Chapter 20
Chapter
Twenty
~ Princess Blake ~
“ S oooo is someone going to explain what happened?” Shade asks as we walk from the Bleeding Hearts club. She lands on my shoulder, and my mates and I dart down the alleyway, hiding behind a dumpster. “The moment you entered the club, I couldn’t connect with any of you! I was practically pulling my feathers out with worry.”
Reaching up, I stroke Shade’s wings trying to calm her. “The demons are plotting to take the throne,” I reply bluntly. “No surprise there.”
“Ivar plans to become king,” Dante explains as he exits the club after us. I wave him over, and he moves quickly to our position. “Despite the incredible fact the demon has never cared for anyone but himself,” my demon mate adds.
“He’s organizing an assassin to take Dad out,” I say, scowling at the thought. Dad might be merciless but he’s fair, and he’s still the king. Gloria was right, King Dalton has maintained relative peace in our realm, aside from the occasional clan war. If Ivar were to sit on the throne, something tells me Seral would see much more bloodshed.
“Okay, so we kill Ivar before he contracts the assassin,” Shade suggests. “Problem solved, right?”
I frown. “I thought of that too, but I get the feeling there was something Ivar wasn’t willing to tell the others. Something tells me this goes deeper than simply hiring an assassin.”
Dante’s expression grows thoughtful. “There aren’t many who would be brave enough to try and assassinate King Dalton. And if they tried a Drozac assassin last time, who do you think he’d use now?”
At the mention of a Drozac assassin, Alaric’s body tightens, and I rest my hand on his arm. “He’ll pay for what he did to your brother,” I assure him.
“Hold on. Hold on. Ivar killed Alaric’s brother?” Shade squawks.
“It’s a long story,” I sigh. “Right now, we need to figure out what Ivar is up to. That demon is hiding something.”
The door to the back of the club opens as a few of the last clan members exit the club, climbing into their cars and leaving the alleyway.
“I picked up on that, too,” Prince Callan agrees.
“You want us to follow him, my mate?” Mason asks.
“It all just doesn’t sit right,” I say. “I’ve never seen Ivar look so confident.”
Nate’s brows lower. “You think Ivar is plannin’ on contractin’ a witch assassin?”
I shake my head. “I don’t know, but I can’t help but feel like we’re still missing a big piece of this puzzle.”
“It could be days before Ivar makes contact with the assassin,” Dante points out.
“No,” Alaric growls . “The decision has been made. He’ll make contact and soon, before any of the clan leaders have a chance to second-guess their support of him.”
A long black car stops at the end of the alleyway, and the driver keeps the engine on. “That’s Ivar’s ride,” Dante points out. “I recognize his driver.”
“Okay, well we need to—” My words die off as I turn and see Nate further down the alleyway. His elbow is wrapped in strips of his clothing, and he smashes the driver window of a beaten-up black van before jumping into the vehicle. In a matter of seconds, he has jump-started the van and is driving slowly toward us. He stops opposite us and winks at me. “Want a ride, gorgeous?”
I grin.
“I thought these are metal death traps?” Mason asks with a confused expression, reciting my words from earlier when we’d first been discussing if we should take Noah’s car.
All four of us turn to look at him. “It is,” I say.
Mason looks taken aback. “And you wish to enter it, my mate?”
“Okay, I might be exaggerating slightly. It’s a contraption on wheels that can get us places faster. One of the many inventions we’ve copied from the human realm,” I explain.
Mason still looks confused. “So…it does not kill anyone?”
“Not demons, anyway,” Dante answers, smiling.
Before Mason can ask more questions, Nate beckons us. “Let’s keep this movin’, shall we?”
We start piling into the van with Dante taking the front seat next to Nate, and the rest of us climbing in the back. Thankfully, the vehicle is empty, but it rocks when Alaric hops up, the back wheels lowering at his weight. Mason is the last of us to enter, and he peers at me warily.
I hold out my hand. “It’ll be fine,” I tell him. “Trust me.”
