Chapter 60
Iwas sitting in our coves when I came across a line in a war strategy text. “When you have one enemy, you have one enemy, but when you have two enemies, you have one enemy and one distraction.” The poison was delivered by Zem, but it was ordered by the Zos. I’m dressed up as Rajim’s mistress again. I’m going to look through those ledgers, but this time I’ll be looking for something else.
The car rumbles to a stop in a private garage. Small, but spotless.
He opens my door before I can and offers me a red silk mask. “Last part of your outfit.”
Liha would be in fun-having heaven right now. I miss her.
“You’re thinking of her,” he says.
I nod, remembering how fragile she felt in our last duel, and another pang of grief hits me.
“He must be bonded to something fierce for it to be able to drain Liha too.” I put my mask on, and he takes my cue to drop the subject.
“Come on,” he says, tucking his hands inside his pockets.
I follow him to an immaculate red door. No scuffs, no scratches, no wear of any kind. The thumping beat of music is hammering against the other side of it. He reaches for the electronic key code but stops and turns back to me.
“Two rules,” he says. “Mask on at all times.”
“And?”
“And”—his jaw flexes—“it wasn’t my place to tell you what you can and can’t do. If you wish to be with someone. Fine.” He grimaces. “But pay attention to your surroundings at all times, okay?”
I smile and nod. “Okay.”
His eyes narrow, as if he knows my track record with rules, but he punches in the code and the door swings open to a lavish apartment—not a raving dance floor—the loud beat still thumping through every wall. Dae leads me past an untouched bed with a giant mirror on the ceiling above it toward another door with another code.
“Not mine,” he says catching my gaze on the bed and winking. “But I’m not against borrowing.”
I roll my eyes. His shameless flirting that can’t lead to anything is insufferable. He chuckles at whatever expression has landed on my face as he punches another code in. When the door opens, a heady wave of perfumes, sounds, and red hues hit my senses. Red velvet benches, red statues of naked women, and black abstract paintings against gray walls.
“We have to find Jasper. He’s been running extra errands for me so he might be away.” He stops and turns to me. “You”ll have to pretend you’re my new dancer, so everyone knows to respect you. Can you do that?”
I press my palm to his chest, my mouth going dry when his muscles curve under my hand.
“Like this?” Pressing my body up to his, I roll my hips against him in sync with the music, running my hands down, down, down his firm abdomen.
When I look up, his eyes are burning behind his mask.
He slowly dips his lips to my ear and whispers, “Yes, like that.”
He slides his arm around my waist and tugs me toward the loud music.
Women—all dressed in red—dance on mini stages throughout the room. Other dancers are sitting on laps, tugging collars, and whispering in ears.
“So, you do own a whorehouse.”
His hand tightens around me, pulling me closer. It only intensifies the coiling sensation that began as soon as I touched his chest. “I’m only pretending to own one.”
Every surface is gleaming. Outfits are seductive and expensive; gems sewn in, exotic feathers, intricate stitching. The music is sexy and demanding, but even it has class.
As soon as we reach the edge of the growing crowd, men dressed in dark red shirts like Dagen fall in beside us. He tightens his grip around my waist, his thumb brushing an open part of my outfit, against my skin.
The men tail us to a reserved table near the biggest stage.
“Jasper,” Dagen snaps at the men in a tone I don’t recognize. “Where is he?”
“Gone,” one bouncer says.
“Gone where?”
“He said he had business.”
Dagen sits at a table and gently guides me down onto his lap. His movements are suave, but dripping with kingly power, so I match it. His nose dips toward my neck, his breath leaving chills as he whispers, “I’m trying not to notice how every set of eyes keep finding you.”
One wealthy business owner in a black suit winks at me as a drink is delivered to his table.
Dagen sends half of the bouncers away and asks the two remaining men, “When did he leave?”
“He left this afternoon,” the leaner one says in a deep voice. “He didn’t say where he was going or when he’d be back.”
