Chapter 4
Dove lay on her back,upside down on the bed, bare feet propped on the headboard. Sterling rings gleamed on her unpainted toes. Boredom her only companion. Maybe she could give herself a pedicure. Yes! With the polish that was still at Vivian’s. Dang it.
She turned her head and glared at the locked door. Prior to her incarceration, she’d spent some time chatting with Ida, then explored the penthouse, not that there was much to explore with half the space off-limits. As promised, Ida appeared at 8:00 p.m. sharp, winched a skeleton key from the depths of her bosom, and locked Dove in for the night.
According to the clock on the nightstand, that was almost four hours ago. Only children were sent to bed before midnight. Sleep was the last thing on Dove’s mind.
Silky harem pants covered her legs with ties at the ankles and slits up the sides. Her midriff was bare below the cropped tank she wore. Perfect pajamas for belly dancing. Shame she didn’t know how. Maybe she’d take a class. She puffed out her gut, rounding her stomach before sucking it in again. Out. In. Out. In. Well, that was fun. Was it possible to die of boredom?
“Doomed!” She flung her arm over her eyes like some tragic damsel. “Doomed, I tell you.” Unfortunately, there wasn’t a soul around to even appreciate her dramatics. Drama was so much better with an audience. Lucky for her, she was her best audience.
She grabbed her throat, coughing and gasping. “Need… mental stimulation.” She rolled over in the bed, crawling across the mattress like it was the Sahara Desert. “Cheese puffs,” she groaned. “Cheese puffs and salted caramels.” The salmon, asparagus, and brown rice she’d had earlier was nutritious but far from what she’d been craving. “Help! Help me. Oh, what a world.” With one final choking cough, she collapsed. Dead.
Asparagus poisoning.
Wham!
“Gah!”Dove jerked, her muscles spasming. She whipped her head to the door and clutched her chest. What was that? It wasn’t a knock, more like the sound a bird would make smacking a window, but bigger. Much bigger.
She slid off the bed and tiptoed to the heavy wooden panel. The thing weighed a ton, seeming out of place in such a modern building. Given how it was constructed, you’d think Dove was a velociraptor they were trying to contain.
Why the heck did Steele have her locked inside, anyway? The whole situation was just weird. It was probably due to the fact that she was a ferocious necromancer, her awesome power feared by the underworld. Yeah, right. Her fellow faeries were far from dangerous. The Council had made sure of that, culling those they deemed too powerful.
“Hello?” Her ferocious voice trembled with nerves. “Is someone there?”
The bedroom lights flickered, electrical static crackling in her ears. She hugged her stomach, shivering at the sudden chill, and spun in a circle, glancing around the room. Thankfully, the flickering stopped, a warm glow once again lighting the space.
Faulty wiring? Weird. Clacking metal and a metallic squeak drew her back to the door. Eyes wide, she stared at the twisting doorknob. She held her breath, watching it rock back and forth.
Somebody was trying to get in.
But who?
“Steele? Is that you?”
Silence.
“Ida?”
The twisting stopped.
Perhaps it was a member of Steele’s security team. She had been shouting for help a moment ago. She exhaled. That must be it. Some well-intentioned guard was attempting to come to her aid.
“Hey, uh, sorry for crying wolf earlier, but I’m fine. I was just messing around.”
Silence. She huffed in irritation. None of Steele’s men were the talkative types. Still, the least the guy could do was answer after the scare he’d given her.
She pressed her ear to the thick panel, hearing zilch on the other side. She gave it a smack of her own. “You almost gave me a heart attack, you big dummy.”
Wham!
“Jiminy Christmas!” She scurried back. That hit was even harder than the last. Like someone walloped the door with a sledgehammer. Behavior completely unbefitting for a member of Steele’s security team.
Maybe she was wrong, and it wasn’t a guard. Surely, they would have a key.
She got down on her hands and knees and pressed her cheek to the hardwood. Through the crack, she made out two lumpy shapes. Feet, perhaps?
“Whoever you are, you better believe Lord Steele will hear about this tomorrow,” she threatened. Though there was zero chance she was telling anyone about this little knocking incident for fear of looking crazier than she already did.
Wind buffeted her face, blowing her hair back, followed by a bone-chilling growl. Dove skittered backward, crab walking on shaking limbs until she was in the center of the room. She pressed her hand to her heaving chest. Perhaps Steele had constructed the door to keep the velociraptor out instead of in.
As her breath slowed, a new thought entered her head.
