Chapter 23
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
“ T hat was some fight the other night, Butcher.”
Ronin tried not to flinch as the Deathstalker female seated next to him wrapped a hand around his forearm. On his other side, he swore he felt Mireille tense, though she didn’t break her conversation with Nero.
The Beastrunner had made a beeline for her as soon as the guests had retired to the parlors after dessert. Nero had been chewing her ear off for the entire hour they’d been here. Ronin hadn’t bothered to listen in—none of Nero’s inane chatter had any relevance to their case.
Ronin had no idea why Mireille was humoring him—maybe out of some newly-found font of patience? Or maybe she was gleaning something from the conversation that Ronin couldn’t discern.
He probably should have gotten up earlier, done his part to mingle, but he was afraid of what he might do if he left Mireille’s side. A gleaming row of Delirium bottles beckoned from the credenza. But he was determined to keep his promise to her tonight. To not indulge his addiction. To keep his mind clear.
Plus, he was waiting for the rest of the guests to retire. He’d noticed something about this room during their arrival tour and wanted to scope it out with Mireille.
“You were there?” he said to the Deathstalker as she ran her sharp, purple fingernails along his tattoos.
The female nodded, her sleek sable bob shining beneath the crystal chandelier. “For one heart-stopping moment, we were sure you were going to kill Callum Maloney. Pity you didn’t.”
Ronin snickered softly. “Not a fan?”
Her red lips parted into a predatory smile. “We have been hoping for his defeat ever since he took down the champion of Nephes.”
“Are you from Nephes?” Ronin remembered that the male currently drooling all over his partner was from a town in Akti. As were most of the guests Ronin had spoken with over the past few days.
“No. But we did spend a rather long and enjoyable weekend with their former champion,” the Deathstalker purred, raking her serpentine eyes over Ronin’s torso. “We’re originally from a town in what’s currently the Desolation. It was destroyed during the war, so we left. Moved up here to Kheimos.”
Something hot and achy tore through his chest at her casual mention of the war, bringing to the surface his own memories. Without the numbing effect of the Delirium, his wolf thrashed against his ribs.
As if she sensed his discomfort, Mireille wrapped her fingers around the hand he’d left on the settee between them. His wolf calmed, the guilt and regret dissipating. He felt a surge of gratitude for his friend before refocusing on the Deathstalker female.
“Quite a different climate up here,” he said. “Do you miss the heat?”
Her forked tongue flicked out to graze his cheek. “We find there are plenty of other ways to generate heat in the Northern Territories.” Her eyes flicked to Mireille. “If you and your lover are interested… Have you ever tried venom-play?” She licked one of her fangs.
He fought to suppress a laugh as his wolf shuddered within him. Absolutely not .
“A generous offer,” he said out loud, “but I think we’ll pass for tonight.”
She leaned back, disappointment dulling her pale green eyes, and shrugged. “Don’t knock it until you’ve tried it. Enjoy the rest of your evening, Butcher.”
She slunk off the settee and exited the parlor. Probably in search of another willing victim.
A few of the other guests followed her out. If Ronin had to guess, it was approaching midnight. He wondered if Otto had left for Listhima yet. Ronin suspected he had—their host hadn’t shown up downstairs after their private dinner.
“Nero!” A high-pitched voice rang out from the parlor entrance, where a thin, severe-looking Beastrunner female with curly brown hair was stalking toward the settee.
Nero shot to his feet, jostling Mireille into Ronin. He hooked an arm around her shoulder, his fingers lingering on her bare skin.
“Ce-cecelia!” Nero stuttered, darting his eyes between his mate and Mireille. “I’ve been looking everywhere for you.”
Cecelia placed a hand on her hip, reaching out the other for her wayward mate and throwing a sharp look at Mireille. “Looking real hard, it seems.”
Nero took his mate’s hand, muttering apologies. He threw one last, wistful glance toward Mireille as Cecelia dragged him from the parlor.
Ronin laughed as they exited. “Nero better be careful. If Otto catches him fawning over you…”
“I think his mate might be more of a danger to him than our host,” Mireille smirked.