His eyes spark at my last words, and he doesn’t hesitate to place his hand in mine. “Always, my mate,” he replies, and my heart warms as I help him into the van.
“Let’s see if he still feels that way when the car starts moving,” Shade comments as Mason settles down on one of the long leather seats lining the sides of the van. “Maybe you should get him to sit near a window.”
“He’ll be fine,” I send back to her, though Mason is staring at me.
“Why the window?” he asks.
“It’s nothing,” I assure him, shutting the back doors of the van.
Nate twists his neck, checking the back. “All right, if you guys are ready.” He rubs his hands up and down the steering wheel. Just as he’s about to pull away from the gutter he curses.
I jerk my head up. “What is it?”
“Ivar just exited the club,” Dante explains, waving at someone through the front window. “He’s spotted us.”
“Fuck.” I duck down, carefully peeking through the front windshield. Ivar enters his car, and seconds later, the black car starts down the street and disappears from view.
“Not to worry,” Dante says. “This simply means we’ll need to be more discreet.”
“Discreet? What are you—” I don’t finish. Tingles race over me followed by an icy sensation, and then we all…vanish.
A rush of air leaves me, and Prince Callan reaches out, pulling me onto his lap. I can’t see the archangel, but his scent swirls around me, his hands tightening on my body. The van purrs beneath our feet, but all I can see is the alleyway and the street below us.
“Now, this is fuckin’ strange,” Nate comments from the driver’s seat, but he doesn’t waste time. He speeds away from the alleyway, moving in the direction we saw Ivar leave. In no time at all, we’ve spotted Ivar’s car up ahead, and Nate stays a short distance behind him.
“Just remember, we might no longer be visible, but we can still be heard, so we’ll need to maintain our distance,” Dante warns.
“You know this means you’ve shattered your disguise,” I remind Dante. The moment he used his magic, the illusion Luna placed on him would have broken.
“And thank goodness for that,” Dante replies lightly. “It was rather unsettling having Noah’s face.”
No one says anything for a while after that as Nate maneuvers the streets, following Ivar’s ride. I squirm on Prince Callan’s lap, struggling to sit still. My fingers twitch, and I can’t stop theorizing about Ivar’s plans.
Prince Callan’s hands tighten on me, stopping me from squirming.
“What are you doing?” I hiss.
His lips brush by my face. “You can’t do anything about Ivar now, but I can do something to make you more comfortable my Ahalian Touizda.”
“I don’t want to be comfortable. I want to make him bleed until he spills the rest of his plans,” I grumble, but then I feel one of the archangel’s hands sliding up my dress. My heartbeat quickens. My mates drove me to the edge so many times in the club that I’m still wound tight.
“We need to focus,” I tell him. “Ivar could stop at any moment.”
“And you need release, my mate,” Prince Callan replies matter-of-factly. Using his fingers, he pushes my panties to the side, and then his fingers are sliding up and down my center. I bite my lip, holding in my gasp as his touch makes me shudder. I’m still so sensitive. So ready that it hurts.
Sliding his fingers down, Prince Callan pushes them into me, and I pant, spreading my legs wider. I feel him hard beneath me, but he makes no move to pull out his cock. He pushes two fingers in and out of me moving torturously slow until I’m shaking in his hold.
“Please,” I beg, my chest tight. “Callan.”
He moves his fingers faster, fucking them into me, and when he reaches around with his other hand, rubbing my clit, I shatter in his hold, the orgasm crashing through me. I bite my lip hard, tasting blood, and Prince Callan keeps moving his fingers, making the pleasure last.
When I stop shuddering, I sag against the archangel, and he kisses my cheek. “Better?”
“It’s a good start,” I say with a grin.
“Maybe for you guys, but what about the fuckin’ rest of us?” Nate grumbles. “This is torture. Someone else drive.”
Dante chuckles. “This is the last time I go for the front seat.”
“At least you guys are all getting some,” Shade says so quietly in my head I almost miss it.
“Hold on, does Shade here not have a mate?” Nate questions, clearly having heard her as well.
