Chapter Sixteen
Bone
My gown of shimmering gold, like sun on the sand, draped close to my skin. The halter-style top revealed the full-sleeve tattoos down my arms. But Xander had thought of everything. He’d provided long, black satin gloves that reached all the way up and a black velvet, hooded cloak which would hide me well enough. The gown was slit so high, only an inch separated my white lace panties and the top of the revealing cut. I wondered what Xander would do when he realized I had no tattoos on my legs, my only body parts I’d kept free of ink. Well, except for the charm anklet wrapping my left ankle.
Xander had also provided one piece of jewelry, a gold arm bracelet to fit around my bicep in the shape of a sleek cat with a yellow eye. The other adornment was my own. I pressed the two diamond-studded hairpins into the thick coils atop my head. The hairpins sheathed thin, finger-length daggers.
I loved everything he’d chosen for me, but my favorite part of the ensemble was the black leather and lace garter, concealing a dagger sheath on my inner thigh. He’d managed to find a slim scabbard the exact size to fit one of the knives I’d kept in my boots, and he’d already slid one of them into the garter sheath. The man was certainly after my heart.
My final wardrobe accessory was the black Venetian mask, edged in lace, which covered the entire top half of my face, leaving only my mouth bare. With the hood up on the cloak, there was no way to identify me as Bone, the metalworker.
The grandfather clock in the hallway chimed eleven o’clock. I carried the cloak over my arm and my mask in hand as I hurried downstairs to George’s favorite parlor. Xander leaned just outside the door, hands casually in the pockets of his tuxedo pants, his black mask matching my own, though with a masculine sweep across his cheekbones. He was utterly devastating. A breathtaking image of manly beauty. The fact that he was a fierce warrior only compelled me further.
I hadn’t realized I’d frozen in the corridor until he looked up from his pensive gaze at the floor, his mouth falling ajar as his eyes grazed me from bottom to top. They were unusually dark, black as midnight, washing out all of the blue that I knew was hidden behind the stain of the damned souls he carried within him. He’d told me he’d hunt hard before tonight so that he bore the black eyes of a dark demon. It would also surround him in a hellish aura that would convince the party-goers at this masquerade that he was one of them.
Shaking his head, he pushed off the wall and clasped a hand to his heart. “Cruelty, thy name is woman.”
Gathering my poor, scattered wits, I cleared my throat and spoke clearly. “I believe the word is frailty.”
He chuckled low, stalking predator-slow toward me, his heated perusal doing delicious things to my lady bits. “No, love.” His rock-rough voice pierced straight into my chest before it shot south like an arrow from an erotic Cupid’s bow. That, coupled with the smoldering dark of his eyes, and my knees nearly buckled. “Shakespeare never met the likes of you.” He stopped, leaving a few scant inches between us, keeping his hands off me while those dark eyes touched me everywhere. “No words.” He shook his head, snagging on the garter showing on my bare thigh through the open slit. “I must’ve been mad to give this dress to you.”
“Why is that?” I asked coyly. He seemed not to hear me, his gaze burning a hole into my skin.
“I couldn’t wait to see you in this dress. Now I just can’t wait to see you out of it.”
“Well, we have to survive our mission before we can play in bed.”
Finally, his gaze locked on mine. His perfect mouth tilted up in a way that made my heart hitch.
“Oh, we’ll survive all right. If I have to murder every damn demon in that castle, I will. Just to get back home and make you keep that promise.”
He wasn’t joking. And even though I’d never consented—not outright—to furthering this star-crossed relationship, we both seemed to be diving headfirst into it anyway. So I wasn’t shocked by his gaping expression of awe when I said, “It’s a date, hunter.” Lifting a hand, I straightened his black bowtie and pressed a butterfly-light kiss to that perfect, sinful mouth. “Get us out alive tonight…and I’m yours.”
I stepped swiftly into the parlor, hiding my smile at the choking sound he made behind me. I’d finally managed to knock Xander off his perfectly controlled and coifed shelf.