Ronin swiveled his gaze around the parlor. There was one last couple lingering in the corner, a Beastrunner female perched in the lap of a Deathstalker male, his hand roving over her thigh, heads bowed in quiet conversation.
“The guests you’ve been speaking with,” he whispered, “which territories are they from?”
Mireille didn’t even ask why he’d asked, seemed to catch the direction of his thoughts. “They’re all from Akti. Why?”
“That Deathstalker female I was just speaking with… she’s from the Desolation. Doesn’t fit the pattern.”
Mireille grunted. “She looked like she wanted to suck you dry. And not your blood.”
Ronin smirked. “Jealous, Valette? I’m surprised you even noticed, since you were so tied up with Nero.”
She waved him off. “Anyway, the Desolation borders Akti. It could still fit.”
“Do you think the locations signify something?”
Mireille brushed her hair off her shoulder, wafting her sweet, musky scent over him. His wolf took a deep whiff, sighing contentedly. “I’m sure they do. I just don’t know what yet. We could probably figure it out if we could get into Otto’s office.” She released a frustrated grumble.
“The servants have access to the room.”
She perked up. “What? How do you know that?”
“Took a little surveillance tour earlier while you were napping.” He winked. “I saw one of the servants press his palm to that pad outside the door. That short, older man with the silver hair who distributes the breakfast trays.”
“That’s excellent news,” she grinned. “I think I know how we can get in there.”
“Veiling potion?”
Mireille shook her head. “No, the veiling potion only affects one’s outward appearance and scent. It couldn’t recreate his essence. I have something else in mind.” She tapped at her lip. He felt a tiny stab of disappointment that the color he’d put there earlier had worn off. “Though it will take a full day to produce. Did you bring those Lethaphyll cigarettes Mattias gave you?”
Ronin nodded, but didn’t press further as the couple in the corner finally left the parlor. As their footsteps faded down the hall, he pulled Mireille from the settee.
“Now that we’re alone, I want to show you something.”
She glanced playfully at his lap, cocking a sleek eyebrow. High Gods, he couldn’t get enough of mischievous Mireille.
“Not that, filthy little she-wolf.” He pinched her nose, then padded to the side wall, running his hands along the trim. “I noticed a door here when we first arrived. A servant dragged that blond man through it. Thought it might be useful for us to see where it leads.”
“Good thinking.” Mireille stepped up beside him, her gold gown rustling across the carpet, and began searching as well.
He pressed the wall and a soft click sounded as a portion opened, revealing a white stone corridor lined with dim sconces.
Mireille poked her head through, then retracted it. “After you, big, scary boyfriend.”
He chuckled and ducked through the small entrance, Mireille on his heels as the door snicked shut behind them.
His wolf perked up, sniffing at the air and whining.
What is it? Ronin asked.
That scent again . It’s far more concentrated in here. Death and…ashes.
Ronin shivered, scenting the smoky tinge on the air. He heard Mireille sniff behind him as well.
“What is that?” she asked, covering her nose. “It smells like burnt hair.”
He swallowed her small hand in his own, his wolf pacing and growling as they crept down the sloping corridor. Their footsteps were far too loud in the dreadful silence.
Ronin paused at the corner, then angled his head around and sucked in a breath.
The vast, empty chamber was built from the same white stone as the exterior of the estate. Evenly spaced columns climbed to the curved ceiling like the rib bones of some gargantuan creature. Rows of stone benches jutted up from the floor on either side of a long aisle leading to an altar.
Diva Carmina’s bare body lay atop it, two strips of cloth draped over her breasts and pelvis and two puncture wounds in her neck. Behind her loomed the strangest fireplace Ronin had ever seen.
The stone was sculpted to look like the skull of a giant serpent, its sharp fangs framing a charred pit.
As they approached the altar, Mireille let out a choked noise. “What a terrible, wasteful end for such a supreme talent. She didn’t deserve this.”
