Chapter 29
Chapter
Twenty-Nine
Lizette
G row up, Lizette. Grow up .
The mantra beats with my heart through my head, through my veins, as I stare at the man on the other side of my door.
Dark, forbidding, black suit.
The devil himself.
He’s arrived to wreak havoc on my date night.
“Hello, Angel,” Dante says. “Debating whether to slam the door in my face?”
My heart beats hard and fast and out of control, the dress that arrived by Darcy delivery in my hands.
His gaze drops to it and a slow, dirty smile spreads on his face.
“Nice rags, there, Angel.” He pauses. “Well?”
“I’m debating whether to kick you where it hurts.”
Dante moves fast.
I’m pinned, back to the wall, inside my room and he’s pressed against me. His breath is warm on my lips, his scent seeping down through my bones to my sex, the dress crushed between us.
“I’d like to see you try.”
And he rocks against me, his erection pressing into me, taunting, and I somehow just manage to resist the urge to rock back against it. Inside me, the heat levels are rising to cataclysmic. My traitorous body wants him. The wetness is growing and the itch only he can scratch grows, too. I’m aching.
“Get off me, Dante,” I manage.
“You want me.”
“No,” I whisper, “I don’t. My body might. But me? I don’t like you. I think you’re awful and you don’t even like me. I’m just a girl to taunt, torture and fuck, aren’t I? Or not fuck and leave orgasmless.”
Dante smooths my hair from my face, my neck, and he still rocks into me. Can a girl come from this? Because my clit is tingling and that pre-orgasmic pressure is building.
“Your mind and your body want me. You’re driving yourself mad with it, aren’t you? Trying to work out how someone as fucked up as you are over me can also want Reaper and his dark and still waters. Those, violent, primal and untapped depths. How you can cream your panties and swoon and want the pretty dude with the dimples and curls and soft Dom ways. At the same time.”
“Go away.”
Dante licks my throat, right where Knight bit. He takes his time, licking it over and over and then…oh god, then he starts to suck.
I can’t help it, a cry breaks free, one that’s pure need and desire.
It hurts and feels phenomenal. It’s the long, slow pull of sexy urge. Of almost being owned.
And I push into him. I can’t help it .
His teeth scrape against my skin.
I tremble. The cascade of heated excitement that showers down inside me is almost orgasmic, and I push up, harder, needing that scrape and pull, those feelings.
If he breaks the skin, then?—
Dante steps back. Gaze on my throat, a glimmer coming to his blue eyes that whips hard against my senses.
He didn’t break the skin, but he runs a finger over that patch, making a low moan escape. “Put your hair up on your idiotic date tonight.”
Then he’s gone.
I slide down the wall and hit the floor. I’m not sure how long I’m there.
My mind’s fractured.
I’m back to a jumble of skittering nerve endings that Dante caused, one of the reasons I stayed in my room for a few days. I might have stayed forever, missing work, licking the emotional wounds, until Darcy stormed in. She told me to pull it all together and get out there, show Dante and the others what I’m made of.
Day one, I bussed. Same with day two. Yesterday, she told me to wait tables, and for fuck’s sake, not to go into private rooms or let anyone touch me. And Dante watched. Sometimes Reaper, sometimes Knight, too.
I put a cold fingered hand to my face. I get it. They have to rotate, and I noticed before when I did the menial jobs that’s what they do, keep an eye on this place, on what happens.
On me.
Pandora’s Box must be their most important business place.
And I coped, dealt with every wrong thought, every urge, every whisper to run. All of it. I dealt. Stuck myself together again.
Because in the back of my head was that one thing I could cling to. The early hours rum-soaked kiss from Knight. His asking me out. He didn’t say where or when. Not until the dress arrived today with a note. One word in slanted letters. Tonight .
And now?
Dante’s undone…everything.
“Grow up, Liz, and keep it together,” I mutter.
My heart squeezes and I know I’m not alone. I look up. Into the flat, dark eyes of Reaper, that beautiful scarred face making things in me lurch.
“You’re going to fuck Knight.”
The breath in my body freezes. “He asked me out on a date.”
Reaper steps in, crouches down. “And then he’ll fuck the virgin right out of you.”
“I might not. He might not,” I say.
“That’s a lie.” A phantom of a smile appears. “And you want to.”
“Reaper—”
“Don’t. Just have fun. It’s how this needs to be.”
He picks up my hand and I think he’s going to kiss it, but he doesn’t. Instead, he sucks my four fingers into his mouth. It’s so unexpected, my clit throbs hard.
Unexpected. Intimate. Hot.
Then, looking at me, he runs his tongue over them and bites hard on them, once, twice three times.