Kat wore a silver gown that hugged her slender frame and a red velvet cloak, the hood up already to hide her tell-tale platinum-blond hair. From her finger dangled a full-face mask in the shape of a silver fox. George looked like a mirror image of Xander, except far more like a gentleman. Xander held the wicked aura of a wolf pretending he meant no harm. I almost expected him to step from the Grimm fairytale and say, All the better to see you with, my dear.
Dommiel and Anya stood near the hearth, speaking in hushed tones, both of them in all-black attire and strapped with blades across chests, backs, hips and outer thighs. When Dommiel caught my entrance, he smiled wide before glancing over my shoulder at Xander, whom I sensed at my back. Then he let out a full hearty laugh.
“Something funny?” I asked, annoyed.
“Yes.” Anya elbowed him hard in the ribs. “Oof.” He smiled wide again at the man behind me. “But I’ll keep it to myself.”
“You look lovely,” said Kat, walking to my side.
“Thank you. As do you,” I replied low, growing uncomfortable with the sudden attention of the men in the room.
It wasn’t that I hadn’t had men look at me with appreciation before, but it had been a very long time since I’d been dressed so femininely. A wave of déjà vu hit me hard, reminding me of the time I walked this earth as a seraph. As an angel offering hope and courage by giving them my song. The memory pricked, lodging like a jagged thorn up under my ribs.
“Right,” said George. “Down to business, shall we?”
With that, George laid out the plan once more. We all listened again to our parts before whisking out of the parlor and Thornton Hall to the outer gate and beyond the wards.
Xander gripped my hand tightly in his.
“Do you have the invitation?” I asked, having fixed my mask and hood in place.
He patted his jacket and tugged me closer. “Don’t worry, darling. All will be well.”
“I hope so,” I whispered. “Or you and I might be sharing a cell in Erebus.”
He grinned in that wolfish way of his. “That doesn’t sound half bad.” Then he banded his free arm around my waist and sifted us away.
The plan was for us to go first, then George and Kat would follow. Axel had managed to steal a second invitation from another fair-haired demon in Vladek’s realm. Interesting that we discovered after Axel’s further digging that most of the invitations had been sent to high demons under Vladek’s control.
Upon sifting outside the gate, we found a line of about twenty guests, their invitations being collected and inspected by a brutish-looking high demon. A half a dozen furies also stood on guard at the gate. Furies were nasty-looking beasts, demonic guardians of the underworld who now trolled about on earth, serving new masters aboveground. They were brawny, with Minotaur-like bodies, eight feet tall. But instead of the faces of bulls, they were boar-like with razor-sharp, finger-long teeth protruding from their snouts, and menacing, yellow eyes that shone with a lack of intelligence and heightened cruelty. The single gleaming black horn at the center of their foreheads pronounced their demonic origins.
Rook and Simian were packing furies and hellhounds, extra muscle to guard their precious cargo in the prison compound erected behind the castle. Though I couldn’t see it from here, that’s where Dommiel had said it was. The very idea of attending a glitzy masquerade while humans were suffering in bleak misery not a hundred yards away made my stomach roil. Such an unexpected reaction. I’d kept my emotions in check, my sympathies buried deep, for centuries now. But ever since Xander had forced me—no, reminded me—of who I was and who I could be again, the door just kept widening further. Like a broke
n dam, I just couldn’t stem the tide now flushing into my heart and soul. It was beyond disturbing, but it was also more lovely than I remembered. Just that moment with Maddie today, helping her in a way only I could, had filled me with a happiness I hadn’t thought to know again. And it was all due to this handsome hunter at my side, who’d stumbled into my life half dead.
His seemingly casual focus was on the crowd and the gate as he tightened his arm, pressing me closer to his side. Two of the hellhounds George had mentioned were chained on either side of the entrance. They appeared to be a demonic form of the Irish Wolfhound. Rather than shaggy gray hair, they had shining black fur under the torchlight. Red-eyed with long, sharp canines, they stood ten times the size of a regular wolfhound.
But the menacing appearance at the gate did nothing to disturb the spirits of the debauched demons in line before us. All in formalwear, one even wearing a top hat, they whispered and laughed, the anticipation of sensual depravity thick in the air.