As Ronin approached the snake head, he noted a barrel behind the altar. He removed the lid, and pale blue stones glistened back at him. “Is this…”
Mireille leaned around him, her soft breasts pressing against his back as she cupped his waist. He tried not to let it distract him.
“The anastasium.” She rounded the basket, bending over to examine the facets of the apricot-sized gems.
Footsteps pounded down the hall outside the chamber.
“Fuck.” Ronin snatched Mireille’s hand and rushed down the aisle in search of a place to hide.
At the chamber’s entrance were two dark alcoves, each containing a statue of Deathstalker males who bore a striking resemblance to Otto. His ancestors, perhaps.
Ronin shoved Mireille into the alcove on the left. He nestled in behind, tucking her against his chest and placing his palms against the back of the statue. Her hair tickled his chin and her ass pressed against his thighs, tantalizingly close to his cock. He fought an urge to pull her closer.
Better cover her mouth , his wolf added. Unhelpfully. She might scream if she gets frightened.
She’s not that kind of female , Ronin hissed back.
Still, put your hand there anyway. We want to know what her lips feel like.
Ronin’s height afforded him a clear view of the altar around the statue’s head. Two human servants—a taller man with shoulder-length, coffee-colored hair and that same older man with the silver hair who Ronin had seen outside Otto’s office earlier—approached the diva’s body. The tall man cradled the diva’s shoulders while the other grabbed her ankles, and they maneuvered her onto the floor within the snake’s mouth. The tall man plucked an anastasium stone from the barrel and placed it over one of the diva’s eyes, while the older man traced a finger along a triangle etched into the wall beside the fire place.
Thunderous grinding filled the chamber as the snake’s throat opened, two stone slabs parting to reveal a wall of flame. Undulating swirls of red, orange, yellow and blue oozed across the floor to caress and blister the diva’s body.
Ronin’s gorge rose at the unmistakable scent of burning flesh and hair, and Mireille covered her mouth, emitting a small yelp. She flattened herself against Ronin, who wrapped an arm around her waist.
See? his wolf piped up. Screamer.
Ronin shook him off as he watched the fire devour the diva’s body.
The tall man traced the triangle on the wall again, and the flames sucked back into themselves as the stone slabs rumbled closed.
There was no trace of the diva left in the fireplace. Just a pile of ash topped with an anastasium stone, which was now emanating an internal glow.
The silver-haired man hoisted a shovel from a rack next to the fireplace to fish it out.
The other approached with a small, felt-lined box, and his partner placed the stone inside, then flicked the lid shut.
Ronin held his breath, felt Mireille do the same, both afraid to let out a single sound lest the two men discover their hiding place.
He only released it once their footsteps had faded, and he and Mireille crawled out from behind the statue.
“What happened ?” she asked. “I couldn’t see anything, only smell…”
Ronin explained the triangle symbol, the burning, the glowing anastasium stone. “Does any of it sound familiar to you?”
“No…” She trailed off, but Ronin could practically hear the gears in her head turning. “But if the stone was glowing after, do you think the fire is what activated it? Is fire the source of Stygios’s power?”
Ronin scratched at his cheek. “Seems too obvious. Wouldn’t someone have figured that out by now?”
She shrugged, then yawned against the back of her hand.
“We’ll do some more exploring tomorrow, ” he said. Mireille shot him a sharp look, about to protest. “On clear, sleep-fueled heads.”
The corner of her lip twitched, as if she were about to argue, but to Ronin’s surprise, she merely nodded as she let him lead her out of the chamber.
As they reached the hidden door to the parlor, voices echoed from the other end of the stone corridor and Mireille shot him a panicked look.
He pulled her into the empty parlor as the voices grew closer. Too close. They wouldn’t make it out of the room in time.
Ronin crowded Mireille against the wall and cupped his hands beneath the base of her skull, threading his fingers through her hair and tilting her face up.
As he inched his lips dangerously close to hers, his whisper was steady despite the rapid acceleration of his heartbeat.
“Be a good girl and play along.”
Then his lips met hers and the world melted away.