Chapter 22 The Cat is Backstage At The Maison
The Cat is Backstage At The Maison
DELILAH
“Hold still, woman!” Hex growls under his breath. He’s kneeling behind me as he works on painting the liquid latex stripes one by one. “If you don’t quit the bloody wiggling, you’ll not get done before people arrive this evening.”
“Whose brilliant plan was it to have him a damned fetish party again?” I mutter as I sip one of the fruity martinis Philomena has been serving.
“Ours,” Leo replies, pinching me as he passes.
He hands me a mini egg roll, and when I pout, he sighs and pulls the suspiciously red dipping sauce from behind his back.
“You know, your new eating habits have forced me to develop an all-new system in the refrigerator and rethink a lot of my recipes.”
I give him an angelic grin and a shrug. “If it helps, AB- congeals the slowest.”
Rolling his eyes, he continues passing the appetizers out—sans special dipping sauce. “It does not. Molecular gastronomy is terrible, but I’ll keep working on it.”
“I checked on our early arrivals,” Sandrine says as she comes in.
Her hair is wet, and she’s wearing one of the household robes Hex designs for each occupant.
Hers has a superhero-like spider across the back with a K-bar through it, and the name on the front says ‘Champagne’.
I have the urge never, ever to ask about its origin.
“They are staying away from the pool house, lab, and workshop as instructed?” Philomena asks.
She’s sucking on a cherry from the martini, waiting for her turn in a chair.
She’s also wearing one of our robes, and I chuckle.
Hers says ‘Duchess’. We look like we’re all at some ritzy spa in Switzerland.
It’s hysterical.
I pale. “We did clear the... ahem, guests from the north from the lab and outer building so no one ‘accidentally’ lets them out?”
Leo chuckles and walks over to ruffle my hair.
“Juliet, I promise that all of Mercury’s creations are contained for the duration of the party.
We moved them to the sacred space and tightened the wards as instructed.
No one goes in or out that isn’t our family.
I also checked to make sure we’d added Twist to the wards so he can run about without setting anything off. ”
“I shut Buzz up tight unless we need him,” Sandrine adds, plopping into the makeup chair. “I’m going to get finished next so I can go downstairs with Leo and C to help in the kitchen and listen for more early arrivals.”
I sigh in relief. “Thank Christ. The bugs creep me out, but I only let them live there to make Mercury happy, since Lily gave them the old Canadian boot. I guess Twist is a nice repayment for that.” I smirk, looking over at the ferret resting on top of Aradia in the bay window seat of our master bedroom.
Siren joins us, looking calm and collected in her robe.
Hers is satin and the color of blood, but there’s no name on it.
I wonder why for a moment, but lose track of thought when she speaks.
“Speaking of early arrivals, I have settled the bouncy blonde’s family in their rooms. I heard the cars before they reached the alarms, so they did not set them off. ”
I roll my eyes. This is why we held the party at the Maison and not the house I share with my mates.
That’s our haven away from the chaos of my ‘constituents’, but also, given their habit of arriving days before the party starts, would violate the ‘appropriate behavior’ clause and Talia would kill people.
Siren heard as Michaela and her crew roared up in a caravan of muscle cars and flash.
I turn towards the mirror, inspecting the carefully applied goo Hex is finishing up.
I look like the design on our pre-party sketches.
Besides the feather, my wicked boots, and some purloined royal jewelry, all I’m wearing is the latex mini dress.
It covers the right things—that’s a magickal assist—but it looks like little is.
“Have Lily and Mercury arrived yet? It seems like the pattern of early folks is leaning towards the oldest members.”
“Not yet,” Leo answers.
Philomena arches a brow. “Hopefully, the Speedway crew have on better costumes than the miscreants yesterday. Otherwise, we will all be overdressed.”
“Michaela’s so sweet that I can’t believe she has a fetish that extends any further than her love of cars and wrestling. She’s dressed like a puff of cotton candy or something,” I grin, peeking over at my primary.
Rafe smirks as he finishes Caesar’s hair.
His fishnet shirt and leather pants are so tight that I’d believe he painted them on.
I know he didn’t, but his lithe form moves like velvet.
He reviews his supplies and then goes to work on Sandrine.
“That sounds about right, love. Are you ready for your transformation after Tank Girl here? Our mates will be here soon, and you’ll want to be ready. ”
I feel it through our bond, so I know he’s right.