“What? Pshh,” Shade replies. “What I said was, whoa, this is trippy.”
“Trippy?” Alaric asks, confused.
“Yeah,” she says as the street goes by beneath us. “It’s like we’re flying in this thing. Makes me feel like I’m on an invisible rollercoaster.”
“Rollercoaster?” Alaric asks.
Shade sighs.
“It’s an amusement ride they have in the human realm,” I explain. “Something you ride for fun.” Alaric doesn’t respond, and I doubt he gets it. Personally, I’ve never been on a rollercoaster, and considering I can fly, I’ve never seen the appeal.
Nate follows Ivar’s car around another corner, and when the van straightens again there’s a slight hacking sound coming from Mason’s direction.
“Told you, he needed the window,” Shade points out. “He needs the fresh air.”
Crap. “Mason, are you all right?”
“Vomit on me, and you’ll regret it,” Alaric growls. It’s funny, I always thought the assassin was just grumpy because of me, but it turns out it’s simply in his nature. I’m not even sad about it, either.
“I’m just… I think I’ve been poisoned, my mate,” Mason replies, still making gagging sounds from the other side of the van.
I move away from Prince Callan and slowly step toward where I remember Mason being. I think I’m almost there when Nate turns another corner. Instinctively, I go to flare out my wings and correct my balance, but then I remember I don’t have them. Before I topple, two large, strong hands are holding me in place. Alaric.
The van straightens again, and I pat the assassin’s hand. “Thanks,” I tell him. He grunts and releases me, and I take the final steps toward Mason with my hands out.
Nate slows the van abruptly and I fall forward, my fingers jabbing into something mushy. Mason curses, and I jerk back. “Fuck, I just touched something sticky. Please tell me that wasn’t your nose.” There’s moist residue on my finger, and I make a face as I wipe it on my dress. “I swear if it’s a booger I might just start gagging, too.”
“Only my eye, my mate,” Mason replies, no doubt cradling his injured eye.
“Oh, good,” I reply, and I reach out again, my hands sliding down Mason’s arms. Carefully, I sit down beside him, and I almost regret my decision when my mate starts dry heaving again.
“Focus on the buildings outside,” I tell him. “You’re not poisoned. Your body is simply confused. Because we’re moving and yet you’re not walking, your body is acting like you’re poisoned.”
“It’s called motion sickness,” Shade adds sympathetically. “It’s pretty common unfortunately.”
“Then why aren’t any of you having the same reaction?” Mason asks.
Using one hand, I rub his broad back soothingly. “Many grow out of it as they get older. Some are luckier than others.”
Mason takes a few more gasping breaths, and he lifts his head, staring out the front window. Following his gaze, I peer at the buildings soaring past us—tall structures of black stone, with narrow arched windows and gray tiles covering the rooftops like dragon scales. The streets are mostly bare, the city flooded with light, and it’s quiet, with most of the demons likely in their beds.
A cawing noise draws my attention, and I lift my gaze as a crow flies overhead, soaring past our vehicle.
“Your crows miss you,” Shade says softly in my mind.
I stay silent as the memory of the birds in Toralyn resurfaces, and I can feel it again. Their ashes. The thought makes my chest ache.
Mason takes my hand in his. “What happened to the birds in the angel realm wasn’t your fault, my mate. The burden of guilt is heavy to carry, and not one you deserve.”
When I still don’t answer, we sit in silence.
It’s not like Toralyn was the first time for me to lose a bird. That’s the thing with battle. There are always losses, and I don’t command the birds. I make a request. I ask them to come, and they trust me enough to follow. But to lose so many… It still bothers me.
Mason’s breathing is even now as he stares out the window, and he speaks up again. “It is beautiful, you know. Your city.”
“It’s not mine,” I say softly, though the statement feels false.
“Oh, screw that,” Shade counters. “Whether you become queen or not, this is your city, Blake. No one knows this place better than you.”