Wait a minute. That was no velociraptor. In fact, this was just like…
She scrambled to her feet and planted her fists on her hips. “Oh, ha, ha. I get it. Haze the new kid. Very original.” Because she hadn’t lived through this scenario before. She’d learned all kinds of things during her time at Havenhouse. Number one, how cruel other children could be. Only problem with that theory was Steele, Ida, and Bishop were the only people she’d seen inside the penthouse. Was it possible Steele had other women locked away in his forbidden wing? Now that was a disturbing thought.
Goose bumps rose on her arms. The sense she was no longer alone prickled the fine hairs on the back of her neck. From beneath the door, an inky shadow invaded her room. She watched it spill across the hardwood, growing, spreading. Almost as though it were alive.
Gulp. That definitely narrowed the options of who lingered outside her door. Creeping shadows meant her midnight visitor wasn’t a guard, nor a velociraptor. In fact, there was an excellent chance it wasn’t even human.
She stepped to the left. It shifted left.
She stepped right. It shifted right.
Goddess save her, it seemed sentient and heading right for her. “That isn’t possible,” she whispered, toes curling against the rug. No way she was seeing this.
She darted to the dresser and flicked on the light. To her astonishment, the shadow stilled. Light! Light must be its weakness. Game on. She raced around the room, turning on every fixture in the place. To the nightstand. The switch on the wall for the ceiling. Bathroom. Finally, the side table.
Once done, she eyed the space in front of the door. The creeping shadow was gone. She pumped her fist in the air. “Hah! Take that!”
The light on her dresser flickered and went out. She tensed. Surely, it was a coincidence. The nightstand followed.
“No, no, no.” She flung out her arms like she could hold the darkness back by sheer force of will. Seconds ticked. Did it stop?
Sparks fizzled above her head and the fixture on the ceiling died. Shit! Next, the bathroom followed by the side table. Both out.
“No, no, no!” she repeated, hustling to the light switch, flicking it up and down. Nothing. Save for the moonlight shining through her windows, her whole bedroom was cast in darkness.
“You have got to be kidding me,” she shouted, heart racing. I will not panic. I will not! For once, she would not freeze in the face of danger.
She shook her finger at the door. “Oh, you’re good. Really good. But I’m not falling for this hazing nonsense. There’s no such thing as shadow monsters.” She hoped. At Havenhouse, she’d learned about all kinds of underworld species. That didn’t mean they’d covered every creature in existence.
Fortunately, she was equipped for just such an emergency. She rummaged blindly through the dresser drawer until her fingers hit a cylinder. Got it. She plopped down in the middle of the bed and flipped the switch. Her telescoping flashlight illuminated a two-foot space around her. She pulled the end out, extending it to its full size. Ha! Behold her glowing rainbow sword.
Okay, as far as being a defensive weapon, the festival souvenir was laughable. At least she wasn’t sitting in the dark anymore. Mostly. Asking one tiny lightbulb to brighten an entire room was expecting a lot.
Moonlight spilled through her windows, casting long shadows on the walls and floor. Some resembled ghostly arms, stretching, reaching. Were they getting longer? Holy hot cakes. They were. The fine hairs on her forearms stood at attention. She shivered, icy tingles prickling her glyph. Her body warned—something wicked this way comes.
Invisible fingers grazed her cheek in a gentle, almost reverent caress.
“Hi ya!” She swung her sword. Rainbow plastic whistled through the air. “Take that!” Swish. Woosh. “Show yourself, coward!”
Swishwoosh.
Swishwoosh.
Swishwoosh.
Her arm muscles burned from the unexpected workout, and her frantic swiping slowed. There wasn’t anything there. Her Jedi skills wasted. Her glyph fired up, itching like poison ivy on a hot summer day. She fought the urge to use her rainbow sword as a backscratcher.
Shadows slid across the floor, retreating toward the window. In their wake, a deep-throated rumble teased her ears. Was that laughter? Nothing about the laughter or the shadow was natural. In fact, it was supernatural. She facepalmed her forehead.
“I’m so stupid.”
She wasn’t being hazed. She was being haunted.
Thank goodness. The burning anxiety pumping through her veins cooled. This she could handle. She’d take a ghost over a shadow monster any day. What a boneheaded mistake for a necromancer. In her defense, she was totally out of her element here at Steele Tower. New home, new benefactor, locked in, missing Vivian and Armond, out of sorts. Her lapse in judgment, totally understandable. Okay, dose of self-destructive guilt—averted.
Think, Dove. Think.
