Chapter 9 The Lost
The Lost
I’d always been the sort of girl who said yes when people asked for help. It was part of my nature. And I liked to think that I was a good person, that I wanted to help people, no matter what it cost me.
But this was too much.
Even assuming this was real—which was still open for debate—this sounded way, way over my head.
I pulled my hand out of Octavian’s grip. My skin still buzzed, but it was easier to think straight when he wasn’t touching me. And when I wasn’t staring into those expressive, bottomless blue eyes.
“This is…a lot,” I said finally, pushing up from my seat on shaky knees. My entire body itched with that incessant shiver, and it was growing more distracting every minute. “I’m sorry, but I think I need to go.”
I practically ran to the door, but Radven—who’d been the farthest away—somehow beat me there, blocking my path with his body. He hovered over me, all cruel beauty and deadly grace.
“I think you should reconsider,” he said, training his predator-like gaze on me.
“Or what? You’ll stab me with that knife you have hidden in your sleeve?” Okay, maybe it was stupid to provoke the guy with the knife hidden in his sleeve, but I wasn’t thinking straight. “If you need me that badly you aren’t going to kill me.”
“I wouldn’t need to kill you.” He drew closer, and despite the fact that this was the very same man who’d been intent on protecting me during the blackout, I had no doubt he would do everything short of killing me to get what he wanted.
“Let her pass.” Octavian’s rumble was close behind me, but I didn’t dare tear my eyes away from his dangerous brother.
“That’s it, then? You’re going to let her walk away?” Radven was watching me like I was a rodent skewered on the tip of his claw, like he couldn’t decide whether he wanted to play with me or devour me whole.
“I’m not going to let you torture her,” Octavian replied. “If she helps us, it must be willingly.”
“Oh, I have every intention of making her willing.” His eyes flashed with heat, and I realized that he wasn’t talking about using his knife this time.
There was a part of me—the wicked, reckless part—that would have been willing to let him try. He was beautiful, and I was…intrigued, in spite of myself. How would a dangerous man like this treat a lover? Was there any gentleness in him, or would he bind my wrists above my head and—
“ENOUGH.” That was Alastor, using the same commanding tone he’d tried on me before his brothers had shown up. “Let the girl go, Radven. If you want a plaything, there are dozens of others upstairs who’d be happy enough to jump into your bed.”
Radven looked like he might protest, but apparently even he listened to Alastor, and after a moment’s hesitation, he stepped out of my way. But I felt his eyes on me as I hurried past him and up the stairs.
The door at the top was locked, but Octavian was close behind me. He reached around me and slid the key into the lock. Even though he was careful not to touch me, I could still feel the heat of him at my back.
“If you change your mind, we’ll be here,” he rumbled in my ear. “Just tell a member of the staff that Oak asked for you.”
That wasn’t the first time I’d heard that name tonight. “That’s your nickname?”
He nodded and pushed the door open. “But only a few people know that.”
He gestured for me to walk out into the hallway, then glanced down the stairs behind us. Radven stood at the bottom, watching us with one of those crooked smiles on his lips.
“I’ll walk you back to the party,” Octavian told me.
“Would R—George actually hurt me?” I asked when we were out of earshot. Despite the fact that I was pretty sure Octavian knew his brother’s name—and the fact that I was seriously questioning Radven’s character—I’d made a promise and I intended to keep it.
Octavian took a moment to choose his words. “He had to fight for survival from a very young age. He’s a good man, but he was forced to make choices that no one should ever have to make—let alone a child. That shapes a man.” He didn’t offer anything else.
I thought about that for a moment, then said, “What about Alastor? He’s so…” My brain scrambled for the right word, then finally settled on the simplest one. “Angry.”
Octavian didn’t look at me. “Alastor is lost.” He paused, then added. “We all are, but him most of all. He’s tied to Therador in a much deeper way than either Radven or myself.”
For the first time, the bleakness I’d seen in his eyes extended to his deep voice as well, and my stomach twisted in knots.
I didn’t want these men to suffer because of me—not even after the way Alastor and Radven had treated me—but I also liked to think that I wasn’t the sort of idiot who suddenly believed in things like magic and other worlds just because some crazy billionaires told her they were real.
I wish Esmer and Isaac were here. Together, I had no doubt that the three of us would discover the truth and figure out exactly what to do.
“Did you take my phone?” I said abruptly. It occurred to me that he could have slipped it out of my purse while we were dancing—or kissing.
“Hm?” Octavian frowned down at me.
“Someone took my cell phone out of my bag.” Octavian had certainly had the opportunity, as had the gossipy woman in the crimson gown who’d told me about the brothers and their masks.
For that matter, Radven had shown up right after I’d noticed it missing, so it was also possible that he was the thief.
Heck, the masquerade had been so crowded and I’d been so distracted that I would have made an easy mark for a pickpocket.
And that was still assuming it hadn’t just fallen out of my purse on its own.