She’s right, of course. Because of my crows, I’ve seen parts of this city that I never would have seen otherwise. I’ve been training to rule my whole life, but now that Dad’s wanting to step down, now that the clans are unsettled and the witches are mobilizing, everything feels wrong. Once I had my mates, everything was supposed to slot into place, but I still can’t help but wonder if we’ll be enough.
“Let’s just focus on discovering Ivar’s assassin,” I reply, my voice devoid of emotion.
No one says anything else for a long while as we follow Ivar through the city, to one of the outer districts. The road changes, the dark stones changing to compact earth, and the scent of the sea drifts through Nate’s smashed window as we near the harbor. I’m lost in thought when the van curves, and Nate speaks up. “Ivar is stopping up ahead. Looks like some kind of warehouse.”
I jerk my head up as Ivar’s car is parked out the front of an abandoned warehouse, and the clan leader exits the vehicle along with three of his guards.
I scan the building. At least half of the frosted glass windows are broken, and it looks almost the same as the last time I saw it years ago. Almost, because unlike last time, there are now numerous guards patrolling the perimeter.
Nate stops the van behind a wall of old machinery and scrap metal that’s been stacked a few yards from one side of the building, and we all pop back into view. I roll my shoulders as tingles race through me, and the walls of the van appear around us again.
“Can we not do that again anytime soon?” Shade says, fluttering her wings. “It makes me feel all kinds of weird.”
Dante opens the back doors of the van, and we all file out.
Nate cracks his neck and stretches his arms. “So, are we allowed to use our powers now?” Moving quietly, he peers around a broken-down truck, scouring the warehouse. “That’s still some distance to cover.”
“We stay in our disguises for now,” I tell him. “Only change if you need to.”
“I count at least seven guards,” Prince Callan says, standing beside Nate.
“Ten,” Alaric replies, towering over the other two and pointing to three more guards stalking the roof.
“We don’t want to spook Ivar until we get the information we need,” I remind them.
“So how do we get in without being noticed?” Mason comments.
“That door,” Alaric says, pointing to the right side of the building. “There’s only a single guard positioned there.”
“ I saw that too,” I reply. “That door leads to an old underground storage room. That’s our way in. Shade, I need you to stay out here and let us know if any other unexpected visitors arrive.”
“Eye-eye cap’n,” she replies, flapping from my shoulder and perching on the roof of a rusted forklift that’s resting on its side.
“It also might be better if you don’t get spotted just yet,” I tell Dante.
He grins, and then he winks out of sight. “Not a problem, princess.”
It wouldn’t be the first time I envied his power, but I grin when an invisible Dante squeezes my ass. “Show off,” I mutter.
“You know, if we all hold hands, we could simply stroll over there,” Dante chuckles.
“Oh my god, please tell me you’re all about to hold hands and do a hero walk to the warehouse,” Shade squawks in our heads.
“He-ro walk?” Mason mutters, confused.
Alaric frowns, crossing his arms. “Does the bird always speak nonsense?”
Shade squawks, flapping her wings to show her agitation. “It’s not nonsense. If you’re all touching Dante, he can make you invisible.”
Nate groans and rubs the back of his neck. “Let us have some dignity will ya. It’s not that far.”
I grin. “I don’t think we need to resort to hand holding just yet.” Truthfully, the idea doesn’t bother me, but something tells me Alaric isn’t keen.
Leaving Shade where she is, we move closer to the warehouse, darting out quickly in intervals and ducking behind the discarded machinery until we’ve stopped behind a pile of scrap metal that’s the closest cover to the door of the warehouse.
“I call dibs,” Nate says, eyeing the guard at the door. He cracks his knuckles, preparing to shoot out, but before the shifter has even left the cover, the guard’s head jerks like he’s been hit, and the demon guard is lowered to the ground.
“Well, what are you waiting for?” Dante drawls in our minds, and the door opens.
Nate’s eyes bulge. “I fuckin’ called dibs.”
I pat the shifter on the shoulder sympathetically. “Next time, buddy.” Then I dart out, moving to the open door. The others follow and we creep inside, entering the darkness of the storage room.