Chapter 24 #2
Before long, the artist calls me over to approve the sketch, and moments later, I’m in their chair with the stencil on my skin, my nerves making me almost sweat. My magic doesn’t help either, just adding to the tension with a tingling sensation. I can’t tell if it’s nerves or excitement.
I swallow hard at the sight of the tattoo gun in their hand. “You good?” they ask, and I nod. “Just let me know if the pain becomes too much, and we’ll take a break.”
They put the gun against my skin and start. The sting from the needle makes me bite my lip for the first few seconds, but I quickly adjust. We chat a bit, and Désirée joins in as well.
Before I know it, the artist leans back with a satisfied smile. “All done,” they proclaim.
Désirée steps up to take a look and whistles. “Oh yeah, he’s definitely going to lose his shit when he sees it.”
I grin widely at her, and the tattoo artist looks between us, confusion on their face.
“Her husband is the possessive kind, so this…” Désirée gestures to the tattoo, and it clicks for the artist.
“It’s been a while since I had the opportunity to do one of these tattoos,” they say. “Not many still hold to the custom.”
They give me a moment to admire their work while they clean up and disappear to the back of the store.
“I’ve wanted a tattoo for the longest time,” Désirée confesses once we’re alone.
“Then why don’t you?”
“Can’t stand needles,” she admits with an embarrassed smile. “It’s the only thing I can’t stomach, no matter what. Watching is fine, but the feeling of it piercing my skin…” She shudders. “Freaks me out.”
The tattoo artist returns from the back and goes over the aftercare instructions with me.
“Can she drink alcohol while it’s healing?” Désirée asks from behind me while I pay.
“Sure,” they answer. “Your natural healing abilities should already be kicking in, so it’s all good.”
“Wonderful,” Désirée sings. “Then we’re having a girls’ night out.” She loops her arm in mine again, and the artist waves at us as Désirée almost drags me outside in her excitement. “Come on, I know the perfect place we can go,” she says.
“I…” I briefly hesitate, biting my lip. “I’ve never gone out for drinks before.”
Désirée comes to a halt so abruptly that I almost bump into her. “Are you serious?” she asks, clearly shocked.
“You’re my first friend in a… very long time.” I shrug and smile to downplay the lingering sadness in my voice.
Désirée regards me in silence for a moment, then pulls me into a hug. It’s so sudden that I don’t know how to react initially.
“I’m glad to be your friend,” Désirée whispers once I hug her back, her voice overflowing with emotion. “I don’t have many either.” She lets go, but I notice her blinking away a few tears.
“How come?” I bite my lip, hoping I’m not overstepping by asking.
She looks at me wide-eyed, caught off guard by my blunt question, then laughs and resumes walking. “The longer you live, the harder it is to maintain a lasting friendship,” Désirée explains. “Even harder when you’re pureblood or when you’re way up there in the hierarchy.”
She pulls me closer, her eyes sparkling with joy. “But I have a feeling our friendship is going to last. Dare I even say it—forever.” She winks as we reach the stairs and start to ascend.
A smile curls my lips until I glance at the city below. Something catches my eye, and I stop mid-step.
“What’s wrong?” Désirée turns to me. She follows my gaze but doesn’t see what I’m seeing.
“Isabella,” I mutter.
“As in Evans? The human woman who married into the family?”
I nod, frowning as I follow Isabella through the streets. “I thought humans couldn’t enter here by themselves?”
“They can’t. Is she alone?”
“Yes, but it looks like she’s meeting someone.”
Isabella hugs a woman, and it’s not the following kiss that makes me gasp but the woman’s hair color. Red. I rush back down the stairs, Désirée yelling my name behind me. When I don’t react, she appears right in front of me just as I reach the last step.
“They’re already gone,” Désirée says, her expression dark and grim.
“You’re sure?” I ask, wanting to check anyway.
“Let me.” She holds her hand out to me, and I take it.