Steele Tower was a fairly new building, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t susceptible to spirits and poltergeist. From what she understood, the tower was home to several businesses and housed hundreds of souls. Any of them could have met their end here. Maybe her visitor was one of the women Steele had locked away in his creepy, forbidden wing.
Cause of death—asparagus poisoning. She shivered. What a way to go.
Problem, this spirit was what she called a chain-rattler. Yeah, the instructors at Havenhouse hated when she made up her own names for things. What-ev. Her choices made a lot more sense than their Latin gobbledygook. Unlike the moaners and groaners, rattlers could interact with their environment, making them hard to ignore.
Worse, this interloper was invading her personal space. Worse than worse—it had touched her.
Unacceptable.
Not that she was one for absolutes, but this issue was a hard limit between necromancers and the incorporeal. Under no circumstances should a necromancer allow a spirit to manipulate or control their bodies. Turns out, bad things happened when spirits inhabited a supernatural being who was capable of controlling spiritual energy. Still, this was a rule that made a lot of sense. One of the rare few she respected and followed religiously.
Ready to battle, Dove rose up on her knees, holding her rainbow sword like Rey Skywalker—the coolest badass chick of all the Star Wars jedis. Why she didn’t just get it on with Kylo Ren, she’d never understand. They were so yin and yang, light and dark. Perfect for each other. “Alright, listen here. I’ve had about enough of this. Now, this is how it’s going to go. First—”
The bed beneath her shimmied. Uh-oh. Not good. Her rattler had some serious kahunas to pull off that kind of physical manifestation. Making it a high level something-or-other. Okay, so what if she’d flunked out of the more advanced portion of the chain-rattler class, but the instructor hated her, so… not her fault.
“Alright, you’ve made your point.” She could end this with a snap of her fingers. Still, being a pacifist, she preferred to pursue non-violent alternatives when possible. “You’re totally shaking my bed. Good for you. Now, if you would kindly stop, perhaps we could talk and get to know each other better.”
In answer, paintings banged against the walls, and her bed vibrated. Cool. She hadn’t even put a quarter in for the ride. Sledgehammers attacked the door. The noise grew deafening. Her annoying visitor was totally showing off. All around her was chaos. Seriously, with all the racket, why didn’t someone come to her rescue? Anyone in earshot was probably in denial that it was happening.
This was the problem with the divide between the living and the dead. The living liked to pretend the dead didn’t exist. And the dead liked to pretend they were above the living. Anyone who talked about the two was considered a wacko. That’s where Dove came in.
She smashed her hands over her ears. “Okay, incorporeal being, this is your last warning before I bring out the big guns. Trust me. You won’t like me when I’m angry.”
Again, in answer, the violence escalated. Lights flickered like a strobe. The entire space writhed as though caught in an earthquake. Every piece of her haven was in motion.
Enough was enough.
She sighed and stumbled clear of the bouncing bed, standing with her legs braced in the middle of the room. Warmth rose in her center, blazing up through her chest, to her throat. She tipped back her head and unleased an energy-infused command. “The power of Christ compels you!”Laughter bubbled up inside of her. “Sorry.” She wiped a hilarious tear from her eye. “Ah, that one always gets me. But seriously… Leave. Now,” she said in an otherworldly voice, delivering the order with a hefty push of power.
Quiet descended.
The bed settled into its frame. Paintings rested askew on the walls as though a drunk with vertigo had hung them. Clothing spilled from the partially opened drawers of the dresser. Lights blazed to life. The quiet was almost deafening. It was the kind of silence that followed a horrible storm. When all that remained was the carnage it left behind.
In the aftermath, Dove groaned, rubbing her pounding temples. Dang it. She hated to pull out the big guns. And here comes the migraine.
She surveyed the disheveled room and exhaled a sigh. What do you know? The place was starting to look like home.
Her heart squeezed. Oh, Vivian, what have you gotten me into?
“Thank you, Gilbert.”Marcus hung up his phone, rubbing his burning eyes. He could no longer ignore the truth. His second officer was deceiving him. If Vivian’s butler hadn’t just called, Marcus would have had no idea her mansion was attacked last night. Apparently, the report Gilbert sent to Marcus’s private address had gone missing. No doubt he’d find it in his second’s sticky fingers. The bastard was keeping things from him in an attempt to surpass him. Could he trust no one?
“Betrayersss, all of them,” said the oily voice in his head. “Their soulsss are dark. Deserving of punishment.”
