Chapter 29
29
“ I s this thing armored?” I swear to god, we’re in the biggest vehicle I’ve ever laid eyes on. It makes Angel’s massive shoulders in the driver’s seat look regular-sized, and in the back, I’m nothing more than an ant perched on an expanse of leather that spans in both directions.
“Something like that,” Grey murmurs from his position in the passenger seat. He’s busy tapping away on his phone and both of them are acting weird.
All I know is that we’re apparently paying a visit to Lilith House, which is one of the other Households and about an hour’s drive from Port Macabre.
We’re headed toward even more remote country, where there are few people, and even fewer vehicles.
This feels like the introduction to a horror movie. Three people in an oddly silent car, descending into mist-laden hills… nothing to set a chill in your veins about that, at all.
“Can you tell me anything about where we’re going?” I want to reach over to shake them by their muscled shoulders and demand to know why they’re both so on edge and whether I should have tried to slip a kitchen knife into my clutch. While I trust the two of them to protect me as best they can, the fact they’re clearly uncomfortable is setting my pulse racing. Not in a good way, either.
After my explorations of Noire House and inability to find either of them yesterday, there hasn’t exactly been much conversation around this visitation. All Grey would tell me is to expect much the same as my night at the mansion. It’s supposedly about being seen within this world, and to be observed by silent figures hidden in the shadows.
None of them appear to know who they are, although Grey’s energy tells me he knows something. Even if he’s refusing to let me know whatever that might be. I don’t want to push him for information, as much as it’s eating away at me like a feral creature, roaming wild in my brain with a million questions.
He’s not the kind of man to intentionally leave me in the dark. Unlike Hawke Calliano.
I figure there will be answers gleaned from being in attendance at Lilith House tonight, so my best course of action is to just go with it. Hopefully, the opportunity might arise that I can begin to make some plans of my own.
We pull into a narrow road, or more of a lane, that begins to climb higher into the hilly landscape. Out here, the forest is dense and obscures any chance to see where we might be heading. In the fading light, the headlamps of the vehicle illuminate thick tree trunks and shrubs, and as we continue to weave our way to this secluded destination, I spot a few gleaming eyes and flickering ears of deer before they dart off into the undergrowth.
Banks of mist thicken and pool into a heavy blanket covering the landscape. Whether the chill in the air really is a drop in temperature or just my body reacting to the ominous feeling of whatever it is tonight is going to bring our way, I’m unsure .
Noire House is somewhat isolated from Port Macabre, but this location is downright cut off from society.
You could hide hundreds of thousands of bodies out here.
Certainly, no one would hear you scream.
As we crest a final ridge, bringing us around a bend that reveals a sweeping ravine down below, I see lights up ahead. A building stands tall and equally as gothic in its finishes as Noire House, except this looks more akin to a series of turreted towers. It’s far more angular and compact. The mansion we left behind is sprawling and goes on for endless lengthy corridors, whereas this building looks like spires climbing into the sky.
What I can’t help but notice is the inky darkness of the exterior. The building damn near blends into the night, and it’s only the fact the navy-bluish hue of the late evening sky still lingers that I get a good look at the razor-sharp peaks and parapets.
Then I see the rest of the estate. Sprawling off into the distance is what looks to be a whole village, a community of sorts. It almost makes me gasp in surprise because, after the grandiosity of the mansion, there are all similarly designed properties with spiked, turreted roofs.
At the heart of it all is a vast tent, like some kind of midnight circus. A network of pathways glow with lanterns and form a ring extending from the sides, leading to where it sits at the center.
“The Household members loyal to Lilith House choose to live here,” Grey tells me as we pull up to the largest building. “Whereas at Noire House, members come and go, here they choose to stay.”
I don’t know whether to let slip that I know Angel came from here—or at least whether I can trust what Will told me yesterday. Neither of these men have given me any indication of that fact themselves, and it only adds to the uncomfortable swirl of emotions slowly circling tighter inside me.
“Can they leave?” I ask .