The thicker one narrows his eyes. “Seems like a lot of privileged information is passing between you and him, lately. Come to think of it, I haven’t seen much of you or him.”
Dagen lays a kiss below my ear, and my skin comes alive.
“That’s Garret,” he whispers. “I know I said you can do what you want, but stay the fuck away from him.”
His breathing becomes shallow as he lingers there, his lips at my ear.
“Lift your arms,” he says.
I lift them over my head. Dagen trails a finger from my elbow down to my waist, then rests his hand on my thigh.
“I’ve been recruiting more talent,” he says to Garret.
“It’s taken you three days to recruit one dancer?” Garret says, but swallows when his eyes crawl over me.
Dagen smiles against my ear. “This one is special.”
Garret flares his nostrils. “So, you are allowed to touch the girls, but I’m not?”
Dae turns to ice beneath me. “I told you. You must ask their permission, and they must say yes. But after last week, maybe you need a demonstration.” He turns to me, removing his hands and holding them up. “Can I touch your thigh, miss?”
“Yes,” I say over the music.
Dagen runs his hand along my thigh, leaving cold fire in his wake. His fingers stop at my hip.
“Can I touch your waist?” he says, his eyes trained on Garret like two gun barrels ready to fire at the hint of provocation.
“Yes,” I breathe.
Both his hands lay on my hips and trail upward, brushing over open skin as they go. Heat floods my torso, and I can’t help the writhe in my hips as he goes.
His whisper is a rasp in my ear. “Let’s show him what no means.”
“Can I touch your breasts?” His tone is still cold and authoritative.
I lace my fingers through his and guide his hands up to my hard, swelling breasts. “Yes,” I say.
He goes rigid beneath me, which only throttles my desires into overdrive. “You said I could be with whoever I wanted.”
His breath hitches. “Cruel little beast.”
The taller bouncer clears his throat and nods toward the far wall where a beautiful redheaded dancer beckons Dagen with her hand, curling her fingers in a come-hither sort of way.
Garret shoves away from the table with a growl and stalks off.
“Shit,” Dagen says, gently removing me from his lap. “I’ll be right back.” He glances at the remaining bouncer then back at me, a pained look flashes as if trying to decide something, but sighs, straightens his cuffs and says, “Take care of her. Understood?”
The bouncer nods, pulls out a chair and sits, folding his arms.
Dagen peers over at the redhead across the busy room then at me and says, “I’ll be quick. Surroundings, remember?”
I nod, my eyes trained on the half-naked goddess waiting for him.
He takes off through the crowd toward her. When he reaches her, she takes his arm then leads him down the hall, out of view.
Dagen isn’t gone more than two minutes before another gorgeous dancer, a brunette, coos toward our table, “Liam.”
The bouncer cranes his neck to find the girl behind him. His entire demeanor softens. She drapes her arms around his neck from behind and smiles down at him.
“Are you going to introduce me to your new friend?”
“New dancer,” he says.
She dips to his ear, whispering something that makes his lip twitch upward. Then, she rounds his chair and sits on his lap.
She sizes me up. “New dancer? Or Red’s new plaything?”
Liam shrugs. “He just disappeared with Helina again, so who knows.”
“Helina?” It’s out of my mouth before I can stop it.
The dancer’s grin turns feline. “Oh, he has favorites. Always has. Helina has outlasted them all, though. He sneaks off with her every chance he gets.”
Red, hot jealousy clutches some soft part inside me.
“Don’t worry,” she says. “With those eyes and that body, you’ll do just fine here. Who knows, maybe you’ll dethrone Helina.” She turns to Liam and whispers something that makes him squirm.
“I can’t.” He clears his voice and regains his stoic composure. “Red told me to watch her.”
The dancer frowns.
“I’ll watch her,” Garret says, emerging from the grinding crowd with two glasses of dark liquid. Liam hesitates, but when the dancer tugs on his collar he stands up.
