Chapter 21
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
Rebel House, Captain’s Hall
R obyn
I stare around myself at the hordes of the undead.
When Dad throws a Halloween party, he really throws a Halloween party.
There is no doubt that he is throwing this party as a fuck you to Heine.
He’s making himself look strong.
Rebel House has been transformed.
It’s grand with brick walls, skylights that reveal the moon and stars in the velvet of the black sky above, and leather couches. Glass windows along the back reveal the vista over the lake.
Yet the inside of Rebel House has been changed into the bleak landscape from The Nightmare Before Christmas.
The only light is through the skylights and the crimson candles, which flicker around the room. A vast, artificial skeletal tree spreads its branches over the entire room.
Pumpkins hang from the tree’s branches like peaches.
Giant, silk bats fly across the sky of the ceiling, avoiding the lacy cobwebs.
I’m standing in the quietest spot by the back wall, which is lit up with the word BOO .
The room is packed with board members and important shareholders. I don’t know why I imagined tonight would be filled with togas and fake blood like my college parties were. Instead, this is a decadent display of wealth with custom and vintage costumes: Harlequins that glitter with gems or extravagant Edward Scissorhands.
“The zombies who are showing off their ripped muscles, as if it’s part of the artful decaying costume design and not a sad attempt for scoring women tonight,” D’Angelo drawls, “are the rest of the team.”
I flush. “They do have nice…”
“Pet,” D’Angelo says, warningly.
“Masks,” I finish lamely.
“Good save, thrall.”
I flush deeper.
I can’t help running my hand down my silk, crimson dress. I shiver at the sensation. It brushes against my thigh.
D’Angelo whispered, moments before I stepped out of the front door of Captain’s Hall, to take off my panties and leave them behind .
I did without question.
It felt forbidden.
Also, it was incredible to play the game of obeying my Vampire King, whose collar I was wearing, even if only for one night.
The rule in the Guide was that if the players won a game, then they earned a secret fantasy.
They had more than earned us acting this one out.
Instinctively, I raise my hand to touch the ribbon, which is looped around my neck.
D’Angelo catches the movement. His eyes darken.
This means more to him than he’s admitting. It will also help him to cope with this evening. He hates horror movies, is triggered by visiting parental figures, and has been traumatized at a Halloween event.
Yet he’s not only keeping to the Guide’s rule but also fulfilling his duty by attending this event.
Dad should value D’Angelo more than he does.
When Shay and I knelt for D’Angelo earlier, and D’Angelo firmly ritualistically tied the ribbon around our necks as the last part of our costumes in a solemn silence, he couldn’t hide the shake in his hand.
Shay brushes his knuckles against mine. “You look beautiful, love.”
I smile. “Not as good as you do in that collar.”
Shay ducks his head, but I don’t miss his pleased smile.
He looks like he was born to wear the crimson leather trousers, shirt, and collar.
It’s not a costume on him.
He is a pet.
He’s more comfortable like this, than pretending to be something that he’s not.
D’Angelo, on the other hand, is every inch the Vampire King.
He’s powerful, dominant, and so fucking gorgeous.
I knew that he would in his black, Gothic costume. His leather shirt is skintight with hundreds of buckles. The thick, sweeping coat has a high, turned up collar.
D’Angelo’s face is partially hidden behind a molded, crimson mask. His glossy curls spill around it.
It’s a struggle not to fall to my knees, when his icy blue gaze is directed at me.
Is it truly role play to pretend to be enthralled by him? Shay is his thrall, and looking as he does right now, I’m just as spellbound.
D’Angelo is on high alert, however, stiffly scanning around himself.
I don’t blame him.
This is the night of the year that sparked Heine’s dangerous obsession with him.
Plus, D’Angelo has defied Heine’s order to wear the same costume that he wore during their demonstration.
For my prince of devils from your corrupted angel. Wear this on Halloween. Then I’ll know that you think of me, as much as I think of you XXX
By not wearing it or any of the gifts, D’Angelo is making a statement that he’s not thinking of Heine. He won’t play into his delusion that they’re in any sort of relationship.
He won’t bow to Heine. If he does it once, where will this end?
Yet it’s risky. We know that.
How does a delusional, obsessed stalker react when you stand up to them…?
Violently, I’m guessing.
Dad promised that Heine is banned from the event. He’s put on more security.
But can anyone actually protect us from a man with the type of influence and power as Heine’s family have?
The haunting, throbbing “Freak Show” by Jake Daniels and AViVA plays from the sound system. The vibe fits our costumes.
Pretty waiters dressed as angels and demons are carrying trays of bottles and glasses between the guests.
I study the players. Is it wrong to think how hot dancing zombies are?
