flies.”
The warm heat of Marcus’s palm burns through the soft fabric of my top to scorch flesh, but I don’t glance at him. Never break eye contact with the man studying our every move.
“Where were you last night, Miss Usher —?”
“That is enough.” Marcus is a wall between me and Reuben before I can even open my mouth. “You will not interrogate her. It’s time to leave.”
“I was here,” I answer anyway. “Mourning the loss of my family. Tell me, Reuben,” I touch Marcus’s arm and gently nudge him aside so I can look into the officer’s face.
“You know the Duvals killed Ames and Eliah in cold blood. Are you this driven to bring their killer to justice or do you see the Usher name and think you can use it to push yourself higher on the official ladder? Because it’s been two weeks since my boys were gunned down and left on the cold streets in puddles of their own blood and you have not made a single arrest. Yet, you have been here twice now for a crime we couldn’t possibly have committed. How is that justice?”
“We’re looking at everything—” he begins.
“It seems to me like you’re only looking at us, forgetting that we didn’t start this, nor do I intend to lose sleep should every last one of them wind up in the ground.”
Wisely, he makes no further attempt to persuade me. He follows Marcus from the room. I hear their combined clips deep into the distance. I move to the windows and peer out into the courtyard just as Reuben steps down the steps. His tiny silhouette moves to his car and he drops inside.
“He will be back.”
Marcus returns, a breathtaking sight in the doorway.
“Yes,” I agree, watching Reuben pull out of the driveway.
The heat of Marcus’s chest settles against my back. Strong. Solid. As grounding as the arms he anchors around my middle.
“You were beautiful,” he murmurs into the side of my cheek.
I was angry.
But I don’t correct him.
“You didn’t wake me,” I say instead.
“You needed rest. Also,” his lips find the curve of my neck, sending a warm tingle down my spine, “I like the sight of you in my bed. In my clothes.”
I turn my face and let him capture my lips. That simple gesture somehow becomes the slow act of his fingers undoing the buttons on my top until it falls open to his hands. I’m nudged up onto the window cushions on my knees, hands splayed across the cold glass.
“You are never allowed to wear anything else,” he breathes, cradling my breasts in both palms.
His thumbs move lazily over the peaks. I watch the points harden with every flick. Moan with the electric currents snapping all the way down to my clit.
“You didn’t finish last night,” I pant, back arching deeper into his touch.
“I did.” His left hand slips down my belly to cup my throbbing sex.
“You were sleeping. Sank my cock deep into your used cunt and emptied.” His fingers slip through the mess.
A combination of my arousal and his release.
“Did you know you cum in your sleep, Lenny? You spread your legs and came all over my dick.”
I gasp at the image, at the hot surge of unadulterated desire that punches through me. Ames loved making me cum in my sleep. He’d finger my switch over and over, counting the number of times I would climax before coming awake.
The similarity is a welcoming blanket of comfort I clasp right as his father works two fingers home.
“Shhh,” he croons when I sob and shudder. “Show me what a good girl you are for me, Lenora. That’s it. Don’t stop.”
I’m vaguely aware of the hiss and snap of his fastens as I rock my hips into his palm. As I chase that sweet release so close.
He stops right as I hit the peak and I whine my protest.
“Don’t you want to cum on my cock, Lenny? Don’t you want to feel stretched and full?” he taunts while pulling me back, pulling me down.
The head of his erection breaks through my opening, and I sink or he rises. We’re both moving and coming together. And I’m melting into that perfect invasion.
“You were made for this,” he breathes into the side of my face. “Made to take me so deep in your tight body. So perfect. My perfect girl. Fuck, that’s it. Ride me.”
Weight braced against the glass, I drive my hips over him. I take him deeper with every plunge. With his words hot in my ear and his finger a steady beat against my clit.
“Marcus!”
“That’s it, baby. Don’t stop. Show me how badly you want my seed inside you.”
I wheeze as I cum. As I grip him tight and shudder. My core seizes around the thick girth of him with such possessive greed, Marcus snarls in my shoulder.
“Fuck!”
His finger strums fast and urgent over my pulsing nub, prolonging my agony until there is nothing but the roar of the ocean between my ears and the flood of his release washing through my channel.
It dribbles out with his slow extraction. It splatters across the bench between my trembling thighs in white puddles.
Behind me, Marcus cups the underside of my chin and tips my head back to the mouth he closes over mine.
“Good girl,” he pants in between hard coaxes. “Took it so well.”
My insides purr at the gentle murmur but it’s short lived when something cracks and splinters in the corridor. The distinct snap of glass beneath a foot. It echoes through the silence.
Marcus pulls back. One hand drops to the front of his trousers, stuffing his still semi erect cock back into its confines while the other sneaks around my waist. I’m gingerly drawn to my feet and held tucked against his side.
“Stay here,” he starts to say.
A harder, deeper crack. The fine snap of a mirror splintering. Cobwebbing. Angry and sharp. The explosion of someone taking a bat to every piece of glass.
Veyn.
Marcus’s caution pushed aside, I sprint after the noise. My fingers fumble with the buttons on my top, twisting each one through the loops as I hurry to find the demon.
“Veyn?”
The burst and pop of destruction continues the further I descend through the corridors, searching for him. But there are no mirrors. Not in any part of the lower-level rooms. Not in the halls. And the louder the shattering grows, the more frantic I become trying to find the cause.
“Veyn, where are you?”
“Lenora.”
Marcus captures my wrist and pulls me to a stop.
“I need to find him. Something’s wrong.”
“Stop.” He forces me to face him, his pale eyes bright with impatience. “You can’t just run off—”
Something shatters over our heads with a deafening crash that rattles the walls. The jagged tinkle of falling glass fills the silence, an echoing force that has my heart clapping up into my throat.