Rage burned his hollow gut, and heat unfurled in his aching muscles. Shadows slid along the walls, gathering around him. Leather groaned between his clenched fingers. Shit. Not now. I am in control. He forced his muscles to relax, breathing slowly through his nose. After several torturous moments, his body cooled, the shadows receding.
The voice withdrew with a scathing snort. “For now,” the darkness whispered.
Marcus leaned back, rubbing his temples, exhaustion pressing in. Damn, but these episodes were becoming more frequent. Though he’d given into Bishop’s nagging and slept last night, today he was even more tired than before. He’d need to do something before he was completely mad.
Gentle knocking came from the door.
“Enter,” he snapped.
Dove glided in, a bright smile on her face. Shit. What now? Didn’t Ida tell her she wasn’t allowed in the east wing?
“Good morning, Lord Steele,” Dove sang in a cheery voice. “Did you sleep well?”
He frowned at the question, unaccustomed to people being so jovial around him. Since his accident, they tended to cast fearful glances his way, afraid of drawing his attention.
“Yes,” he lied, some instinct compelling him to return the greeting. “And you?”
“Terrible.” She sighed dramatically, flopping into the chair across from him.
She was staying? He frowned, watching her tuck her bare feet under the hem of her long skirt. While he waited for her to disclose the purpose of her visit, she gathered her silver-blond hair at her nape, pulled it up on top of her head, and secured it there with an elastic band. As she did so, her crocheted top rode up, baring her midriff. The creamy expanse of pale skin appeared softer than silk.
He swallowed, his mouth strangely dry. “Why are you here?” Finishing her toilet in his office. And why the hell was he watching her, curious to see what the annoying creature would do next?
She lowered her arms, the bangles on her wrists tinkling. “Ida was busy, so I thought I’d pop in to ask you a quick question.”
“May as well,” he growled. “Now you’re here. Uninvited.” He needed to speak to Ida about keeping their guest out of his way. At least her arrival wasn’t untimely, given he did have an issue to discuss with the chit.
She peered at him and he felt himself shrinking from her gaze, sinking deeper into the shadows, hiding his disfigured face.
“Ask,” he snapped.
“Right.” She blinked, cheeks darkening. “Was Steele Tower constructed on a vacant lot or was something here before, say like a prison or graveyard?”
He frowned, thrown by the question enough to answer. “There was a parking garage.”
“Simple parking garage, huh?” She chewed her plump lip.
He dragged his eyes from her mouth, studying her expression. “Is something wrong?”
“No. No. Everything is fine,” she said cheerfully. Too cheerfully. “Are there any other guests living here? Roommates or girlfriends. Other faeries you have locked away in a closet somewhere?”
Now she was being absurd. “What’s this about?”
“Just wondering if it would only be the two of us.” Her sunny expression grew guarded. “It would be nice to have another person to talk to. You know, the more the merrier.”
She was hiding something. He had no patience for lies and deceit. Ever. Nor did he have time to figure out what was bouncing around in that empty head of hers. Best to get on with it and send her on her way. Far from him.
“Vivian’s butler called,” he stated. “There was an incident last night and Vivian was attacked. While she escaped harm, part of the mansion caught fire.”
“Fire,” Dove gasped, clutching her chest. “Was it her ex? That mage is bad news. Arson sounds just like something he’d do.”
“Her butler was under the impression Zion was involved.” Worse, he claimed several fire demons were there as well. The possibility the fire demons had aligned with Zion meant bad things for the underworld.
“Zion?” She frowned. “That doesn’t make sense. Why would some crazy cult leader attack Vivian?”
“Gilbert believed Zion was searching for some artifact rumored to be in Vivian’s possession. He thinks it’s the same item the mage is after. If he’s right, your former benefactor has a bigger target on her back than she realized.”
Dove’s rosy cheeks paled. “That means I’ll be stuck here even longer than expected.”
Marcus gritted his teeth. Women used to throw themselves at him, and yet this one was more than eager to be free of him. Oh, how far he’d fallen that he couldn’t even beg for scraps from a faerie.
“While most of the mansion is intact, your belongings were smoke damaged. Gilbert wanted you to know that he cannot send them to you.”
She winced. “I should return home to make sure Gilbert is okay.”
His Chosen planned to leave? Dark urges stirred at his core. “No,” he commanded, growling his denial.
“But Gilbert—”
“Doesn’t need you.”
“But I should—”
“Your place is here now. With me.” Shadows laced his words, his voice grating. Dove shivered in response, rubbing the back of her neck. At last, she seemed to pick up on the danger he represented.