Liam narrows his eyes at Garret. “I don’t think—”
Garret nods in the direction Dae left. “Red sent me to take over.” He points at the dancer with one of his full cups. “He said you’d be useless as soon as your girlfriend’s shift ended.” He takes a drink from his glass before stamping it down on the marble tabletop. “So, here I am.”
I don’t miss the way his eyes creep over me when he says, “I’ll take care of her.”
Liam purses his lips before forfeiting. He follows his girlfriend down the same hall Dagen disappeared with Helina.
Irrational anger sweeps throughout me and my entire body tenses until my teeth hurt from clenching so hard.
I really am a stupid, gullible celibate.
Dagen is Zarr. I should’ve known he is with other women. I mean, I have eyes.
My rage only intensifies when I realize I have no right to be mad. But I am fucking mad.
Garret pushes one of the glasses toward me. “So,” he says, taking the seat closest to mine and scooting it closer. “Are you going to let me touch those thighs?”
“No.” I shove the glass back even though I’m thirsty. “I don’t drink spirits.”
He shrugs. “It’s juice. Dancers aren’t allowed spirits on shift.”
He tilts his blond waves toward me, his eyes on my exposed legs. “What if I say please?”
“Get lost. The answer is no, and I don’t need a babysitter.” I reach for the juice and take a long drink, hoping he’ll get the point that I don’t want to talk. If I’m lucky, he’ll try something, and I’ll get to show him exactly why I don’t need a babysitter.
He grins. “What if I do all the work?”
I open my mouth to tell him no—again—but my tongue feels numb. Really numb.
He drapes an arm over the back of the empty chair beside him, still smiling. “I don’t hear a no.”
“What kind of juice is this?” Did I really drink the whole glass?
“The kind that makes everything consensual.”
I jolt up from my chair and lunge toward him, fist curled for maximum tooth breakage, but my arm misses by a foot.
“Whoa, blondie. I took you as a wild one. Good thing I doubled the dose.”
I swing again, but my feet are not on the same page as the rest of me. When they rubberize, he catches me against him. My fingers dig into his arms as big hands shackle around my upper arms, holding me there, my body failing to move on its own.
He rambles for a minute, saying something about my ass, but his words start to blend until his outline blurs in my vision as he sweeps me off my feet.
“I don’t mind doing all the work,” he says, his voice is watery, slipping and sliding through my ears. “Come on,” he whispers. “I know a more private place.”
I open my mouth to object again, but nothing comes out. I can’t form words, can’t see straight, can’t distinguish what’s real and what’s not, as colors and shapes dance around me. Then suddenly, I’m somewhere dark, my back on something soft.
A warm heavy weight climbs on top of me, his face going in and out of focus. Hands tear at my outfit.
Something pops open. I swing my arm for his jaw, but my arm is stuck under something. I look over to it, but nothing is holding it. I swing again, but the only movement I get is a twitch of my fingers.
A nip comes at my lips.
Gold feathers in, like warm, delicate rivers flowing toward me. It brushes my fingertips, and I will it away, but it doesn”t leave. A tendril wraps around my finger, full of warmth, and life, and wonder. It drinks the haze away from me, thrusting me into sharp vivid reality when it leaves.
That’s when the room plunges in temperature. Somewhere, I feel him, feel his rage. It is vast, and dark, and deadly. Black, depthless oceans to my boiling geysers.
With a sudden jerk and a loud crash, Garret is flung off me. Thuds, and crashes come from the floor and Dae’s voice, promising a violent death with no such words.
The effects of the juice are suddenly gone. I sit up in time to see Garret thrashing beneath Dagen’s chokehold. Garret’s face is a bloody, mangled mess. I catch a glimpse of Dagen’s face. Not a scratch, but his eyes are the blackest I’ve ever seen. He’s gritting his teeth, his monstrous sword poised under Garret’s jaw.
When Dagen pulls his sword away from Garret, appearing to be fighting against this version of himself, Garret snarls, “She would’ve moaned for me.”
The room nearly shatters with ice.
Ice I can see with a cold I’ve never experienced.
Dagen slams his sword into Garret’s chest.