Xander leaned toward me and kept himself occupied by nuzzling my hood slightly aside, pressing open-mouthed kisses beneath my ear. It was all a show of nonchalance as we made our way to the front of the line, but my stifled moans were no pretense. I was melting into a needy puddle of his making. I knew what these parties were like, and the thought of being side by side with Xander in that sort of heady environment already had my body thrumming and wanting him.
“Invitation,” said the brutish bouncer at the gate.
Xander stopped licking and biting my neck long enough to pull the invitation from his inner jacket pocket and slid it to the doorman. He eyed it carefully, using a special light that revealed in neon a smiling skull icon. It had been invisible to the naked eye, meant to expose any imposters trying to crash the party. Thankfully, we’d stolen real invitations like proper thieves. If we’d tried to counterfeit them, we’d be hellhound meat.
“Enter,” he said, waving us through.
Xander took my hand and led us up the long gravel walk toward the Gothic castle. Braziers lit the drive on either side as guests paraded toward the well-lit fortress. The sound of classical music, certainly a live orchestra if I knew Rook, echoed over the lawn.
“Bach?” Xander arched a brow. “That’s rather surprising.”
“Rook has sophisticated taste in music.”
His features tightened as he gave my hand an involuntary squeeze. “You know him well.”
I stiffened at the animosity in that little statement. “I knew him, Xander.”
He kept his focus straight ahead, eyes sharp. “You were lovers.”
The truth cut me deep when he said it aloud, filling me with the kind of shame that burned, that twisted my poor decision into a pit of regret sitting in my stomach like a heavy stone. I wouldn’t lie to him. Couldn’t lie to him. Not when I wanted what I wanted with him. A thousand more afternoons like we’d had today, when he reminded me of the woman, the angel, the helper I once was. The one who could still put her broken heart back together, piece by piece, and find a new path in this dark, hateful world. A better path. A brighter one…alongside him.
But when he looked like he did now, hatred edging the tightness of his face, black rage filling his eyes, I wasn’t sure that was possible for us. I told him the truth anyway. He could do little more than reject me. I tried to tell myself that wouldn’t matter.
“There was never any love between us.” We drew closer to the entrance of the castle. “But you’re right. We shared a bed…for a time.” He squeezed my hand tightly, his attention ahead of us. “And when I discovered what he was truly like, I left him immediately.”
He said nothing. The thought of him using this to push me away, right when I’d finally come to the frightening conclusion that I wanted him, needed him, was enough to make me vomit right here on Rook’s lawn.
“You know I’m a demoness. Did you think I’d lived the life of a pristine angel?” I huffed a breath, which puffed out in a white curl in the frosty air. “Sorry to shatter your illusions, Xander, but I sure as hell won’t apologize for the path I’ve chosen.”
He jerked me to a stop, black eyes piercing me with heavy emotion. “I don’t give a fuck who you’ve had in your bed, and I’m not sorry for the path you’ve chosen. I’m grateful for it. Because every step you’ve taken, including sleeping with that”—he gestured with a tight sideways nod of his head toward the castle—“piece of shit has led you directly to me.” He dipped his head lower, his mouth close to mine, white breath mingling together. “It matters little who touched you first, because I, darling, will be the last.”
Then he kissed me so fiercely I stumbled back a step. He caught me by the waist with one hand, slipping his other hand around the base of my neck, his fingers curling at the bottom of my skull before angling my head so he could go deeper. And deeper he did go, stroking with a savageness I’d never known and would never forget. Someone whistled and laughed as they walked around us, gravel crunching.
“Save it for inside, lovers,” some stranger said as they walked on.
He didn’t hear them. No. Xander was pounding into me a message I’d keep with me forever. That he’d just claimed me as his one and only lover, from now until…when? I couldn’t even register the claim he’d just made and decide what I thought of it because his lips, mouth, tongue, and fierce grip on my body were stamping home the truth of the matter. A truth I didn’t realize until this very mind-reeling moment—that this man, this demon hunter, was meant for me. And I was meant for him.
