Chapter 16 #2
“What is it?” Lothar said, his hands touching the small of my back, concern on his handsome face.
“It’s fine,” I said and forced a smile. “There’s just a lot riding on tonight.” I had to prepare myself to let him go again. I had to walk away. There was no other choice. It was impossible.
He nodded and his hand slid up and down my back. “I got you tonight, babe. Whatever you need.”
Hounds liked certain textures, things that were soft and smooth especially. Lothar liked the silk of the long slip dress I’d selected. It had thin delicate straps, and the burgundy fabric fell over my curves like liquid. “I know. Thanks, Loth. I appreciate it.”
His hand slid up my spine again, but this time his fingers curled around the back of my neck in a hold that was so utterly possessive, my breath caught.
“We’re in this together, yeah? We’re a team, so you don’t need to thank me.”
We hit the bottom of the stairs, and Grimmel materialized out of nowhere like a creepy spindly shadow.
“This way,” he said and strode ahead toward a set of ornate double doors.
“Just an FYI regarding dinner,” I said. “Lothar and I both have special dietary needs. Strictly no people meat.”
Lothar’s lips twitched, and my heart beat a little faster at the sight.
“Noted,” Grimmel said, then gripped both handles and shoved the doors wide.
We followed him into the large room decorated in shades of burgundy like my dress and lit by candles in a large number of silver candelabras placed around the room. There was a long table in the middle and several people sat around it. Their gazes all slid to us.
It seemed Drake had other guests attending tonight, though the host himself wasn’t here yet.
Grimmel cleared his throat. “May I introduce, Roxana the Blade, revered warrior and handmaiden to Lucifer, King of Hell.”
There were rumblings from the table, and the bland expressions turned to interest.
“Accompanying our esteemed guest this evening is her paramour, low-ranking hellhound, Lothar.”
Low ranking? It was a lie, of course. Lothar was one of the older hounds and one of War’s most trusted inner circle.
Grimmel was purposely trying to piss Loth off, who’d gone rock solid beside me.
As unpredictable as hounds could be, I had no idea how he’d react to the insult.
He could say nothing and brush it off, or he could turn around and tear Grimmel’s head from his shoulders. Both were serious options.
I quickly slid my hand in Loth’s and squeezed.
He glanced down at me, and I held his furious stare. Ignore him. Don’t react. I hadn’t said the words out loud, and he couldn’t read my mind, but he saw something in me, because he calmed almost instantly.
Grimmel motioned me to my seat and strode ahead to pull out my chair for me.
Lothar growled low and strode over, forcing him to step back, and slid it out instead.
One of the guests laughed. I ignored them as I took my seat and Lothar did the same beside me.
Tension still rolled off him, but he at least seemed to have a handle on his anger.
“You’re very growly tonight,” I said to him and laughed, since we had an audience and they weren’t missing a thing.
His shoulders stiffened. “You know how I get, kitten,” he said as he scanned the room with glowing red eyes. “I don’t like it when other males ogle you.” Then he dragged my chair closer to his and flung his arm around my shoulders.
Two of the three males at the table instantly dipped their gazes, the third smirked and sipped his wine, not sparing Lothar a glance, and kept his eyes on me.
“You need to get that dog to heel, Roxana the warrior,” he said, sarcasm dripping from his voice.
“Drake doesn’t stand for posturing in his home. ”
I sharpened my gaze on the male and squeezed Lothar’s thigh under my hand when I felt it tense to stand.
Not looking away from the prick across the table, I let my pleasant smile drop.
I’d really love to carve some pretty slices into that smarmy face of his.
“Lothar doesn’t posture. So perhaps you should mind your manners if you don’t want to piss him off. ”
His smirk stayed firmly in place. “Ah, like that is it.”
“Like what?”
“Grimmel announced you as ‘the blade,’ but it’s clear that the little lady needs her attack dog.”
Lothar growled, then drew in a breath, about to say something or perhaps roar in his face, but before he could, and with centuries of practiced speed, I slid a blade from the sheath strapped to my thigh and threw it.
The point of my blade sunk into the surface of the table, right in front of Smarmy, dead center, and only millimeters from the edge, and his soft belly.
The prick jerked back, eyes widening, alarm on his face. His gaze sliced back to me. “You could have stabbed me,” he shrieked.
Again, with speed, I slid another blade free and fired it as well. It landed so close to the first, the sound of the steel blades sliding together rang out in the now silent room. His shocked gaze sliced between my knives and me, mouth gaping. I sat forward. “Um…sorry, I didn’t get your name?”
He blustered, panting and sweating now. “Fennel.”
The guy was named after a vegetable, and a shit-tasting one at that. “If I’d wanted to stab you, Fennel, you would already be dead. And FYI, an insult to me is an insult to Lucifer. Was it your intention to insult the king of Hell?”
“Now now,” a cultured voice said, “behave yourselves.”