Garret’s scream of pain dies before it’s fully out. A pale-colored essence leaves Garret’s body. It makes a shattering sound as it disappears around Dagen, who’s unnervingly still.
My breath hitches and his head snaps to me. In this state, his veins popping from his neck, and blackness consuming his eyes, he looks like what he is.
For the first time I see the cost of my father’s soul gun.
Somehow, I feel Dagen’s pain, his hatred toward himself, like a palpable presence surrounding him, and I can’t breathe from the intensity of it.
The black slowly begins to recede in his eyes as they crumple at the sight of me. My outfit is in shreds and there are bruises from Garret’s vice grip around my arms.
Even though some warmth has returned to the room, my bones are still ice, and Garret’s lifeless body lies on the floor. ”He spiked my drink.”
”I know.”
Dagen stands, his sword vanishing to mist as he steps toward me.
“You killed him.”
“I did,” he says, not a stitch of remorse in his words. “They hurt you, they die.”
His lips curl back in a way that reminds me of a fight-trained dog. “You did not hear his desires. I will not be sorry for saving your life.” Pain flashes across his face when his gaze lands on my torn outfit.
Two cataclysmic forces battle inside me.
He took a life.
To protect mine.
Part of me hates Dagen for it.
Part of me comes alive for him.
“You killed him.” My voice is less accusatory, more absorbing.
His hands slide to the buttons on his shirt, flicking each one in a smooth, quick motion until the red fabric parts and his tan, rippling chest, full of scars, cuts into view between scarlet curtains.
He shrugs his shirt off and drapes it around my shoulders, wrapping me in his scent. That instant, calming scent.
I think some of the juice is still in my system after all because I can’t move, can’t talk.
Dropping to a knee in front of me, he begins buttoning it around my waist, my stomach, my breasts, closing it up. When he stands and offers his arm, the image of him walking away with Helina blares into my head, mixed with shame and embarrassment of what he just saved me from.
He tilts his head with that euphoric look he gets when he’s watching my memories.
Shit.
I start remembering times spent with Yisabell.
Dae’s eyes narrow as if he knows I’m evading him, but I continue my string of safe, neutral memories, like reading The King of Kings and searching the text for deeper meaning, or any book for that matter. Suddenly, I have the power to avoid his prying mind all night, because I’ve read a lot of books.
Over my dead body will I allow him to see the hurt in my memory as he walked away with Helina, or how vulnerable I feel right now.
“Your memories are acting weird,” he says, dropping his hand that I still haven’t reached for.
In my head, I move on to the book of gems, how much controversy they pose and the unpredictable things they do when melded with technology.
“Does it sincerely bother you?” he asks. “For me to see your memories? To know you so intimately?” He steps toward me, a look of longing in his now hazel eyes. “To see how fierce you are? Or how stubbornly spiteful and loyal you are?”
My mouth goes dry from that look directed at me, this close.
I realize, it doesn’t bother me for him to see who I am, to share my experiences, except this one, right now with Helina, because I am as prideful as I am loyal.
“Yes,” I say.
The memory of him walking toward her tries to surface, so I switch to learning the histories of the seven realms, reciting how intricately they are woven around our planet.
He backs away. “Then I won’t pry,” he says quietly. “Jasper is gone for the night, but Helina has offered to help.”
I can’t help it. The stinging memory floods back in full force, and I curse out loud. As much as I don’t want to face Helina, I would like to be able to block my mind when I choose to.
His brows furrow, but he doesn’t pry. He locks the door behind us when we leave so no patrons accidentally stumble upon Garret’s body. We walk in silence.
My eyes do not leave his open back that pulls and tugs his muscles as he walks ahead of me. When he vanishes to spirit near the crowd, I begrudgingly mourn the view.
“This way,” he says, keeping his distance even in spirit form. “Behind the big stage.”
After a secret door disguised as a painting, and multiple hallways, we arrive in a room more lavish than the one Garret dragged me into.
Waiting for me is Helina.
Beautiful, doe-eyed Helina.