Chapter Twenty-Eight
He arrived precisely on time.
Laken’s dark and dangerous eyes widened as I opened the door, soaking in all of me and my tight black silk dress.
I didn’t own many dresses fit for underground auctions with the rich, but there was one I’d never worn—and it hugged all the right curves.
Thin straps came over my shoulders, dipped across my chest, and kissed my hips with a slit on the leg.
Dresses like this couldn’t be bought in Honey Brooke.
“You… uh—you look good.”
I raised my brows, walking past him to Moon and the cart he’d loaded with two cages and a tarp.
“You think?” It didn’t take more than those seconds for me to memorize his outfit.
A fine black suit embroidered with black threads along its trim and embellished with silver gems around the wrists and collar.
Dark-blond hair flowed over his head in a wave, messy yet clean in the way I loved.
I swallowed. “Wasn’t going to let you look better than me. ”
We matched.
We fucking matched.
Grabbing onto the cart’s seat and hiking a leg to lift myself, the bare skin of my thigh fell through the slit in the dress. Knowing he stared, I peeked over my shoulder. Laken stood with his golden-boy smile and shook his head at the ground. Thank you, Maggie.
“I don’t think I could’ve if I’d tried.”
With Laken settled by my side, I suddenly found myself wishing the seat were broader. Our legs pushed against each other, and due to the dress’s restraint, I didn’t have many options.
Night already devoured the light from the day; shadows and whispers were all to be seen or heard.
Auctions were always held after sunset, according to Laken and Deklan when I’d jumped at the mention of leaving after I’d typically be sleeping.
However, I couldn’t deny the night and her beauty.
A full moon hung over us, casting a glow over the stone streets of Honey Brooke.
“Do you have everything planned for the fundraiser?” Laken pulled my attention from the sky.
“Yes,” I said, keeping my gaze away from him.
“That’s good, it’s only a day away now. You’re close to being done with all of this.” He tried, really tried to make conversation with me. But I couldn’t talk to someone whose love I might be mourning before the week ended.
So I did everything I could to distract myself. Did I lock the doors to the sanctuary? Did I head count the hellblazers? How many stars were in the sky?
Laken stayed silent, and I wished it didn’t bother me as much as it did, but it hurt.
We came to a fork in the road and Moon took the left path, leading us deeper into a forest trail.
Overarching branches intertwined like arms and hands playing tug of war, glimpses of dark greens and browns.
The shadows seemed to dance around the trunks, slithering in and out wherever they could and taking everything they touched with them.
The quietness felt like it held secrets farther within.
It went on and on—and on.
Until Laken shattered the silence. “Are you armed?”
What the fuck? I frowned at him as if he should’ve known better than to ask. “Armed? What do you mean, am I armed? If my fucking arms count, I guess.” I wiggled my limbs.
Without more to say, he pulled a scabbard from under the seat with a dagger already attached. Not any dagger—his dagger. The one he didn’t let anyone touch, use, or breathe on. From under his dark lashes, he looked at me. “Leg, please.”
I would’ve had a remark about it, but the fact he trusted me with the blade told me enough to keep my mouth shut.
Sliding my leg to him, he sat up and leaned over, running his hand up the slit in my dress.
His bare skin did something to my body that felt very unholy.
Something I’d burn for if the Gods ever caught word of it.
His fingers ran the strap through the latch and pulled tight, moving fingers under it to make sure it wasn’t too tight. “Good?”
I swallowed and yanked my head to look in the other direction. “Mm-hmm,” I groaned. Fuck, Reece. He’s leaving. Stop this shit.
Luckily, it didn’t matter because Laken went right back to minding his own business, and I couldn’t bring myself to say something. Why wasn’t he talking? Was he mad? I hadn’t done anything, really… or was he also preparing himself to be without me? And did it even matter?
But there wasn’t time for that. Over the horizon, a black mansion came into sight along with the sounds of horses and others arriving.
Game time. His eyes darted around, observing and studying as we came closer.
I hoped he knew what he’d gotten us into because I took one little glance at all the guards in crimson uniforms and could’ve run with my tail tucked.
They stood firm with daggers around their thighs, swords on their backs, and several of them with magic flaring between their fingers.