When he parted from my lips, I trembled for more than one reason. I couldn’t formulate words to respond to what had just happened. He loosened his grip on me, sliding his hand across my neck and up to cup my chin.
“That’s right, darling. No words.” He dropped his hand and gripped my mine again. “My actions will be enough.”
Then we were marching toward the house again. Dark opulence greeted us inside. Dimly lit chandeliers and tiered candelabras cast the large hall in a dreamy glow. Black silk draped in swathes and sashes from every chandelier and over every window, even curtaining off a few well-placed niches for semi-privacy along one wall. Red rope ties pulled open one side of the drapery to reveal the entertainment inside. Typical Rook-and-Simian fare. Inside the first was a bound woman—a human, seemingly willing, for she bore no sign of possession in her wide, blue eyes. Her demon master had her hands tied together in front of her, her pale, nude body leaning over the back of a red velvet chair, her knees on the cushion. He used his riding crop to pop and sting her flesh, leaving a pink line on her buttocks. She flinched but made not a sound as he trailed the crop tantalizingly up her spine.
A few of the guests had stopped to enjoy the public displays of sex play in each niche. One niche held two women, another two men and a woman—all three enjoying one another—and the last displayed a single demoness dripping melted candlewax on her own skin and burning herself with the candle flame in places that made me cringe in pain. Leave it to Rook and Simian. These were just morsels to whet the appetite. And they provided every possible flavor to please their guests.
I glanced up at Xander to find his expression stone-hard, his posture more rigid than I’d ever seen him. He was a man of casual grace and easy charm, but not tonight. Of course, a demon masquerade would put any demon hunter on edge. But something else seemed to plague him. The sexual appetizers didn’t make him balk in the least. Nevertheless, with every step toward the great hall, he stiffened at my side.
The great hall was long, with a wide red-carpeted staircase at one end, which split to each side into narrower staircases continuing to the second floor. The room was made entirely of rich, dark wood, the ceilings decorated with ribbed vaulting and Gothic points. A second-floor balcony jutted out farther into the room, held up by Gothic buttresses that looked like the bones of ancient dragons and beasts. The orchestra—all human—played from a dais in one corner of the large hall. Guests danced and congregated on velvet settees along the wall, some of them
partially disrobed, others fucking their partners openly already.
“It’s early yet,” I said, looping my arm around Xander’s and pulling him close. “For things to already be heating up.”
“No, darling,” he crooned softly, sounding almost like his normal self. Almost. “We’re late, if you recall.”
True. We’d decided to arrive shortly before the time we were to go to the Obsidian Gallery. The less time we were in this place, the less chance we’d have of being caught.
“Do you see either of them?” asked Xander as he led me up the grand staircase.
“No. Do you?”
As if on cue, a maniacal laugh echoed from the far end of the great hall. Simian stood in a white tuxedo and a red, cat-eyed mask. But no one could mistake that long black hair or insane laugh. He was barefoot and had two high demons, one man and one woman, down on their knees literally kissing his feet.
“That’s right,” he bellowed loudly over the music. “Keep going till I tell you to stop. Then maybe I’ll forgive you.” He put a hand in the hair of the woman, clutching her blond locks and jerking her head back. “I’ll have your woman kissing something else before we’re done.”
My stomach knotted in pain, remembering how he’d tortured that other man decades earlier, forcing him to watch while he raped and murdered his wife. All because of some alleged insult the man had given him at the party. I couldn’t even remember what it was now. But the thought of that night where Rook pinned me on his lap and forced me to watch the debacle because he thought that kind of malevolence turned me on, made me want to run from the room. And the castle. And all of England. Truth be told, I loathed Simian and Rook with an undying intensity. I’d pretended I was indifferent to the apocalypse, but I’d always been rooting for the humans. And those angels or hunters who’d helped them. I was no lover of malice and evil. Never had been. But I was afraid. Afraid to care too much and watch those I loved be treated foully. I couldn’t care that deeply and not be cut into shreds myself. The pain was too great.
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