“Did the other players coordinate?” Shay sounds disgruntled. “Didn’t we get invited into a chat group or something? Their costumes are brilliant.”
“Don’t worry, cucciolo, we were invited. But I said that we had our own,” D’Angelo replies. “We aren’t the only ones being rebellious misfits .”
“Who else?”
“Zach.”
He points to a Deadpool who is truly going for it in the center of the dance floor.
I laugh. “You have to respect that.”
Shay bounces up and down, thrumming with excitement like he’s desperate to join Zach. “One hundred percent, love. How about we…?”
“One hundred percent not .” D’Angelo grabs Shay by the arm. “You wouldn’t be thinking about dancing on a sprained ankle, would you?”
Shay bites his lip. “Can I take the fifth?”
“Sadly, you’re English,” I point out.
“Because you wouldn’t be the same man who played hockey yesterday on a sprained ankle and both crashed and collapsed all in one game.”
Shay gives a shaky laugh. “Of course not, my king. I’m only a pet.”
“Convenient.” D’Angelo lets go of Shay with a shove. “Interesting how you’re limping then.”
“That’s because you overwork me,” Shay replies, dramatically. “Cruel.”
“I am,” D’Angelo replies, frostily. “Don’t forget it.”
Shay peers around the room with wide eyes. “I’ve never been to a Halloween party before. Being surrounded by all these horror icons is like being in heaven.”
“You’re one sick puppy.”
“It’s what you love best about me.” Shay exchanges a mischievous glance with me, before adding. “Don’t turn around. Pinhead is behind you.”
He isn’t.
Shay truly wants spanking to be part of this role play.
“What?” D’Angelo drops his vampiric act, twirling around like there’s a real demon at his shoulder.
He looks ready to tear out Pinhead’s throat with his fangs.
Shay is startled, having only meant it as a prank.
It’s a prank that backfires, when D’Angelo comes face to face with Dad.
Dad is dressed as Poseidon.
“C-c-coach,” D’Angelo stutters.
“Why do you look ready to faint?” Dad scrutinizes D’Angelo. “Are the giant bats too scary for you? Do you need to toughen up?”
D’Angelo stiffens. “No, coach.”
Dad appears even more god-like than normal. He already has the white hair and beard to play the King of the Sea. He’s added a gleaming gold crown and trident, along with a costume of golden scales and flowing, blue cape.
I move to D’Angelo’s shoulder. “The guys are under enough pressure this week. You wanted the whole team here, and they’re here. So am I. The asshole owner of the club is stalking D’Angelo, however, and Shay is playing, despite medical advice not to. They’re winning games in the face of that and attending public events. That’s fucking tough.”
Dad harrumphs. “It’s not tough to injure yourself before important games or get involved in scandals. I’m glad that you’re dealing well with it, Robyn. Everything rests on this final game. Look around this room. Think about the staff at the rink. They’re all fucked if you lose.”
No pressure then.
Shay’s expression steels. “We won’t, coach.”
Dad hesitates like he’s not certain whether to ask, before he finally says, “Where’s your brother?”
I clench my hands. “You didn’t want him here.”
“You did.”
I turn away my head. “He’s not coming.”
Cody sent Eden a simple text saying that he couldn’t cope with the event tonight and would Eden like to come over to Tide Cottage and have a Halloween dinner party with Michael and him instead.
Eden couldn’t hide how happy that made him.
Partly, I think because he was invited to something by his friend alone. Mainly, because it gave him an excuse to avoid the party as well.
I know that they’ll be having a much better evening together than I am.
Dad’s expression sharpens. “Is he sulking? Brat. I should—”
“Don’t,” I say, sharply. “It’s his choice. I’ll leave, if you say a single bad word about Code.”
I glare at Dad, who’s standing here: A god above the rest of us.
Growing up, Dad always felt that way to Cody and me.
Dad was the famous hockey player, the legend, whose rare attention we were desperate for, whether positive or negative.
Neglected as we were, bad attention was still something.
Does Dad even remember that this is the anniversary of Mom’s death?
My eyes burn with tears.
Does he remember that he didn’t allow Cody and me to celebrate Halloween? That he’d spend the night drunk in his bedroom, while he was the monster that we were scared to awaken?
But now, I’m standing in the same house, while he throws an epic Halloween party for work like that makes it fine.
Does that mean his work is more important to him than his wife and kids could ever be?
To me, this room is filled with people, but it’s still missing Mom and Cody.
The ghosts of our pasts are everywhere.
Shay notices my distress and slips his arm around my waist.
Dad’s eyes widen in shock. “Perhaps, your brother would have grown up stronger, if he hadn’t hidden behind you.”