Octavian, to his credit, looked perplexed by the situation. “I can’t imagine why someone would steal from you. Most of our guests are wealthy enough to afford whatever electronic devices they want.”
What if the thief just wanted to keep me from calling for help?
I wondered. The more I thought about it, the more likely it seemed that Radven had been behind the theft.
But I suspected that mentioning that to Octavian would get me nowhere.
Radven could keep the damn phone—I was more interested in getting out of here as soon as humanly possible.
We’d reached the door that led back into the main party room, and I could hear the muffled music and chatter on the other side. Those people had no idea what was actually going on with these strange brothers.
Octavian paused with his hand on the door, then glanced back down the hallway behind us. I looked, too, half-expecting to see Radven following us like a panther stalking its prey, but we were alone.
He looked down at me. “Remember what I said about changing your mind. But if you decide you want nothing to do with us ever again…” All the warmth left his face. “Go far from this place. As far as you can. It’s not safe for you here.”
“Because of your brothers?”
“No. For other reasons.” He didn’t elaborate, and I wasn’t sure I wanted him to.
“Are there other ways for you to get home?” It felt absurd to talk about the whole magical-other-world thing as if it were real, but I couldn’t help myself.
Every glimmer of sadness or emptiness I’d seen in him before that moment paled in comparison to the sheer hopelessness I saw in his eyes then, and even his rich voice was flat and hollow when he said, simply, “No.”
There was so much pain in that word that it made my body ache.
Even though I’d just met this man, even though he was basically a stranger and possibly crazy and a little too forgiving of his brothers, I longed to wrap my arms around him and hold him close and assure him that everything was going to be all right, that I’d find a way to fix this.
But I didn’t.
He yanked the door open before I could offer any sort of response, and I was assaulted by the lights and the sounds and the smells of the masquerade. The time for talking was past.
It’s time to get the hell out of here.
I cast a final glance at Octavian, who made one last attempt at one of those charming smiles before shutting the door behind me and leaving me to navigate my own way through the party. My heart gave one final twinge of regret for his pain, but my decision had been made.
And I didn’t waste any time. I slipped along the edge of the room, skirting the throngs of people mingling and chattering.
The smells rising from the buffet were tempting, but even though the thought of stuffing my purse full of food on the way out was amusing, I didn’t dare linger.
Promising myself that I’d stop at a drive-thru on the way home, I darted straight for the exit.
And ran right into one of the servers holding a tray full of Nectar.
We fell together into a giant heap, and the goblets flew everywhere, spilling the sweet, sticky drink across my dress and skin.
After recovering from the initial shock of the fall, I uttered my apologies to the poor girl and scrambled to my feet, aware that our little mishap had been loud enough to attract the attention of those nearby.
Pale gold and pink droplets of Nectar rained from my skin as I reached down to help the girl stand, trying to ignore the stares and laughter from around us.
And then my skin began to shiver.
It was the same thing I’d been feeling all night.
But either the effect was heightened when being literally drenched in otherworldly liquor or the effects of everything had compounded over the course of the evening, because the sensation went from odd-but-pleasant to my-arms-are-covered-in-fire-ants in a matter of seconds.
This was worse than the itchiness I‘d felt down in the brothers’ lair. This was almost unbearable.
I clamped my lips shut, biting back a scream as I sprinted through the room, not caring who I shoved out of my way. By the time I reached the entry hall there were tears leaking down my cheeks, and even those burned. My entire face felt like it was on fire from my cheeks to my hairline.
The mask.
I stumbled out the front door and onto the steps, scrabbling for the ribbon that tied around the back of my head.
My foot missed the second-to-last step from the bottom and I tumbled forward, falling onto my hands and knees.
The mask fell off my face, fluttering to the ground in a swirl of delicate metallic lace, but my face continued to prickle and burn.
“Miss? Miss, are you all right?”
There was someone coming down the stairs—a man—and when he reached me he grabbed me gently by the arm.
His touch sent another ripple of scorching pain across my skin, and I screamed, unable to hold it back anymore. He released me, and I think he shouted something, but I couldn’t make out the words through the flood of pain.
Everything burned. It rippled across my skin in waves, dancing like needles up my arms and across my scalp and down my spine.
I couldn’t tell whether the pain was coming from the outside in or the inside out.
It felt like my skin was alive and trying to peel itself off of me…
and then it felt like there was no skin at all, like there was nothing to protect my nerves from the endless invisible attacks.
There were other voices around me then, other people reaching for me. I cringed away from every touch. I was probably screaming, and crying, but I’d lost the ability to think or understand anything but the overpowering pain.
Suddenly there was a familiar voice in my ear, deep and rumbling and steady as a mountain.
“It’s all right,” Octavian murmured. “We’re trying to help you.”
I felt myself being lifted off the ground, and I writhed and cried out against the pain, until it all became too much and darkness closed in around me.