CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR
Myra
Together, we made our way inside, opting for the stairs to avoid contact with anyone else, given the state we were in. The stench of our smoke-saturated clothing followed us all the way to the fifth floor and into his place.
As soon as the door shut, he began explaining.
“The easiest way to gain access to Loreleia is at her club. It’s a discreet, invite-only club for those who don’t wish for their…
activities to be widely known, for various reasons.
” The expression he wore punctuated his explanation in a way that told me I really didn’t want to know more about it.
But I had to.
“What kind of activities?” I asked. Given the suggestive way he arched an eyebrow at me in response, I quickly put two and two together. “Wait. Are you saying it’s a sex club?”
“I didn’t say anything,” he argued, “but effectively, yes, it is. And more…”
“I really could’ve done without that plot twist,” I muttered to myself as I tried to rally.
If Argo was right, this would be our final push to find his sister and my last stop before returning home—a fact that should have had me ready to do anything to accomplish the task.
The fact that it didn’t sent my mind wandering down a dangerous path.
With a shake of my head to get it back on track, I turned to Yael.
“If this place is invite-only, how are we getting in?”
He eyed me strangely for a second. “I was thinking the front door, maybe?”
“Yael, be serious! This isn’t time for your shenanigans.”
“I am being serious.”
“So, you’re saying you have an all-access, members-only card?
” To my surprise, he nodded like that wasn’t a dubious response, and my blood pressure began to skyrocket.
Everything about this sex club conversation was starting to anger me, and the last thing I wanted was for him to notice; we didn’t have time for a sidebar about why that was.
“Well, that’s good to know,” I continued, “but I don’t imagine that, once we’re in, we can just walk up to this bitch in front of who knows how many people and use my power to demand your sister’s whereabouts, so I’m guessing you’ve cooked up some clever way to get her attention. And I want to know what it is.”
“The ‘clever way’ is to blend in to our surroundings until she makes her rounds, then corner her and subtly get the information we need. It’s dark in there, and those in attendance tend to be rather… preoccupied with their own endeavors, so that shouldn’t be too difficult.”
Warmth radiated through my core at the thought of Yael’s and my body intertwined in a dark corner, and I turned away from him so he couldn’t see the flush of color painting my cheeks. “You want me to blend in… at a sex club… with you?”
“I suppose you could try to join in with others instead, but that might get a touch awkward when it comes time to interrogate Loreleia.”
I tried to slow my breathing so the small part of me that wanted him—the one I’d fought day and night for the past few days to silence—wouldn’t give my desire away.
Because Yael knowing would be an absolute nightmare.
I hitched my hip onto the back of the couch and folded my arms across my chest. “Tempting, but I think I’ll pass. I prefer the devil I know.” I dared a look at him and found a mischievous grin spreading across his face.
“I’m flattered. Now, we’re going to need to clean up and change into something a bit more appropriate for this encounter.
” He headed down the hall, and I fell in step behind him as he led the way to his room.
“There’s a special plant in the bathroom that can heal the burns on your stomach.
You’ll want to use it before you shower. Trust me on that.”
“Duly noted.”
“And now for something to wear…” He opened up his closet, where an innocuous cardboard box sat on the floor.
He placed it on his bed and began rifling around inside of it while I tried to identify the contents; from what I could tell, it just looked like a mishmash of clothes and other personal items. He muttered something to himself as his arms went still, seemingly finding whatever it was he was looking for.
Then his stern gaze found mine. “Before you have one of your epic meltdowns over this, know that I’ve chosen something as conservative as possible from Jemma’s wardrobe because I know how much you cherish that precious virtue of yours.
” Before I could even start to bombard him with questions, he pulled something black and holey and far too small to be an actual article of clothing from the box and held it up for my approval.
“There are garments to go underneath,” he said, undoubtedly hoping to stave off my panicked response. “I just haven’t found them yet.”
I stared open-mouthed at the dress—if that scant amount of fishnet latex could even be called that—unsure of where to even begin my objections. “Yael—”
“Remember that the goal here is to blend in—”
“Yael—”
“—and as much as I do adore your extensive jeans-and-t-shirt collection, they won’t cut it for this particular endeavor—”
“YAEL!” I shouted, cutting off his rationalizing.
He assessed me for a moment, then said with deadly seriousness, “should I see if I can find the red one instead?”
“The red what?” I asked, pointing at the latex nightmare. “That is not a dress! It’s a piece of glorified cling wrap! There’s no way I can wear that thing.”
“You can and you will because you must.”
“I might as well walk in naked!”
He looked thoughtful for a moment, and I realized how poorly chosen my argument had been. “Well, I suppose that’s an option too—”
“No,” I replied, snatching the ‘dress’ away from him, “it absolutely is not.”
His expression fell to one of exhaustion as he raked his hand through his tousled hair, sending ash floating to the floor. “Myra, please try to see reason—”
“Says the man arguing that I should wear a stretchy piece of swiss cheese to a sex club!”
“I’ll be with you,” he argued, as though that were at all helpful. “Nothing will happen.”
“Oh, I know it won’t, because I’m not wearing that.”
“You can wear a coat over it until we’re inside, if it makes you feel better. It’s so dark at Loreleia’s that nobody will see you, not that they’d be looking anyway.”
“Oh, good. I feel so much better now.”
His brows furrowed. “I’m sensing some hostility from you about this…”
“Noooooo, really?”
“... and sarcasm.”
I took a deep, calming breath so I wouldn't reflexively throat-punch him while he tried to figure out a new tactic. My nerves were already frayed from everything we’d survived that night. Who knew that wearing a scrap of fabric would be my breaking point?
“I promise I’m not doing this to torment you, love.
I wouldn’t have even suggested it unless it was absolutely necessary—which it is.
But it’s not like you’ll have to wear it for long,” he argued gently, “and once we’re done there tonight, we’ll be done.
If all goes well, I'll get Jemma back, and you can return home.” Something faltered in his expression for the briefest moment—so brief, I barely even noticed.
But it looked wrong on him somehow. Like sadness.
“It’ll all be over. Just like you want.”
I hesitated for a moment, unsure of how to respond because something hung heavy in the air between us, making it hard to breathe, and I feared that if I acknowledged it, the carefully stacked house of cards we’d built out of mutual necessity would come crashing down at the worst possible moment.
And the longer he looked at me like that, the more my resolve began to crumble.
“Good,” I replied as I squeezed the wadded-up dress in my hand. I turned on my heels and headed for the bathroom to escape his piercing stare. “When you find those undergarments, toss them in the bathroom for me so we can get this over with.”
I closed the bathroom door behind me, leaving Yael—and the feeling that something between us had most definitely changed—on the other side.