Chapter Thirteen
“Door Ten,” he said. “Room of Love.”
Alora followed in behind him. “When you said I’d be quite in love, I didn’t think you meant it literally.”
He chuckled, handing her a tumbler of clear liquid. Thirsty and searching for distraction, she swallowed it. “It’s more an experience rather than the real thing.”
Alora took in the four large beds separated only by thin gauzy curtains, each draped with satin sheets and sleek bed skirts that puddled on the floor.
Crimson, of course. “I think I remember Master Merridon saying something similar. That there are no performers here, but an experience for members who are without. But I forget, is it dreams? Or the reliving of old memories?”
“No, you’re thinking of Door Eleven. Lennox prefers that one.”
Alora watched William remove his shoes, intrigued. “Which is Door Eleven?” She brushed the hood from her head, relishing the feel of the fabric against every strand of her hair as it slid down.
“Room of Happy Days,” he supplied, unbuttoning the first few buttons of his shirt. He sat upon the bed, swallowing from the same glass he’d offered her. “Why don’t you take off your shoes.”
Alora, who found herself unabashedly staring at that revealed triangle of skin, thought: What a perfect idea. She bent, unlacing her boots and removing her stockings. She nearly moaned aloud at the feel of her feet in the thick carpet.
“This room is divine.” She couldn’t fathom she’d thought the colors too overpowering only moments before.
When William patted the space beside him, she hurried forward, digging her toes in with every step.
She sat down, the mattress giving way pleasantly, shaping to her body. She wanted to cocoon in it.
“May I?” he asked.
Alora glanced down to his hands, extended toward her throat. She lifted her chin in response, and William made quick work of unclasping her cloak and tossing it from the bed. She whimpered where his fingers brushed her skin.
“How do you feel?” he asked, and his hand, where it’d been against her throat, trailed the length of her neck.
“I feel...” she began and broke. Her head tilted, allowing him further access. His fingers were long and smooth, and she moaned. “I feel like I never want you to stop.”
“Then I won’t,” said William and grinned like he’d managed some great triumph. He pushed the straps from her shoulders, and Alora, in response, tangled her fingers in the collar of his shirt.
William moaned in her ear before his lips pressed against the shell of it, his hands stroking her bared shoulders before dipping lower.
Alora could hardly breathe from the sensation of it, every nerve coming alive and eager for his touch.
She shifted closer, until her body was pressed against his, her hands beginning the task of pulling apart every button of his clothing.
She thought of nothing else, nothing but the sensations racketing through her, the heat pooling at her core.
She wanted to be free of everything, to lie entirely bare before him, and him bare too.
To feel his skin on hers. It didn’t matter anymore who he was, what he looked like.
That his aftershave was a shade near overpowering.
It didn’t matter that she barely knew him and what she did left her feeling more than a little uneasy. She’d take him here. She’d take anyone.
William’s hand was pressed to her abdomen, his warm mouth on her barely concealed chest, pushing her down, and she made to give in, her eyes fluttering open.
To the darkness pooling under the door.
Can it be so late?
She thought she should care but couldn’t, with William’s hand more insistent against her and her body molding like clay to the pressure.
But the darkness built, leeching the color from the floor.
The sight of it caused her chest to hitch beneath William’s adamant administrations.
Something was happening. Should she be afraid?
She wasn’t.
Not even when the door burst open.
William swung around the same moment Alora collapsed back onto her elbows. She couldn’t see anything. Nothing but black, black, black, and then suddenly a shape. Not the night, but a man. A man coated in darkness and hooded. A familiar mask.
“Oh,” she breathed, and bit her lip against the yearning having overcome her.
He was so tall. All of him a mystery to be revealed.
Would he join them? It didn't matter that he’d threatened and lied to her only minutes—hours?
—before. She’d experienced the strength in his arms, knew what his heartbeat sounded like.
He felt dangerous, but the good kind. She’d gladly welcome him in.
She shifted her leg against the other, anything to relieve the ache.
But she didn’t think the hooded Urchin looked at her. In fact, she’d bet anything he only spared his wicked black eyes for William. William with his shirt undone, his waistband riding low on his hips. Alora, attention happily diverted, reached for him.
William didn’t stop her. “A knock would have been appreciated, Brother.”
Alora thought William’s grin appeared taunting and wondered why. Her fingers brushed along his toned abdomen. His eyes fluttered closed, and she was satisfied.
“Get away from her.”
“Why should I?” he all but groaned.
Yes, why should he?
Alora lifted to nip at William’s ear, but her gaze found the Urchin’s. “Can I not have you both?”
“For fuck’s sake, William,” he growled, striding in. “She isn’t a member.”
One moment Alora’s hand was dipping into William’s strained trousers and the next she found herself hauled to her feet by the wrist, pressed tight within the nook of the Urchin’s side.
In precise, jerking movements, he pulled the straps of her dress back in place.
Alora could have sobbed at the feel of his leather-gloved hands. She wanted them everywhere.
She glanced back at William who’d gone quite still. “Close enough,” he said, his tone murderous.
“A measure that doesn’t exist. Forget your own lack of morals, have you thought of what he’d say?”
“I don’t care.”
“You are filth.” Every word from the Urchin’s mouth dripped with venom.
Alora pulled back in surprise, though he didn’t allow her far.
He grabbed her hand. “You’re leaving,” he said to her, and stared at William, daring him to intervene.
When he did not, the Urchin bent, scooping up her shoes and stockings into one arm. “Go.” He pointed out the door.
Alora, desperate as she was, did as she was told. She didn’t look back.
With the door closing behind her, she glanced at her hand, tucked tight within the Urchin’s much larger one. It was an upgrade, certainly—even her heart told her so. She’d ask him to leave the gloves on, she decided. She squeezed harder, flexing her fingers and leaning in.
“Stop that,” he said, and pulled his hand from hers. “Put these on.”
Alora took the boots from him even as the loss of his touch felt like a chasm ripped open inside her. She pouted immediately. “You won’t put them on for me?” The thought of him kneeled at her feet sent her body aching all over again. She nearly pitched forward.
“No, I think you can manage.” With a mournful sigh, Alora put on her shoes. Though she stared unabashedly at his bottom half all the while. “Now drink this.”
“What is it?” she said, taking the bottle from him.
“Water.” He paused while she drank deeply. “Did you know he gave you an enchanted drink?”
“William offered me water too.”
“Hardly.” The growl was back, and Alora had to grit her teeth to keep from ripping off his mask to feel it against her mouth. “You drank Lust, Miss Pennigrim. It’ll wear off with time. Water helps. Though your memories of what happened will be blurry.”
“My new normal,” said Alora, and licked a droplet from her lips.
“You need to go home.”
“Alone?” She could think of nothing more tragic.
“I’ll take you there, and there you will stay, alone, until you are yourself.”
“I am myself!”
“No, you’re drugged. High on enchantment. What you’re experiencing isn’t your natural—”
Either he choked or cleared his throat, but regardless he didn’t finish his thought.
“You sound like you’re familiar.” She didn’t know what she meant exactly. With the potion or with herself.
But the Urchin said, “More than I care to admit.”
Alora thought she should be bothered that William had offered her Lust without informing her of it first, but she couldn’t be bothered right now.
How could she think of anything aside from what sort of body, what sort of mouth, she might find beneath those layers of black standing rigid before her now?
He looked as if he’d demand everything of her, and good grief, she’d give it all and thank him for it.
She knew her assets; she was not delusional. And she’d use them all before their journey ended. Let the lying, conniving ‘general’ deny her then.