Something stirred in my gut. All these guards, the other attendees, all of this money. They do so much to come and buy magical creatures. How many animals were in there? How many needed saving?
“Are Deklan or any Wraiths coming tonight?”
Laken shook his head. “No, we’re just getting the pigs and leaving.”
“Why not”—I leaned in to whisper—“take the poachers out while we’re here?”
His lips turned downward. “We haven’t been paid to. We were paid to save piggly wigglys.” Right. Everything was business. “We pay what you owe, and the sanctuary leaves their list. That’s my only concern.”
“What, they don’t attack paid and well-kept sanctuaries?”
Carefully glancing around and maintaining a nonchalant posture, he explained they only go for places they believe people have turned a blind eye to. Closing in, we ended the conversation there.
He guided Moon around the half-circle path, and despite the time of day, light poured from inside as they opened and closed the door. There was a dark and sinister light with a red hue to it, as if they dipped their candles in blood or something.
“Holy shit,” I breathed out but didn’t mean to. It was supposed to stay in my head.
“Nervous?” Laken asked, keeping a keen eye on the guards.
“Me?” My voice rose and I sank into the seat. “No, never.”
His high-held chin and straight shoulders gave off very confident vibes I assumed I should match.
I brushed my hair back from my face, and a piece got caught on my glossed lips.
I ghosted a quick hand over my cheek to move it before I choked but missed it the first try and had to drag it off my tongue.
Laken leaned into me. “Can you stop that?” he whispered with a rather condescending tone.
I cut my eyes to him, but he stared forward. With my hair rightfully sorted and in place, I faked the poise he had.
Younger boys and girls, stable hands dressed in regular pants and boots, were taking carriages. As we pulled up, one approached us, and Laken handed the reins to a freckle-faced little redheaded boy standing shorter than me. What kind of mess could pull children into working at such a place?
As Laken walked to my side, I couldn’t stop gawking at the mansion.
I mean, like twenty of my old apartment could fit in there.
How did someone afford it? Selling paintings of their feet to the right people?
No, of course not. There was one way to get that rich—crime.
Getting your hands a little dirty, a little bloody.
Unfortunately, their crimes crossed with my path.
Laken offered his hand, and I hesitated to take it.
Touching him did something to me, it turned my mind to mush.
The second we connected, my skin tingled.
I stepped out of the cart, taking his side.
It happened so fast, I didn’t know who let go of whose hand, but they were no longer intertwined.
The only thing I felt was the cold absence of him—and the clammy sweat.
I barely managed to walk in my heels. I missed my dead-flower socks.
“Ready?” He straightened his jacket.
Keeping my attention on the building, I nodded—or shook, maybe—my head. “Yeah.” My voice dragged as if it doubted me. “I’m ready.”
A guard at each side held the door open.
Giant black frames were stationed behind them, with wrought iron twisting over into handles.
In my periphery, I saw Laken observe other areas of our event.
What and why, I had no idea, but since this fell more under his expertise, I didn’t ask.
I focused on not snapping an ankle and watching the pretty lights.
And the guards. And their daggers. And noting how many there were…
“I’m ready. Why wouldn’t I be ready? I’m cool, playing it cool,” I replied. Right? This is cool. My dress is cool. I’m definitely not here to steal magical pigs.
A guard shifted approximately two inches closer to us as we reached the door and I reached for Laken’s arm—his biceps. His really hard biceps. Gods, what did he do? Lift elephants during his time away? Under my grip, his body heaved from a smothered chuckle, but I didn’t care at that point.
I’d walked up to a black, probably haunted, mansion guarded to its teeth, with bad intentions of taking their inventory. Their pigs. Pigs! How the fuck does one simply steal a pig?
I didn’t have the answer.
But we stepped through the threshold onto bloodred tiles anyway.
Mother of pearls, I thought; massive didn’t describe its size.
Towering ceilings ascended over us, drawing guests’ attention to the chandeliers hanging down the length of the hall.
A tiny, shattered fragment of one of those could probably fix all of my problems. I clung tight to Laken, listening to chatter and the click of my heels on the floor, and we followed the painted-black brick walls.
I, for once, prayed to see my hellblazers again. To any Gods listening, above or below, old and new: if you allow me to survive the night, I promise to quit threatening to eat my chickens. That should do it.