There’s a rush of wind, and the next moment, we’re where I saw them. The speed at which we moved has my stomach heaving, and I need a second to collect myself. But then I see she’s right; they’re already gone. Traces of magic linger in the air, indicating they transported.
“This isn’t possible,” Désirée mutters, and I look over to find her frowning, nibbling the side of her finger.
She feels me looking at her, drops her hand, and says, “You can’t transport in or out of this place. That’s why there are Doors.”
My eyebrows nearly meet my hairline at hearing this piece of information. “Can purebloods?”
Her frown deepens as she thinks, then shakes her head.
This doesn’t make any sense. Something clearly isn’t right. Not only is Isabella, a human, entering the Underworld alone, but is she also having an affair? And a woman with red hair?
It’s unrealistic to think this is a coincidence—especially when the family stands to gain the most if Malakai loses his business.
I should tell him, but he won’t take the betrayal well. If I’m wrong and they’re just friends…
Biting my lip, an idea begins to form. I crouch at the spot where the traces of magic from the transportation spell are strongest. With my own magic, I ensnare some of it.
Improvising on the spot, I isolate the magic.
I manipulate it, twisting my magic creatively.
Eventually, their magic accepts mine, and I merge the two.
My ice-blue wraps around the faint traces of pale green, and when they click, a sense of familiarity washes over me.
The combined magic crackles in the air as I lift my left hand, and it twists itself like a ring around my middle finger.
Then it sinks beneath my skin and vanishes.
The next time she uses her transportation spell, I’ll know and be able to find her.
I let out a breath, rise, and turn to Désirée.
“Drinks?” she asks, looping her arm back in mine.
“Yes, please.”
Désirée guides us back to the stairs and up to the human city, to a bar not far from Caner’s restaurant.
“You went to Caner’s?” she asks when I tell her. I nod. “Lucky you. I’ve wanted to go there forever, but we can never get a table.”
“Can you even eat there?”
Désirée looks at me, confusion clouding her face.
Then she remembers. “Oh, sorry. I sometimes forget you’re still new to this life.
” She gives me a sheepish smile before continuing.
“Yes, we can, though it’s not advised. Our bodies aren’t built for human food anymore.
But every now and then, we make an exception—on special occasions.
A table at Caner’s would be such an exception. ”
“I’ll ask Malakai to take the four of us there for a double date,” I promise her. The idea of us going out together makes my heart flutter, and a smile breaks out on my face at Désirée’s reaction.
“For real?” Her black eyes sparkle with joy, like a night sky filled with stars.
My smile turns into a grin, almost embarrassing in its width.
I nod again, and she squeals in joy as she pushes open a door.
We enter what looks like a typical bar, but even in the dim light, I know the patrons are far from human.
We take a table in the corner with a bench that wraps around it.
Barely two seconds later, a woman appears beside us.
She has tanned skin, dark brown hair in a braid over her shoulder, and eyes the same black as Désirée’s.
“My Queen,” she proclaims with a bow. “Such a joyous occasion for you to grace us with your presence.”
“Please, Amaryllis, you know I come here as a patron, not as a queen,” Désirée says, sounding slightly embarrassed.
Amaryllis straightens at those words. “My apologies, my Queen.”
“Amaryllis,” Désirée reprimands sternly.
“My apologies.” Amaryllis swallows, clearly unsettled. “Désirée.”
Désirée nods in approval, and a smile appears on the vampire’s face. “What can I get you guys?” Her posture relaxes instantly as she speaks, back in her element.
Désirée orders drinks: a sweet peach-flavored Dead Man’s Drink for me and a virgin blood and Dead Man’s Drink cocktail for herself.
I don’t ask if the virgin blood is actually virgin, not wanting to know despite my initial curiosity.
The drinks arrive minutes later, and we quickly dive into conversation about anything that crosses our minds.
“Tell me, mon bijou, how would you feel about us sharing you?”
Désirée’s question nearly makes me choke on my drink. Her chin rests in her hand as she chuckles, watching me struggle through a coughing fit.
