Chapter 11
I was smart enough to see things for what they were, not just through my precognition. This distinguished member of the Opalfire clan did nothing to hide that he was my temporary keeper, meant to keep tabs on me in Ace’s absence.
The transition of events that brought me back to this penthouse suite had been wrapped in chaos and sin. There had been no time to process what happened between Ace and me in that alley or the mark he left behind on my flesh.
Tattoo or brand? Did it matter?
Even as my mind drifted back to the phantom sensation of his hands on my body, his tongue, the absolute devotion in his eyes, the Drakyn hybrid’s rattled clearing of his throat brought my attention back to the present.
More than a simple passage of air, I could only compare it to a growl of crackling embers.
For one delusional moment, I considered fleeing.
Creating a distraction and strutting right out of this prison wrapped in fine luxury.
What were the odds Ace left the door unsecured a second time?
Temptation settled deep inside my chest, but it was the pulsing warmth of Ace’s mark on the inside of my thigh that gave me pause.
There was no telling how deeply he’d buried the spade into my body.
Was it just for show, or was it a way to keep tabs on what he declared his?
Instead of risking a move that would reek of desperation, I decided to play the game I was best at—being me. If this scaly friend of Ace’s wanted to engage in a match of wits and abilities, I’d ensure that I’d be one step ahead of him the whole damn way.
Once Val explained the nature of the game to me, it became innately clear who would win. Obviously, not him.
Using his telekinesis, the cryptex’s first blank dial spun, spun, spun…
My eyelids grew heavy and my mind even heavier.
The room tilted, and soon it felt like I was floating, and everything around me faded into nothing.
“Genevieve.”
The female voice echoed down the dark hallway. Too dark for me to see who had called my name. Something about the way she spoke tugged at my memory, but didn’t quite settle. Not quite Déjà vu, not quite recognition either.
“Over here, Genevieve.”
This time it came from behind me, closer but still too far in the darkness of the unfamiliar space to pinpoint.
“Who’s there?” I called out.
No response. Fucking figured.
Turning in a full circle, I finally noticed the faintest of lights coming from my left. The din of a packed casino floated down the length of the confined space.
Drawn to the telltale sounds of laughter, I stepped towards the promise of company in this strange place. The closer I got, the more distinct the symphony of sounds became.
Shrill chimes of slot machines hitting jackpots in their air-splitting pitch.
Choruses of disappointed groans over shared losses and louder cheers of individual wins.
Expensive crystal clinking in grandiose toasts that no one would recall come morning.
At the end of the hallway, the door hung open just a crack. Leaning forward, I peered into the illuminated room.
Before I could observe anything beyond the doorway, my surroundings violently shifted in the blink of an eye.
One moment, I was cloaked in darkness, and the next, I was in a crowded lounge seated at the bar. Looking down at myself, I discovered I wore a violet dress made of expensive silk with gossamer accents.
The strapless sweetheart neckline followed the curve of my breasts, and the material clung to my body like a second skin before stopping short enough to tease the exposure of my bare thighs.
Glancing over my shoulder, sheer panels of black fabric began at my low back and cascaded to the floor in an elegant train that pooled around the legs of the stool where I perched.
Even my dreams gave me the royal treatment.
Interrupting the admiration of my fashionable attire, a smooth baritone voice snagged my attention. “This one’s on the house,” the man behind the bar stated.
His face was shaded beneath the brim of an old-fashioned newsboy cap only revealing a smile too capable of cutting through one’s defenses.
“One Obsidian Cherry martini for the lady,” he said, sliding the cocktail towards me with practiced ease that didn’t even disturb the glasslike surface of the drink.
Reaching for it, the diamond bracelet remained on my wrist—the same one Ace had bestowed upon me during the tournament.
Wait—the tournament. The Specialty Wager Room. Rip and his two shitheads. The alley…
My breath hitched at the vivid memory.
I looked down, pulling the hem of my dress back to expose more skin higher up on my thigh. There, the damning mark remained. Ace’s spade branded on me. Bold and proud. Totally unapologetic, just like him.
With an annoyed growl, I tugged the dress back down over it. Even my dreams wouldn’t let me escape his obsession.
But it got me thinking…this was a dream, right?
