Chapter 9 #2
“Ah, well, mistakes have been made. It happens to the best of us.” Alixandre raises his glass, and we follow suit. “To old and new friends.”
“Cheers.”
We all take a drink, and I find this flavor of Dead Man’s Drink sweeter than the one we have back home. I quite like it, to my surprise. When I look at our hosts, I notice their pupils fully dilated as they drink, making their eyes even darker.
“We should save some for later,” Désirée says, carefully sipping her drink. “It would be a shame to finish the whole bottle in one sitting.” She picks up the bottle of Angel’s Blood, ready to swap it for another one.
I look up from my glass and find Alixandre’s eyes lingering on me over the rim of his. My cheeks flush with heat as I’m struck by the sudden question of what it would be like if he were to drink my blood. The look he gives me suggests he’s pondering the same thing.
Malakai leans in, whispering in my ear. “Behave, love.”
“Am I not?” I reply, distracted.
Malakai takes my chin in his hand, snapping my face toward him. “It’s not going to happen,” he warns, knowing exactly what I’m thinking.
“You weren’t this possessive of your toys before, Malakai.” Désirée stands behind him, leaning forward and draping her arms over his shoulder. Her tone tells me she’s teasing him, but the way her eyes dart to me makes it clear that she might be as curious as her husband.
It does make me wonder how close the three of them are, especially with how casually Désirée runs her fingers down his chest, which makes me suspect that—at least at some point—there was more than just friendship between them.
My stomach hardens at the idea, and I don’t know if I’m jealous because Malakai lets Désirée touch him or because they have a bond that I never had with another person.
The one time I thought I did turned out to be a lie, and I’m not sure if I’ll ever fully recover from that.
“She’s not a toy but my wife,” Malakai snarls, letting go of me to drop his hand to my leg, holding it in a firm, slightly possessive grip.
Désirée laughs softly and pulls away, only to seat herself next to me once more.
“Then perhaps you should let your wife have a say in the matter.” Alixandre’s eyes move between us, his words hanging heavy in the air.
Malakai looks from his friend to me, seeing the same thought reflected in both of us. “No, this—”
Désirée interrupts whatever he is about to say. She leans closer to me, her words soft and seductive, and I can’t help but suck in a breath. “Tell me, mon bijou.” The nickname makes my already reddened cheeks even hotter. “Have you ever been with a woman before?”
My breath catches at her insinuation. My mind flickers back to Sophia, to what that may or may not have been, and what it could have become if Isra hadn’t killed her.
“Désirée,” Malakai growls next to me, his nails digging into my skin where his hand still rests above my knee.
Désirée ignores him, her cold hand playing with my hair, her fingers gently touching my cheek. “Do you want to know what it’s like?”
My jealousy turns into liquid heat, coursing through my veins like wildfire, and before Malakai can react, I answer her. “Yes.” The word escapes as a breathy whisper, like a secret spilled.
Désirée kisses me then, as if she needed my consent first. Now that she has it, she doesn’t hesitate to claim me. Her lips are as cold as her hand, but her kiss is hot and intense. I open my mouth to her, and her tongue slips inside, seeking mine.
Désirée’s hands find the back of my head, pushing me closer to deepen the kiss.
Despite Malakai’s grip almost breaking my skin, I melt under her touch, and a small, whimpering moan falls from my lips.
That’s when her canines grow, and she nips my tongue.
Blood fills my mouth and hers, and after another moment, she slowly breaks away, licking the blood from my lips and then from her own.
She leaves me flustered, breathing heavily, my chest aching.
“You taste so good, mon bijou. Even better than the Angel’s Blood,” Désirée whispers against my cheek, her sharp teeth grazing my skin.
Before I realize what’s happening, Alixandre and Désirée swap seats. He sits next to me, giving me a meaningful look. I nod, and Alixandre cups my face with his hands, his touch as cold as his wife’s. He angles my head and kisses me as well. Again, there’s that sharp sting against my lower lip.
Alixandre pulls away seconds later, a devious grin on his face as his black eyes shift to Malakai. “She really does taste amazing. No wonder you’re so possessive of her, D.”
Malakai tsks as he pulls me into his lap, clearly irritated. “Happy now, I hope?”
Désirée giggles as Alixandre returns to his seat next to her. “More than happy,” she says, reaching out to trace a finger down my cheek.
