49. Nolan
NOLAN
T here is a commonality in crime, regardless of demographic and type.
White-collar criminals are often seen as smarter—more socially competent.
Whereas blue-collar crimes are often referred to as street crimes.
It’s the difference between tax fraud and murder.
Those of the lower classes are seen as more violent and often get harder sentences because of it.
Greed isn’t seen as violent. It is.
Greed is the thing that steals and eats away at an entire populace.
It’s done little by little—taking away necessities here, retracting funding there.
A society that cannot take care of itself will eventually devolve and yet, those on their pedestals looking down curl their lips at us and call us the animals.
In the end, we are all animals. It doesn’t matter how well you dress a wolf, he still has his claws and fangs. One wrong move and blood will rain.
“Remember.” Viks leans close as we enter the double doors with our masks in place. “No scenes. Get in, find her, get out.”
“Our families?” I ask, because I have to. Juliet left us to protect them as well as us, and we can’t take her back without a plan to keep them safe.
“I’ve got eyes on everyone,” Viks assures me. “They’re being guarded.”
The invitation sits in my pocket like an anvil, weighing me down as I nod my thanks and understanding to the man.
Viks moves away, pausing by Lex’s side and saying something that has Lex stiffening his shoulders but agreeing with tightly clenched teeth.
Then, he’s gone, Viks’ big body disappearing through the throng of people at the end of the candelabra corridor.
I reach up and adjust the mask that clings to my face.
A woman nearby turns and blanches at the sight of the bone white skull mask with the blackened eye sockets.
Just to ensure that no one will feel comfortable enough to approach, I’ve added a bit of fake stitching in makeup across the exposed lower half of my face, making it appear as if my mouth is sewn shut around black lips.
At my side, Gio appears. His own mask is one that covers the lower half of his face in the mimicry of an animal’s open jaw, complete with razor-tipped teeth coated in red—as if he’s just taken a vicious bite out of a prey’s flesh.
“The rooms of the hotel are accessed through the elevators,” he says.
“We need to find out how to get a key first.”
I shake my head. “No, I think we already have it.”
“What?” Gio’s head turns in my direction. “I didn’t get a key with the invite.”
“We only need one,” I assure him, moving steadily forward through the crowd.
The masquerade is straight out of a movie—complete with glittering lights, an orchestra stringing along music that sounds old, but recognizable in modern twists.
Women and men alike are dressed as a cacophony of animals and historical figures from Marie Antoinette to foxes and cats.
We three are the only ones adorned as monsters—skeletons and bloodied beasts.
“I don’t see her or Calloway anywhere,” Lex says as he pauses at my opposite shoulder, his own eyes scanning the ballroom through the slits of black in his own mask.
Of the three of us, his is quite possibly the most disturbing and yet, it is also the most adequate.
Dressed in a black-on-black suit, the only color on him are the flecks of iridescent blue smattered amongst the hard shell of a mask that, for all intents and purposes, looks like the casing of two actual scorpions.
Black and shiny save for the dots of blue, the sides curl into his hair, shaped like the sharp edge of each scorpion’s venomous tail.
Several women shuffle out of our path, fanning themselves and their heaving tits as they blink up at us as we make our way around the edge of the dance floor.
“They’ll be in masks too,” I remind Lex. “Look for her hair.”
“He might have made her change it,” Gio points out.
“The last sighting of her was last weekend,” Lex says. “Her hair was still blue then.”
I only listen dimly to their debate as I examine each point in the room. Finally, I see her—front and center. My legs stop and the guys halt behind me, their conversation silencing as they, too, spot our prey.
Juliet’s dressed in a wickedly sinful gown of black and red mesh.
Her hair, that same ocean blue as I recall, is piled atop her head and stuck together with twin silver sticks that are each adorned with some jewel or other.
Her mask… if I wasn’t already sure it was her because of her hair, then I would know it by that mask.
No other woman here would understand us so fully.
The creeping skeletal hand that’s attached to the simple black lace mesh of her mask is the biggest adornment, stretching across one half of her face, as if someone is pulling her back, bending her in half for a devil’s kiss.
My insides burn as I watch her in the arms of a man that practically screams wealth and power.
Red-haired, but young and broad-shouldered, the stranger spins her in a circle, his lips turned up as he laughs and talks to her. Juliet dances with him, appearing every bit as used to this kind of environment as she was with us.
This is where she’s from, remember? an ugly voice pipes up. What makes you think she didn’t mean everything she said? What makes you think she’ll want to come back with you?
I shake off the thoughts and start moving again, Lex and Gio silently following as we move around the edge of the ballroom and towards an open doorway. The invitation is proof that she wants us. She’ll be there soon—and we need to prepare if we’re going to convince her that we can protect her.
“Gio,” I call as we leave the ballroom behind and enter a corridor.
“Yes?”
“Make sure she makes it to the room,” I say.