Marcus forced his muscles to relax, pushing the darkness down. He cleared his throat, forcing an even tone. “Have you forgotten our agreement?”
She stiffened. “No, of course not. But given the situation, surely you could make an exception.”
“If you’d bothered to read the contract you signed, you’d know I agreed to make your safety a priority. Now that Vivian is under attack on two fronts, you’re in even more danger. Should her enemies get their hands on you, they will use you to harm her. You’re a vulnerability, not an asset.”
She clenched her fist, crinkling handfuls of her skirt. “You seriously think they would use me to get to her? That’s diabolical.”
He snorted. “It’s what I would do.”
Dove stared at him, mouth gaping. At a loss for words? It was likely a first.
He’d savor the moment if he didn’t have bigger, more important issues to deal with. “I’m meeting with my House officers this afternoon.” Along with his underhanded second. “While I’m gone, I’ll arrange for you to go shopping to replace what you’ve lost.” At the offer, his lips curled with satisfaction. No doubt the chit would be overwhelmed by his generosity. It was past time she understood the benefits of being Marcus Steeles’s Chosen.
In response, she folded her arms over her chest, huffing a stray curl off her forehead. “Simple as that, huh? You expect me to just pop into a store to purchase everything I’ve lost.”
He frowned. “This displeases you.”
“Some things are not so easy to replace.”
That she dared to scorn his generosity roused his ire, causing him to strike back in return. “Anything can be purchased for the right price.”
“I disagree,” she dared to snap.
“And yet, here you are,” he countered, finding he relished her reaction.
“Excuse me?” She scowled, giving him her full attention.
He rested his forearms on his desk, a sardonic curl tugging his lips. “When last I saw Vivian, she swore she wouldn’t part with you for any price.” She’d said as much at his casino opening, when he’d teased her about purchasing the artist who’d created the paintings that were on display.
Dove lifted her chin. “I may not have read the contract line by line, but I know for a fact, not one cent was exchanged in this arrangement. I’m not some possession to be bought and sold.”
“Money isn’t the only currency,” he said, enjoying the way her eyes blazed before narrowing.
“You’re right. There are many things that have value beyond money. In this, I am quite wealthy.”
“You?” He coughed a laugh, strangely energized by their banter. “Do tell me, where is this great fortune that you speak of?” Vivian had provided for the girl’s every need. He doubted she had a penny to her name.
Instead of being cowed as he’d intended, Dove firmed her chin and rose from her seat. With her determined gaze locked on him, she rounded his desk.
Intrigued, he watched as she perched her hip on his desktop, her long skirt parting to reveal her silken thigh. The scent of jasmine teased his senses. Her steady heartbeat, an enticing rhythm in his ears.
“I know my worth, Lord Steele, and I won’t let you nor anyone else make me feel cheap. You seem to think I’m ignorant about how the underworld operates, when, trust me, nothing can be further from the truth. The blood coursing through my veins is priceless, and yet ironically, it has cost me a great deal.” She thrust her bare arm beneath his shadowed hood. “In that contract that I didn’t read, I believe I agreed to share it with you. Know that I do so freely, with no judgment, nor need to belittle you.”
Beguiled by the flutter of her pulse in her wrist, he ignored her verbal jab. Yes, take what she offersss. She is oursss.
Lights flickered in the room. He eyed the slender expense of her forearm, her slim wrist with its delicate blue veins. Hunger twisting his gut, he dropped his gaze to the tender skin on the inside of her thigh. How easy it would be to grab her hips and sink his fangs into her sweet flesh.
In a soft whisper, she said, “Tell me, Steele, what has the acquisition of your great fortune cost you? If you were to visit a store, could you slap down a credit card and replace all you’ve lost?”
Her gentle words were a dagger stabbing his heart, striking deep. Did she think to teach him some twisted lesson in humility? Little fool. She had no idea what she provoked.
He grabbed her wrist and pulled, only to tug her off his desk and onto her feet. She gasped and stumbled before righting herself.
“Leave me,” he barked. “I’ve no time for this nonsense.”
After smoothing her skirts, Dove flounced to the door like a petulant child.
Rather than study the swish of her hips, he turned back to his work, resisting the urge to toy with her further. “Be ready to leave in an hour. My security team will escort you.”
She paused in the doorway. “Do I really need a security team to watch over me while I shop for underwear?”
“Yes.”
“Fine.” Her bare feet slapped down the hallway, her voice trailing behind her. “Joke’s on you, Steele,” she sang. “I don’t wear underwear.”
At this, his lips may have curled just a bit.