“Reaper.” I want to touch him, reach out and trace the scars he wears like medals, like armor. I want to slide under his long-sleeved T-shirt and stroke his tattooed skin, learn all the pathways of scars and knotted skin from injuries, the places that tell silent tales of how he’s survived. I want to touch and kiss and lick them all. “Reaper…”
He lets me go. “I’m sure Dante told you to wear your hair up. Show off your mark. That…” he drops his gaze to my hand a moment, “helps enhance it, as do those fresh bruises. ”
And with that, he leaves too.
If I live to a hundred, I won’t ever understand them and that’s why I’ll always be an outsider. Why I need to go. Because me leaving is still on my personal agenda.
One day.
Knight takes my breath away. He’s the epitome of class and dash, of modern Daddy Dom, and a charming, fun date. My first date.
He’s moneyed and doesn’t care and yeah, I can’t breathe.
He grins, spinning for me on the pavement outside, Julien having collected and escorted me out. In the soft, early evening air, Knight’s dimples flash and that caramel hair’s all copper highlights with touches of gold.
His green eyes are on me, and more than appreciative.
“What do you think, Liz?”
His suit isn’t black. Rather, it’s the deepest, darkest violet that’s almost black, with pinstripes of lavender, as is his waistcoat. The suit’s modern, cutting edge, and the colors daring in their own subdued ways. But the green-gold silk tie that matches his eyes makes it.
“A dashing Daddy,” I whisper.
His grin widens, catches on a little filthy intent, and he goes from charmer to filth in an instant.
“And you look like just the kind of present I love to unwrap.” He leans in, his scent unadorned by perfumes or cloaks. It’s just him, heady and soft and sharp, spice and sweet, masculine and mine.
And my insides go haywire.
Two hours ago, when Dante and then Reaper came to my room, seems like a lifetime ago. I showered, dressed, spent a little time applying a touch of matte red lipstick in a dark, deep rose of sunset, one redolent with rust like what’s left when the orange burns away and the blues are ready to descend. I also put on some mascara and a little eyeshadow. Not much; I’m not really skilled in this arena.
But even the little there seems to transform me into someone else, someone more experienced, exotic. And I pinned my hair. It cascades down in tendrils, my throat bare and the mark glowing, on display, enhanced by Dante and somehow Reaper’s bite on my fingers that now tingle with memory.
And the bite itself.
It’s somehow more .
A deeper felt thrum.
Knight strokes it. His eyes glint but he doesn’t say a word, just opens the sleek black car’s door and pulls me to him. “The dress looks fantastic, and you, Liz, are beyond perfection.”
He helps me into the car.
The dress is stunning. I strap myself in and he leans forward, saying something to the driver I don’t catch. The fabric is the darkest chocolate, the bitter kind that’s almost too much to enjoy, and it’s cut low in the front, showing off my cleavage. It skims my body to my waist and hips where it ends mid-thigh.
I feel naked. Sophisticated. Naughty. The heels are high and spiked, and the stockings are sheer. He didn’t provide me with a bra but the panties are things I’ve never worn in my life. I’m not even sure I can call them actual underwear. They’re wispy, lace. See through and barely there. Just scraps.
With them on, I’m wanton, aware of every brush against my sex, and how they cling as I moisten under his gaze.
“Fuck,” he says, leaning in, licking up my throat and sliding a hand over my breasts. My nipples turn hard. “I’m tempted to skip the dinner and the seduction and just take you. ”
My nervous system swoops and spins and I stutter out a breath. “Would you do that?”
He slips a hand along my thigh and my legs open for him. He brushes against my slit. “Hot, wet and ready.”
“Knight—”
“Daddy,” he corrects.
“Daddy, touch me, please…”
“You’re such a good, perfect girl and with a soft, sweet kitty. Daddy likes to pet it. Open more for me.”
I swallow as my eyes flutter shut and I do as asked. Knight slides a finger beneath the sodden lace and runs it along my lips, sending fiery sparks through me. He dips inside and I shudder, pleasure surging.
But he’s as cruel as Dante. He takes his finger away and sucks it clean, leaning right in. “After. If you’re a good girl. And call me Daddy during dinner.”
Everything snaps back to reality and I shove him from me. “I’m not calling you that in public.”
Knight laughs. “Now that, Liz, is a punishable offense.”
“You’re horrible.”
“No, I’m fantastically wicked.”
I press my nose to the window as the different worlds of Starlight City flash by. We go from grunge to poor to industrial to business. And then we’re in the heart of it all. Bright lights and beautiful people move at a fast pace to get to wherever they’re going. We pass fancy shops and theaters and I remember being here once, as a kid, when Dad and I went to see a show.
I think he snuck us in, because we were in the back, me on his lap, and we only entered when the lights were down.
It was an otherworldly, magical experience.
Like this one.