I don’t know how to respond or how to react to what just happened. But as Malakai tightens his hold on me and my head starts to clear, a twinge of regret sets in. I swallow, feeling guilty because that was so unlike me and so very unfair towards the man holding me close.
Just as I want to crane my neck to look at him, Malakai kisses the top of my head, and his magic nips at my skin.
My chest constricts for a moment because despite his irritation toward his friends, it feels as if he’s.
.. okay with it? There’s so much I don’t know about him yet, and I can’t wait to get to know him better, step by step, day by day.
“You haven’t been to the Underworld yet?” Désirée asks, genuinely surprised.
We’ve been talking and drinking the night away, and I find myself pleasantly surprised at how well I get along with both Alixandre and Désirée. Their dynamic with Malakai is reassuring and refreshing, confirming that their friendship is genuine.
Alixandre is playful and a total flirt, easily making me smile and giggle. Malakai’s posture suggests he’s slightly annoyed by it, but he lets his friend be. Désirée is bubbly and outgoing, her enthusiasm almost contagious. To my surprise, I actually find myself liking her quite a bit.
I shake my head at her question. “I haven’t been back long, and even before, I never knew about this part of the world.”
“Hmm,” Désirée hums, pressing a finger against her lips, her eyes sparkling. “It must be quite overwhelming to suddenly come face-to-face with all of this. Most of us are born into this life, so it’s all we know.”
“Or too old to remember anything else,” Alixandre adds.
“Anyway, you should ask Malakai to take you and show you around.” Désirée smiles. “It’s quite something.”
“What exactly is the Underworld?” I ask, looking back and forth between our hosts, intrigued. “It sounds gruesome.”
“It’s a world hidden beneath the human realm—a safe haven for inhumans, both pureblood and half-breed,” Malakai explains.
“Is it called that because it’s under this world? Not because it’s an actual underworld, like Hell?” I ask, biting the inside of my cheek.
Alixandre laughs. “It’s not Hell, don’t worry,” he says with a wide smile. “Though the human idea of Hell is undoubtedly influenced by it—rivers of blood, oceans of lava, and all that.”
“But the Underworld is only accessible to those like us. No humans allowed unless an inhuman brings them along. They can’t open the Doors themselves,” Désirée chimes in.
“It’s a place where one doesn’t have to hide who they truly are, which has become increasingly rare over the years. The more humans roam the world, the harder it becomes for everyone else to walk around without needing a disguise,” Malakai explains.
“Even though many inhumans crave a place in the human world, which I don’t blame them for,” Alixandre says, leaning back against the sofa. “The Underworld is, at times, far from a happy place.”
“Oh please.” Désirée slaps his arm. “It’s fine as long as you remain in the cities.”
“What’s outside the cities, then?” I ask, intrigued to learn more.
“The better question is, what isn’t?” Alixandre replies, then abruptly falls silent.
Malakai’s magic lingers against my skin, brooding and annoyed. It’s not hard to imagine the look he’s giving his friend.
“The cities are built as hotspots for inhuman life. Outside them, there’s nothing but death and destruction.
The wastelands are inhabited by creatures that resemble the demons from old human stories.
Nobody knows where they came from, but they’re there and impossible to get rid of,” Malakai tells me.
With every word he speaks, he regains more of his calm.
“For every one you kill, three others take its place,” Alixandre says, raising his glass to his lips. “Believe me, we’ve tried.”
I look back at Malakai, frowning. “We lost a bet. It was fun until there were too many of them, and it wasn’t anymore,” he elaborates.
“One day,” I say in awe, “I want to hear all of these stories.” I glance at Alixandre and Désirée. “All of them.”
Désirée nearly glows at this, bouncing in her seat. “That’s a promise,” she says cheerfully.
“I’ll take you there soon,” Malakai says, wrapping his arms around my waist. “I reckon I need to go one of these days anyway. If not for business, at least for some Dead Man’s Drink. It’s the only place to get it, and you seem to quite like this flavor.”
He smiles, nodding at my glass that holds a second serving—or is it a third? A fourth? I lost count somewhere, with how easily the glass is refilled.
“It’s nice and sweet,” I mumble, heat flushing my cheeks.
Malakai laughs. “Don’t worry about it, love,” he says, giving me a squeeze. “Drink as much as you want. Tonight is about relaxing and letting go.”
He leans in and whispers, his words nearly enough to set me on fire, “I’ll take care of you.”