“Other than when given orders by the Household and the council, no. Though their members might be required to leave for long periods of time if that’s the nature of their instructions.” Again, it’s unusual for Grey to be so sparse with his words. While I can’t see the other man’s face in the seat beside him, there’s an energy I don’t know how to read filling this car like we’ve plunged into a river and, the water level is slowly rising to consume everything within its path.
“Is this place the same as Noire House? A club?”
“In some ways. Of a different kind, love.”
I’m confused and, in all honesty, a little frightened by what all of this might mean. Although, I know the only option for me here is to keep fighting and to keep swimming, no matter how long it takes me to reach that unknown shoreline.
Besides, I don’t know whether there is going to be anything to expect from tonight other than to be in attendance and then for my two men to take me far away from here.
So, I run my clammy palms over the material of my dress, one that floats around my ankles with a black tulle skirt and halter neckline, quietly gathering myself.
Angel is out of the vehicle and opening my door for me within a few heartbeats. Something has descended over him, and the way he’s behaving is strained like a rubber band pulled so tight, he’s liable to snap at any moment.
The lines creasing his brow make my heart ache for everything he can’t express, and I don’t want to push him further. This moment is clearly fraught with rippling tension, and if I think back to how he was after the night at Noire House and everything with Hawke, I know we’ll be ok once we’re away from here.
My questions can be saved for Grey later.
We don’t enter the main building like I’m anticipating. Instead, we follow the path illuminated with burning flame torches in the direction of the large, pointed-top tent. It really does look like something from a circus, except nothing about this screams funfairs and light entertainment.
The same ever-present feeling of sex and pleasure-seeking hangs in the air. Other figures make their way up ahead of us, but it’s obvious eyes are falling our way.
“We don’t have to wear masks here?”
Angel shakes his head. His body is so close to mine I can feel the heat radiating off him. However, he doesn’t attempt to hold my hand, even though my palm itches to slip inside his.
On my other side, Grey keeps pace, walking with both hands tucked in his pockets, yet I can tell he’s anything but relaxed.
“Lilith House operates by its own codes. When their council members meet, they’ll adopt the customs of the Anguis, but for the most part, they have their own set of rules out here.”
“I felt like I could go missing at Noire House that first night,” I whisper. “But this makes me feel like I could be taken, and not even my bones would ever be found.”
Grey makes a noise that sounds terrifyingly like an agreement, and before I can say anything else, we’ve reached the silken curtain pulled aside, revealing an opulent interior.
This is no circus, indeed.
Instead of tiered seating, there are ottomans, cushions, and padded benches occupied by beautifully dressed people. In the center of the big top, is the main pole holding the peak aloft, and a raised stage. No matter where the audience might be seated, you’d be seen if you were to be in that spotlight.
Currently, it lies empty, but there is a purple and gold light slowly moving in a rippling effect that feels like being underwater.
“Come on.” Grey presses a hand to the small of my back, and that tiny movement, the slight firm touch of him there, feels more comforting than he could ever know. It also feels like no matter how insignificant that might be, it’s a signal to whoever might be watching me that these men are here to look out for my well-being.
Or maybe that’s just my own foolish brain trying to rationalize things.
We find ourselves seats, and the entire time, the weight of stares from the audience descends, thick and constricting. Except, when I take up a position between my two men on one of the padded benches closest to the edge of the tent, I notice the eyes around this space aren’t necessarily on me.
Most of the faces that flicker our way are looking at my giant protector.
So, maybe there is truth to the fact he came from Lilith House, after all.
Fuck it. I’m not going to let whoever thinks they own me have a say in what I do. Not while I still somewhat retain my freedom. Reaching for one of his large paws, I pull it into my lap and wrap both my hands to interlace with his fingers. Angel tilts his head down, looking at where our touch connects, and fortunately for my fragile sanity, he doesn’t try to pull away. Instead he locks us together, curling his fingertips to keep us joined.
Should I be doing the same for Grey? I suddenly feel a pang of concern that I’m somehow neglecting him without intending to.
There’s no time to overthink my complicated situation—or dwell on the fact Hawke didn’t join us—as the lights dim and the stage becomes the central point of focus. A rich purple hue drenches the raised platform, and there’s movement in the middle.