Soon we’re past that part and drive into where tall buildings and multi-story dwellings with tiny gardens stand near a park that twinkles with lights. It’s still busy, but the beautiful are better dressed, moving slower, like they’re where they need to be and pace won’t matter.
The car pulls up at a gate that leads into the park, it’s lit with fairy lights and the path, when we alight the vehicle, takes us down a glittery paved trail to a gorgeous restaurant.
I’m gaping. I know I am.
I turn to Knight. “I can’t go in there.”
“Sure you can.”
“I don’t belong.”
“You fucking do.”
I shake my head. “I’m a fraud.”
He takes my chin and guides me to look at him and he brushes my mouth with his. “Wrong kind of punishable offense. You’re as much of a fraud as anyone inside. Less, really, since you don’t ever pretend to be something you’re not. Tonight, you’re out with a powerful alpha, and as my mate, my omega, with my mark.”
Knight doesn’t wait, he takes my hand and leads us in, and the ma?tre d’ doesn’t even blink at the sight of me.
Of course, he’s all simpering eyes for the glorious Knight.
When we sit, I don’t know how I’m going to be able to enjoy myself. The menu is foreboding, and the wine list short and eye-wateringly expensive. But he just closes the menu and orders wine without looking.
“Baby, Liz, you’re here with me, relax,” he says and puts his hand on my thigh, instantly centering me on his touch, on him.
He’s wonderful company, full of jokes, and he draws me out, gets me to talk about Dad and my life, hopes, and dreams. And I find myself telling him the one thing I haven’t told anyone.
“I used to sing for my dad. Never publicly. But Dante’s threatened me with doing something on the stage, said it was a rule, even though there’s a part of me that does want to sing again. ”
“Of course he made it a rule. But Liz? Dante could be right. Maybe you should sing for us.”
“I didn’t?—”
“You know, I’ve heard you sing, and you have the voice of an angel.” He tastes the wine when it arrives and nods approval. “Maybe we can do something about that. Try the wine.”
“But I’m not angling for a job or being on a stage. I wouldn’t know how to sing in front of others. I just meant…”
“I know what you meant.” He nudges the glass. “Try it.”
I do, and it tastes good. I wrinkle my nose. “I don’t think I have a palate to tell you anything beyond if I like it or not. And I like it.”
He grins, leans in and kisses me on the lips as his hand slides higher. “That’s okay, it’s all about if you like it or you don’t. The rest is noise.”
Knight orders dinner, and I don’t mind. He likes that kind of control and in a place like this, I wouldn’t know where to start with what to eat so I let him.
As we talk and eat, I’m aware of eyes on me, and from more than one female. At first, I think it’s because of him and how he looks. And then I realize it is because of him and who he is. To them.
Knight’s fucked them.
My stomach churns as I put down my fork on the chocolate whatever it is that melts and makes love to my mouth. “I need the bathroom.”
“Liz, anyone looking is just jealous.”
“I know.”
“Of you,” he adds.
“I know. They’ve slept with you and want another round.”
He frowns then grins. “Some. But I was talking about the guys looking. Bathroom... In the back past the palm trees.”
I wobble in my heels, feeling five-years-old as I make my way to the back, past the palm trees and into a very low-lit hall.
“You didn’t heed my warning.”
The smooth, low voice almost makes me jump. The stranger’s scent is there, not as strong as before, but now the man makes himself known I can smell the rum, dark chocolate, coffee and smoke.
I whip around.
And he’s there. Blond, tall, good looking.
Dangerous.
That beats hard in my veins.
“Who are you?” I ask.
“Just remember what I said. And hold on, little omega, things are going to start getting jumpy.”
I step towards him as someone growls behind me, and in the time it takes for me to glance at no one at all and back, the mysterious ghost of a man’s gone.
Heart thumping wild and unease spreading cold through me, I find the bathroom and freshen up.
Calmer, I step out and run into a man whose fingers bite hard in my arms. “Watch it.”
I look up, my heart clenching painfully. “You.”
“ You .” Jake. The one from Pandora’s, the one who got me in all this. The one who wanted to rape me. “Bitch.”
He shoves me hard into the door of the bathroom and it swings open. I stagger back, just managing to keep hold of my footing as I grab for the knob.
“You stupid cunt. You almost got me killed. Keep the fuck away from me.”
And then he runs off.
My head spins, everything surreal.
I step out, staring in the direction he went.
And then I smell lavender, honey, leather and my knees go weak.
Knight. I turn and he slides an arm around me, pulling me in against him and he kisses me, hard. It’s pure ownership. It’s comfort, and my head spins, this time in an entirely different way.
“Are you alright?”
I nod.
And he grins. “There’s someone from the Council here, high up. Feel like a show?”