“What?” I gasp once I’ve regained my composure.
“You heard me.” Désirée smiles. “And I don’t mean blood drinking. Though that could be part of it, if you’d like.”
My cheeks heat at her insinuation—her very clear question. Am I curious? Definitely. Would I actually dare to try it? Maybe…?
“Are you embarrassed?” she asks, noticing the conflicted emotions crossing my face.
“Perhaps a little? It took me a while to get used to… well, to Malakai, to be honest.”
“Oh, I can imagine.” Désirée snickers.
“Sex with someone other than your husband… It’s still strange, even though Malakai is my husband. It took me a long time to accept that.” I’m rambling again, aren’t I? I know it’s weird coming from me, given my past.
“What do you mean?” Désirée asks, taking a sip from her drink.
I look at her, puzzled. “Didn’t… Malakai tell you?”
She shakes her head, swallowing before taking another sip.
“Oh, okay, this is awkward.” There’s a spark of curiosity in her eyes, and I know I’ve come too far to turn back now.
“My first husband abused me for most of our marriage because I couldn’t give him a child.
When he grew tired of me, he paid someone to have me killed.
Instead, they sold me to a whorehouse, where I spent the last years of my life. ”
A mix of anger and sadness crosses Désirée’s face. She reaches out and gives my hand a soft squeeze. “I’m sorry,” she says, and I can tell she means it.
“Don’t be. In a way, it’s what needed to happen for me to become who I am today.”
“Did you at least make him pay?”
“Oh, I most certainly did.” I laugh.
“Good.” Désirée’s eyes shine with approval as she squeezes my hand again. Then her eyes go distant for a moment before she says, “I couldn’t have children either, back when I was an earth witch.”
I swallow, my chest feeling heavy as a brick, not sure how to react, seeing how Malakai already told me. But I don’t have to. Désirée blinks a few times and says, “Malakai probably told you.”
“He did,” I say with an apologetic grin. “I’m sorry.”
She shakes her head. “Don’t be.” A soft smile plays on her lips. “Is it weird to find it comforting that you know what it’s like?”
Now it’s my turn to shake my head. “No.” I swallow down the lump forming in my throat. “It’s a comfort for me as well.”
We look at each other for a long while, all the pain and suffering we had to live through passing unspoken between us. We could talk about it, but it’s clear that we both don’t have the need—at least not right now. But Désirée is right; it’s a comfort, and right now that’s all we need.
Désirée gives my hand another squeeze, then lets go and waves Amaryllis over to order another round of drinks. They arrive again within minutes, making it clear that the vampire is trying to impress her queen.
“Please tell me we can at least tip her after this,” I say as Amaryllis returns to the bar.
“I will. Perhaps I’ll even invite her to our next party. It’s been a while, and she’s fun to have around.”
I chuckle. “I can’t get used to how normal this is for you.”
“You should try it sometime. It’s quite liberating.” Désirée leans back in her seat, the look in her eyes making it clear she would love it if I were to join them.
“Something tells me Malakai won’t be okay with that.”
“Oh please.” Désirée bristles. “He’s such a hypocrite. He attended plenty of our parties back in the day.”
“I guess marriage changed him, huh?”
“Oh no, mon bijou,” Désirée says with a sly smile. “Marriage didn’t change him. You did.”
“How so?” I ask, frowning while I bite my lip. I can’t imagine I changed anything about him, especially not with how he keeps pushing me away.
“He cares more than he lets on. He just doesn’t know how to show it since he’s never had someone to care about—until you, that is,” Désirée tells me, her eyes sparkling.
I gulp in a breath while I lean back in my seat, letting those words sink in, trying not to show her that they hit me like a jackhammer.
My impression was that it was freedom that changed him, but what if it’s more than that?
What if, despite how he sometimes acts, Malakai truly changed because of me—as much as I have because of him?
What if we really are both just horrible at communicating our feelings, resulting in both of us being stuck in an emotional limbo?
Yes, we really do need to talk. Desperately.