“You think she’ll get lost?” he asks.
“She was lost the moment she left us,” I tell him honestly, glancing back at him and Lex over my shoulder. “No,” I continue. “I don’t think she’ll get lost because the hounds of hell are ready to lead her back to the right path.”
JULIET
I’m panting and sweating by the time I make it through the garden courtyard in the center of the King Hotel and to the other side. There are fewer people in this area and none around when I reach the servants’ elevator in the exact place that Paris had directed me.
Punching the button for the elevator, I reach up and rip the thin silver pins keeping my hair up.
It falls around my shoulders in a cloud of sweet-smelling shampoo and blue.
The note I’d taken from Paris flutters to the ground at my feet and I bend, retrieving it and unfolding the small square until the letters and numbers inside are revealed.
Room 1196
That’s it. Just a room number, no key. The elevator dings in front of me and the doors slide open to reveal a small room that’s half the size of a normal elevator without the usual adornments and embellishments of gold or mirrored walls that guest elevators would normally have.
I don’t care. I step inside and press the buttons for the right floor, the note gripped tightly in my fist.
Almost there. Almost…
My heart is hammering in my chest so hard that it’s all I can hear when I reach the correct floor and the elevator doors open once more. Before I can step out into the hall, though, a masked man is in front of me.
I jerk back at the sharp fangs protruding from the mask that covers the lower half of his face before I recognize the eyes above it. I freeze.
“Gio?”
He’s on me before I can blink. His hands grip me around my biceps and he rips me free from the elevator, turning and shoving me against the nearest wall.
Warmth and masculine scent invades my nostrils as his big body pushes against me from shoulder to hip.
He dips his head and shadows cascade over the upper half of his exposed face as he presses his forehead against mine.
“ Fuck, Prep Girl, it’s been too fucking long.” His voice is pulled taut like a string about to snap. “I should bend your ass over my lap and spank the shit out of you for all the shit you put us through.”
I breathe him in, closing my eyes as his scent sinks inside of me. My arms drift up as I wrap them around his neck and urge him closer, my breasts smashing against him. “I had my reasons,” I whisper.
He snorts. “Bullshit reasons.”
“Perfectly acceptable reasons,” I argue. “I was protecting you.”
His groan is, at first, one of frustration, but quickly morphs into one of desire as I spread my legs and one of his finds its way between them.
His closeness has my mouth watering. I part my lips and lean into him.
I kiss his throat once, beneath the frighteningly sharp fangs of his mask, before setting my own blunt teeth against his flesh.
One of Gio’s hands goes to the back of my head as he cranes his neck to give me easier access. “Don’t think that distracting me with sex will help you, Prep Girl.”
“Who said I was trying to distract you?” I mumble my question as I shift to the side and bite down on the place right above his tuxedo collar. He grunts and his grip on my skull tightens. He can’t help but nudge me closer. I grin against his flesh and then lick over the mark I’ve made.
“I’ve fucked enough women in my lifetime to know when they’re trying to distract me from something,” he says.
My smile drops immediately and my next bite is harder, fiercer. “ Shit !” His hips jolt against mine. The hard ridge of his erection connects with my belly, rubbing even as he hisses out the curse.
When I release him, I lick my lips. “Don’t talk about other women you’ve fucked when you’ve got me here,” I tell him.
His chuckle is low and vibrating. “Jealous?” he taunts.
“Possessive,” I correct him, lifting my head. My fingertips trail towards the half-moons of my teeth marks. “You’re mine, after all, aren’t you?”
“Fuck yeah, I am.” He breathes the words, his pupils expanding as he gazes down at me. “And we’re here to steal you back.”
“Then… take me, Playboy,” I whisper, licking out and stroking my tongue over his fuller bottom lip. “Right here. Right now.” It’s been too long and I missed him. I wasn’t ever sure I’d get to see them again.
He grits his teeth. “ God—fucking—damn it , Prep Girl.” His head falls back on his shoulders and he groans. All the while his hips can’t seem to stop pressing against me. The movements are light little pushes that mimic the act of sex.
“Unless you want me to take you?” I offer.
He stills and then groans again. “ Fuck. You don’t even know the image that creates.”
I think I can guess, though, and I’m more than willing to make it a reality.
Pressing my hands to the wide expanse of his chest, I smooth them down his front.
Even through the fabric of his suit, the hard ridges of his muscles are obvious.
When I reach the waistband of his black pants where the buttoned dress shirt is tucked in, I grip it between my fingers and slowly, with incredible reserve, pull it up.
His abdomen ripples as he inhales a quick breath, the individual lines of his physique tightening all over.
My lashes flutter against my cheeks as I gaze down at him.
No undershirt for Gio. He’s all naked male flesh as I lift the soft fabric.
All the while, Gio holds himself as still as a statue, his eyes never wavering—watching, craving .