19. Dangerously （Un）dressed #3
He held it out for me to take, tipping it back and forth so the substance glittered in the shadowy light. I blinked, shaking myself out of a trance. As much as it was tempting to take, I needed to keep my wits about me.
The waiter leaned toward me. “The owner of this establishment told me to give it to you,” he whispered conspiratorially. “He’s watching us right now and wants to talk to you about how you feel after you take it.” He licked his lips suggestively.
Sibrain Cortz is the owner.
I tamped down the urge to look around for him, not wanting to give myself away and appear suspicious. The waiter pressed the iris into my hand. “He wants to know if the Bear of the North is strong enough to . . . handle its effects.”
“How magnanimous of him,” Tarantula sneered behind me, condescension dripping from his mouth as he whirled the liquid slowly in his jasmine petals, clearly trying to blow our cover. “She won’t be taking it—”
I dumped the sparkly powder onto my tongue. It was chalky and a little sweet.
“Tell him thank you,” I said coyly as I leaned toward the waiter. “And that I’d love to give him my gratitude . . . in person.”
The waiter breathed raggedly as he stared down at my partially exposed chest. “Go get your owner.” I swiped a napkin off his tray.
Pretending to dab my mouth, I discreetly spit the drug into it and shoved it into an empty cup.
The taste still lingered on my tongue. Hopefully it’s not that potent in small doses.
Nodding absentmindedly, the waiter turned and disappeared into the darkness of the room.
I motioned to the twins, feeling triumphant.
Ella had already wandered away. She stared glassily up at the tree lights like she’d never seen lanterns before, sipping her wine. Axel had moved across the room, leaning against a hanging root, two handsome men close on either side of him.
How did they move so fast?
A faint buzzing tickled my ears from the small amount of the drug that had lingered on my tongue, but otherwise I felt fine. Or did I?
Sighing, I debated, Should I wait or explore?
“Ravenal, what was that?” Tarantula’s face hovered next to mine. A gust of icy wind blew down my spine, and my skin pebbled. His breath smelled sweet, like sun-ripened grapes and . . . deplorable sins.
“That was me completing the mission,” I said as I studied the room, fantasizing about a world in which he didn’t exist. “Or have you forgotten why we’re here?”
I stepped forward.
Tarantula followed, looming behind me like a possessed shadow.
“Did thou enjoy having his filthy eyes all over your flesh? Was it enjoyable, how he debased thee with his attention?” he asked darkly, breath wafting across the side of my face as he leaned hazardously close. “Do thou enjoy cosplaying as a common tramp?”
“I’m in long sleeves and full pants.”
Wind whispered across my neck, down my chest, stomach, and then brushed across my sensitive inner thighs. Pleasure exploded, heat burning in its wake as Tarantula caressed me with his dark magic.
He’s taunting you.
I whirled to face him, finger raised.
“Don’t talk to me about decency when you took a creed that aspires to nothing but slaughter,” I whisper-shouted in his face, still not over the fact that the dire bears could be purposefully murdering Northerners.
“I’m here to complete a mission . . . so be a good little hostage.
” I looked pointedly at his shackled wrists.
“And keep your violent presence, and your magic, away from me.”
He stared down at where my finger pressed into his bare chest, buttons open on either side, and then dragged his eyes up to mine.
“Thou cannot fathom the sacrifice that my creed entails,” he said coldly as he leaned forward, pushing his bare skin against my finger.
“At least I know what I’m fighting for. Thou live in a house of glass, Ravenal, propped up by spoon-fed propaganda.
” He exhaled roughly. “Do thou ever tire of your misplaced righteousness?”
Chemicals rushed through my bloodstream.
Scents sharpened and colors swirled in geometric patterns; Tarantula’s face congealed, curls melting, rivulets mixing with his mask; the cobalt spider crawled slowly across his jaw, fangs snapping at me; a butterfly flew up his chest.
Apparently the drug had a very high potency even in tiny doses. Why am I always surprised by the disastrous events of my life?
Tarantula’s eyes widened as he studied my face, like he could tell something was wrong with me but wasn’t quite sure what.
I leaned closer so our lips ghosted across each other. “You can pretend with everyone else,” I breathed out into his mouth. “But I’m the only person who sees you for exactly who you are.”
He slowly turned his head, his warm lips grazing the side of my face, leaving a trail of heat. “And what have thou condemned me to be?” His magic brushed across my throat, caressing my scar.
“A prude.”
His teeth ground together as he flushed.
Bullseye.
I turned on my heel.
He grabbed my arm, voice dropping to a gravelly rasp. “The hedonistically inclined lower classes chase pleasure anywhere they can get it.” Wind slowly trailed up my calves, flowers of pleasure blooming in its wake. “Zora Ravenal, art thou a hedonist? Is that what thou want . . . from me?”
“I want nothing from you.” I tried to yank my arm out of his grasp, but he stepped closer.
He bent forward at the waist so we stood eye to eye. “Tell me, Ravenal, do thou believe in soulmates?”
“What?”
“Do thou believe?” he said coldly.
“Why . . . would you ask me that?”
“It’s a yes or no question.”
“No.”
“Good.” He dropped my arm, his eyes sharper than broken glass as he stood tall. “Very good.”
I walked away.
This time he didn’t follow.
Colorful flowers bled into streaks of pastels as the leafy vegetation morphed into endless kaleidoscopic patterns. The lower I sank, the higher I flew.