“Perhaps, he’d have grown up happier, if he hadn’t needed to.” My voice is shaky with anger.
“Trouble in paradise?” Colton sways through the guests behind Dad.
D’Angelo moves in front of Shay and me, protectively.
Colton is dressed as a pirate with an eyepatch and scarlet head scarf over his white blond hair. A matching sash is wound around his middle. He’s clutching a beer, which he’s spilling down his front.
Dad narrows his eyes at Colton. “You’re pissed. Take your damn ass home, Colton.”
“Yes, Dad.”
We all freeze.
Colton appears to have answered without thinking. He blushes.
Dad laughs, nastily. “You’re still the little boy, who I picked out of the gutter after your failed try outs. Pathetic. But you betrayed me. I don’t give second chances after that.”
Colton appears to sober, straightening. “Who says that I want a second chance? But you’re right. You did pick me up. Groomed me like you did all the other vulnerable men with daddy issues .”
Colton’s gaze slides to D’Angelo and then Shay.
The pattern is obvious now that it’s been pointed out.
Yet Dad’s only been trying to help these men, hasn’t he?
He told me that he wanted this newest team in the NHL to be one that offered the chance of redemption to players who were too difficult (because of their issues on the ice or need for therapy), to be selected by other clubs.
My skin crawls, however, when I realize that there could be another side to it as well.
Players like that are vulnerable to being controlled and exploited. They’re more likely to worship Dad for saving them.
D’Angelo does.
He’s suffered his worst fears to save Dad.
“Bullshit,” Dad explodes. Shay flinches. “Get the hell out of my house, you ungrateful asshole. I made you.”
“You own me.” Colton hurls his glass against the wall.
It smashes, splattering beer across Dad.
I gasp. Fear rushes through me.
“Keep back,” D’Angelo mutters.
He’s watching the two men intently, however, and I can tell that he’s processing every word that they’re saying.
Colton seems too drunk to watch his words like he normally does.
We can’t miss this.
Rage reddens Dad’s face, before he rams Colton against the wall, crunching over the shards of glass.
My skin prickles with a cold sweat.
I’m trapped in childhood memories of when the same rage would transform Dad’s face, but it’d be Cody who was grabbed by the ear and yanked into the study for punishment.
I’m shaking.
“I’ve got you, love.” Shay’s expression is grim.
His arm tightens around my waist.
“Hit me,” Colton slurs. “Prove that you’re just like my Old Man. You know what he did to me, after I failed try outs. But make a joke out of it. Go on. Hit me .”
“I’m nothing like your bastard Dad.” Dad shakes Colton. “But you are.”
Colton looks like he may cry. My chest is tight.
“I’m drunk, but you’re drunk on your power over us.” Colton meets D’Angelo’s gaze over Dad’s shoulder. “Don’t tell me that you don’t understand my bid to dethrone coach. You’re a control freak. You must feel as trapped as I do. Don’t you hate coach?”
D'Angelo is breathing too fast. His hands are clenching compulsively.
I glance between Dad and him.
Dad lets go of Colton with a shove, turning to D’Angelo. “Jude?”
I wince at the same time as D’Angelo does.
Jude.
It’s simple but powerful at the same time to use his first name.
Is it genuine affection or a trick?
I don’t know now, and that fucking terrifies me.
Even behind his mask, I can tell that D’Angelo is about to fly apart. He’s tapping out rhythms of three on his thigh.
“We need to get him out of here,” Shay whispers.
I nod.
I glance around me.
I need to do this in a way that doesn’t humiliate my lover.
When I notice an angelic waiter hovering close by, who is wearing nothing but feathery white wings, loin cloth, and a golden mask, I beckon him over.
Then I take the entire tray from the angel.
The tray holds a dark bottle, which is cutely labeled BLOOD and crystal glasses.
“It’s time for the vampire pets to hold a private party for their king,” I declare.
When the tray wobbles, Shay steadies it for me.
“This way, my king.” Shay grabs D’Angelo’s elbow, gesturing toward the front door, as if this was something that we’d previously arranged.
“He hasn’t answered the damn question,” Dad snarls.
“Great party, Dad,” I say, ignoring him, “but we’re going to a less intense afterparty. One without family breakdowns. It’s private.”
D’Angelo catches on, ignoring both Colton and Dad, who are still hotly arguing behind us.
Let them rip each other to pieces. They won’t do the same to my men.
We’re going to hold our own Halloween party, which will exorcise the painful ghosts of our pasts.
We deserve that.
Shay looks glorious, even if he is limping, proudly clearing the way for his king to the exit.
When I pull open the front door and escape out into the rush of fresh air and moonlight, I’m free.
I’m fucking free.