Boy, they will go ape over his clothes and hair.
His long locks are down; his hair is wild and wavy with leather ties and adornments, like he’s stepped out of a dystopian movie.
He has kohl-rimmed eyes and a new set of leather cuffs and collar that make him look wild, dangerous, and delicious.
I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again.
The man can paint a picture.
Giving him a fierce, knowing grin, I nod. “Yep. I have to be before more people arrive. Are you sure this looks good?” I spin once since the finished paint is still drying.
Hex snorts as he looks up at me. “Bloody right, it does. His vision, our work, and once you add in the rest of the house, we’ll look like we stepped out of the classiest fetish ball in Europe. It’s fitting, given the double of the evening.”
I chuckle and walk over to where Caesar is busy buckling all his gear.
Quiet but brilliant, our little submissive housemate is all but invisible sometimes unless he’s needed.
I drop a kiss on his cheek as I admire the swirl of colors my primary has dyed into his undercut.
“Looking good, love. Is that a new leash?”
He smiles and looks over at Leo and Sandrine. Leo is still working on the food up here, and Sandrine is getting a ponytail look that will match the naughty schoolgirl outfit. “Brand new.”
Siren walks over to me and tilts her head. “Do you have everything you need? I will be in the chair after you, but I am happy to assist while we wait.”
Shaking my head, I head for the pitcher of martinis. “I’m good. You know that costume of yours looks more like Lady Dewinter than a Victorian. Did you change your mind?”
Her lips curve. “Hex suggested I might enjoy myself more as a scheming French opportunist than a Victorian wench. Also, it meant I could find places for lovely weaponry. I found it quite fitting.”
“It is. Hex is skilled.”
Face inscrutable, she murmurs, “More than he gets credit for, I fear.”
She walks away, and I frown, trying to puzzle that one out.
Everyone talks about how amazing Hex is.
He’s like a crafty TV channel and fashion designer who had a full-grown man for a child.
I’m about to ask her, but Sandrine leaps up from the chair, bounding over to Hex. “Hey, mister, you got a lollipop?”
He rolls his eyes and points at his stool. “Sit, you maniac, and don’t be disturbing.”
I look over at Rafe, and he grins.
We love this little family time.
Pulling me over to the vanity, he steps up on a small stool to get a higher vantage point.
My boots have high heels, and I can’t sit while the latex is drying.
He needs to see my entire head to do my hair.
I growl as he rats it up none-too-gently—which he ignores—and prepare myself to feel like I’m being scalped.
Within minutes, he’s twisted it up into a spiky fan of hair that’s pinned tightly enough to make my face hurt. “What the hell are you doing?”
My primary arches a brow, reminding me that question is verboten when he’s styling us, and continues pinning, spraying, and detailing.
I close my eyes, letting him work for a while without protest. I’m trying not to wince and garner his wrath, but I smell something awful.
My eyes pop back open, and I see him spraying colored accents that make my hairdo look like a peacock’s tail.
I forget how talented and creative my primary is until he does things like this that wow me all over again.
Rafe is an artist—with hair, with makeup, with normal art supplies—in every medium.
His work is passionate, creative, beautiful, and heart-rending, but his talent is unsurpassed.
Looking over at my family, I smile. “You all look hot, you know.”
Hex is in ripped leather with more straps and buckles than the swing that used to hang from the ceiling in here while Leo is in silk.
He looks suave, like a romance novel hero to Sandrine’s schoolgirl.
Philomena is putting on her bespoke Domme outfit, and I can’t help but worry that the heels on her shoes could be lethal weapons if someone irritates her by breathing.
Caesar is trussed up and ready with his colorful hair, leash, and leather.
The only one I haven’t seen yet is Victor.
He’s waiting until the very last minute to reveal his choice. It would amuse him to shock even me when he joins the fray.
I squirm a little, feeling anxious and unable to shake a gut feeling of dread about the crowd that will be present. Rafe pinches my chin, drawing my face back, so he continues working on it. “They’ll be here soon, love. Let me finish so we can greet them.”
Philomena strides over, and I see her riding crop dangling from a specially made sash at her waist. Did I mention I’m concerned about some people? I offer her a wary look without moving my face. “Did you get all the signs and arrows on the doors earlier?”