Figures rise up out of the floor, and music starts pulsating with a deep, sensual bass. The sound hooks straight into my gut and tugs forcefully, bringing every ounce of my awareness to the performance that has started, and I can’t look away. It’s only Angel’s hot palm weighing heavily in my lap that feels like a tether to the here and now.
I realize there are suspended hoops and cages being raised into the air. What begins is an aerial show high over the platform, with half a dozen men and women adorned in sheer crystalline bodysuits and diamond-encrusted collars wrapped around their throats. Another similarly sized group performs within larger cages on the platform.
It’s erotic, sensual—part theatrics, part sex—and I can immediately see what Grey meant when he said this place was different from Noire House.
The show here features skilled performers high overhead, who are everything from acrobats to contortionists, while also dragging your awareness to the carnal nature of what’s happening below the figures suspended in the air.
“What is this place?” I tilt my head toward Grey, not taking my eyes off the performance and the crowd.
“Lilith House specializes in training their members from a young age. They’re skilled in infiltrating other worlds, learning how to become your best friend, to learn all your secrets and shadows—embedding themselves in your life for years if necessary—only to turn around and slit your throat if given the command to do so.”
“Like spies?”
He makes a noise that almost sounds like an agreement. “More or less. It’s a little more complicated than that… un dercover operatives, finders, fixers, whatever name you want to give them. But they mostly do so from positions in the public eye.”
“Hiding in plain sight?” As I say the words, I feel Angel’s body tense at my side.
“Usually, yes,” Grey says. “Most public figures, celebrities, the people you see on glossy magazine covers, come from this Household.”
“Power of a different kind,” I whisper. Thinking about how Noire House holds the secrets and lures in those seeking pleasure, but this is a far wider reaching influence.
“If you’re loyal to Lilith House, you learn how to deal in secrets, how to influence someone into making a decision that they themselves didn’t even know they had been coerced to make. It’s a trademark of that Household. A person might think they’ve kept every deepest, darkest desire hidden away, but those will be brought to light and explored, or at worst, exploited. For good or bad. It’s not always manipulative, but if those in power here command it, those connections are pulled on like puppet strings.”
I’ve never seen anything like the figures moving before us, and I’m in awe of the way the showcase unfolds. It’s voyeuristic, designed to trap the eye, and begins to feed into the crowd.
One by one, their carnal thirsts are brought to the surface and encouraged to bloom.
More and more onlookers begin to indulge in their own ways. Touches are exchanged, and mouths begin to explore exposed flesh, all while the lights remain dimmed and the music pulses through the air. This is like being in a nightclub at three a.m. when all your inhibitions have subsided, and you simply lose yourself among the crush of bodies.
As we watch on, some of the crowd are pulled onto the stage to join in, and I guess this is their equivalent of what goes on at Noire House. It might be more of a performance, and obviously there are those here who are highly skilled in their ability to dangle unfathomably high above the heads of the crowd below, but it’s all more or less the same.
Pleasures and flesh are openly on display. Here, it’s just a different setting.
I don’t know how long we sit watching, but I can feel the flush of arousal working its way through my veins. My pussy clenches at the thought of the two men flanking me on either side, and I don’t know what’s expected from this moment onward.
Am I supposed to be joining in, like at Noire House? Am I expected to get up and approach the stage? Or is this just another test to see how well I can hold myself while surrounded by such an open display of sensuality?
It’s a test that feels uncomfortably like being under a microscope. There are maybe a hundred people here, possibly more, and any of them could be inspecting me.
Just as the show on the stage appears to morph into something that spills organically over into the crowd, with the audience being brought in more and more, a shadowy figure appears in front of us.
From out of the darkness, all I see is the flash of a signet ring on a man’s little finger, followed by an unfamiliar voice.
Except this individual is clearly familiar with the man seated at my side, who starts to vibrate with fury before the figure silhouetted by the lights at his back even finishes speaking.
His voice sends a chilled tendril straight down my spine.
“Hello, Angelo. It has certainly been a while.”