I turned as Drake strode into the room. He was wearing black trousers and a red velvet dinner jacket with black lapels. Drake was average height, stocky. His hair was slicked back and his aqua eyes were striking as he smiled, flashing his short, pointed teeth.
He moved to his seat at the head of the table, and Grimmel rushed to pull out his chair.
Drake sat and took us all in with a congenial smile.
“Fennel, my dear, Roxana has more than earned her moniker. She has bathed in the blood of more of Lucifer’s enemies than all of your father’s men put together.
You must show her the respect she is owed.
And despite how Grimmel announced her companion, Lothar is far from low ranking.
” His gaze slid to Lothar. “By all accounts, our new friend here is not someone to be trifled with.” His lips curled up in a barely there smile, his gaze sharpening.
“No wonder you make such good bedfellows.” He waved Grimmel over to fill his glass.
“Why one can positively smell it on you. Did Grimmel not provide you with clean towels?”
He thought he knew why we were here, but he wasn’t sure, and he wasn’t going to admit a thing.
“I like my scent on Roxy,” Lothar said in his deep growly voice.
The woman across from Fennel jumped.
“He speaks,” Drake said.
“When necessary,” Lothar said.
Drake clasped his hands together on the table. “And you think it’s necessary now?”
“Yes.”
“Care to elaborate?”
“Was I not clear?”
“Apparently not.”
“Roxy is mine.” His gaze slid to Fennel. “Insult her, come anywhere near her, and die.”
Oh dear.
Drake laughed, as if delighted, but he was furious.
We were in his house, but we outranked him.
This realm was small, without a proper army.
He relied on Lucifer and his demons for protection.
Us coming here had reiterated that, and in front of an audience as well.
His gaze slid back to me. “Have you been introduced to everyone?”
“Only Fennel.” Fennel looked at me as if he wanted to puke. I winked.
Drake made the introductions, but I barely registered their names. They weren’t important.
“So, tell me, Roxana, what brings you here?” Drake said as Grimmel delivered the starters.
I smiled. “Didn’t Grimmel tell you? Lucifer’s sent me on a bit of a tour, visiting our allies, reconnecting.” I placed the red box on the table and slid it toward him. “Lucifer wanted me to personally give you this small token of friendship.”
“He did?” His eyes didn’t leave mine.
“That’s right.”
He opened the box. Drake had a practiced eye for fine things.
One glance and he’d know it was cheap rubbish.
His gaze flicked back up to me, and there was alarm there.
Lucifer would never give him something fake.
I’d thought Drake knowing our real purpose here might work against us, now I realized it was the opposite.
He sat calmly, but his mind was racing, weighing what he should do.
“I must thank him.” He slid his phone from his pocket.
“Right now?” I said.
Drake smiled wide. “But of course.”
He decided to go straight to the source.
If Lucifer knew nothing about my visit, I was working independently, and maybe he had a shot at getting out of this mess.
If Lucifer went along with my obvious lie, he’d know he had limited and seriously unpleasant options.
Either continue to lie and hope he got away with it, or hand over Beelzebub and beg for forgiveness.
Both options came with consequences—some far more severe than others.
Lothar stilled beside me. We hadn’t yet had a chance to tell Lucifer what was happening. It didn’t matter though. However Lucifer reacted to this call, if he even answered, was the right way. That’s how it worked with him.
Drake scrolled to Lucifer’s number and hit call, putting it on speaker. Maybe he thought he was going to catch us out and turn the tables on us.
“Drake,” Lucifer’s deep, smooth voice echoed through the speaker. “How can I help you, old friend?”
Drake kept that aqua gaze locked on me. “I’m just calling to thank you for the gift.”
“Of course,” Lucifer said without missing a beat. “You are one of my most treasured friends and trusted allies. I hope you’re treating my Roxy well.”
At my Roxy, Lothar stiffened again. “Hi, Luci!” I called. He may have suspected, or already knew, we were there. Now he knew for sure. That’s just how it was with Lucifer. Yes, he was a mystery, but I never doubted him.
Even if sometimes that was incredibly difficult. I gave Lothar’s thigh another squeeze to get him to relax.
Lucifer chuckled. “There she is. If anything should ever happen to her…” Silence echoed through the phone. “Well, it doesn’t bear thinking about, or the aftermath.”
Drake shifted in his seat. “I assure you, Roxana and her paramour are being treated as honored guests, my lord.”
“I hope you like your gift,” Lucifer said without missing a beat.
But I heard the change in his voice, subtle as it was, when Drake mentioned me having a paramour, because I knew Luci better than almost anyone, definitely anyone at this table.
“We’ll talk again soon, Drake,” Lucifer said, then ended the call.
I widened my smile at a rattled-looking Drake. “Shall we eat? This looks delicious.”
The blood had drained from Drake’s face.
Ding. Ding. Ding. Give the man a prize. He’d worked out exactly how fucked he was.
Now we just had to wait and see what he chose. Give Beelzebub up.
Or continue to lie through his pointed teeth.