Grabbing the chilled martini, the liquid swayed in the glass dangerously close to the edge. Overhead lights captured the faint tint of crimson swirling in its inky depths. Hooked onto the lip of the glass were two metal cocktail swords, each speared through the same cherry.
The taste exploded across my tongue upon first sip. Tart met sweet in a balanced concoction of booze and fruit. However, it was the lingering warmth of something smoky that gave it that extra something to keep you hooked.
Continuing to internally debate my purpose here, besides looking fabulous, I observed my surroundings. Other patrons lingered in the lounge with me, but faces seemed to pass in a blur. No matter how hard I tried to focus, the features never coalesced into anything distinctive.
“Genevieve.”
The woman’s voice echoed again. This time it sounded like it was coming from an overhead speaker.
I set my martini down with more force than necessary, the liquid splashing over the edge dramatically.
“Oh, for fucks’ sake! Stop saying my name like that!” I snapped as I hopped down from my seat on my barstool. The dress’s black gossamer train swirled around my legs like a dramatic waterfall.
Challenging every shadow and any invisible forces, I added, “At least have the decency to show your face! Or are you too much of a coward?”
In response, everything around me quieted—no bartender, no patrons, no sound. I stood there, staring at an empty lounge, lights dim except for the spotlight cast over the empty stage.
Sighing in frustration, I reached for my drink only for it to pass through my fingers like smoke. Trying again, the cocktail faded altogether, only leaving the impaled cherry behind on the bar top.
What in the absolute fuck was going on here?
Grabbing the cherry, I plucked it off the two swords with my teeth and chewed on it aggressively.
Turning around, determined to find a way out of here, I came face-to-face with Val. I stopped short, my heart leaping up into my throat at his sudden presence.
“Miss Bechette, we meet again.” He smiled with polite pretense, his fingers laced in front of him with casual indifference.
I pointed a finger at him. “You. Is this your doing?”
He gestured at our surroundings. “This? No, this is all yours.”
Then with a nod at my dress, he added, “Wardrobe and all.”
Crossing my arms in front of me, I cocked my hip out to one side and released a huff. “Then tell me what you’re doing here in that case.”
He didn’t get the chance to respond.
“Genevieve, I know you still hear me.”
That damn voice was going to be the death of me. I stomped my foot in frustration. “Shut. Up!”
Both of Val’s silvery brows rose in curious amusement.
The reaction cut through my irritation as my eyes examined his expression. “You heard that too? Who is that? She’s annoying as fuck.”
His response was a contemplative hum. The Drakyn hybrid stepped forward, reaching out until his fingers hovered over the center of my forehead.
“You know who she is. You always have. You just need to remember.”
With that vague nonsense, he tapped my forehead once before disappearing. I blinked rapidly, trying to figure out if my eyes were playing tricks on me, but Val had left me here in this bizarre land of creepy voices and faceless people.
From directly behind me, that same feminine voice purred in my ear.
“Come find me, little echo.”
A hand grabbed my shoulder, spinning me around until I stumbled and fell backward. My ass hit the plush cushion of an oversized chair. My hands grasped the armrests made of charred wraithwood with silver upholstery accents.
When my vision cleared from the blur of shifting surroundings, I found myself staring at a large mirror. Several large mirrors, to be precise. They surrounded me, each one reflecting a vision of myself sitting in this throne made for someone befitting perfection. Someone like me.
As I looked closer, every image differed slightly. These weren’t reflections of my current self. Some were just subtle changes in expressions. Others, however, were more…unsettling.
Leaning forward in my seat, I squinted at one mirror in particular that caught my attention.
What the hell was wrong with my s—
I gasped, bolting upright. The dreamlike state I had been in broke loose, and consciousness crashed over me. My heart kicked at my ribs wildly. My body felt flushed all over, beads of sweat cool against feverish skin.
Frantically looking around, it took several minutes for my brain to catch up and assess where I was. The fog of whatever state I had been in took its damn sweet time clearing.
First thing I noticed was that I was alone in a bedroom. Second? I recognized the room. The amaryllis flowers in a crystal vase sat on the vanity across from me, the walk-in closet to my right, and the bed was adorned with a variety of pillows and blankets in delicate pinks and creams.
My room, or more accurately, the one Ace had prepared for me.