by Amy Sumida
I grimaced at the dress that happened to already be in my hands. I wanted to shove it back in the closet, but my father had taught me to choose my battles wisely, and I knew I wouldn't win this one. It wasn't worth fighting, to begin with. It was just a stupid dress. I yanked the cotton dress off and pulled on the silk. It had no other embellishment; just a perfect cut and a rich color that reminded me of Torin and Darc's eyes.
“Torin,” I whispered as I ran my hand over the silk. “Darc. I'll get back to you; I promise.”
“How long does it take for you to put on a dress?” Slate's voice sliced through the wood door.
I yanked it open and glared at him. “I'm hungry.”
“Are you now?” Slate's eyes heated as his hand reached toward me.
I stood my ground despite the instinct to back away, but he only took my arm and steered me down the hallway.
“You can eat at the Quarry again,” Slate said as he moved me through his office.
“I can walk on my own,” I pointed out primly.
Slate released my arm abruptly. “Then hurry up; we're going to be late. It's eight o'clock, and I want you onstage at nine.”
I sighed deeply but followed Slate down the stairs and outside Building 1. It was strange to stand on the packed earth in high heels. Strange to wear silk while I stared at the sand of the training yard. I felt like a bird in a cage, but it wasn't the cage I called love. And this wasn't one of the men who lived inside it with me.
I clenched my jaw as Slate opened the passenger door of his Maserati for me. I hadn't noticed before that his windows were tinted. I have no idea why he bothered with the tint; everyone knew the Zone Lord's car. The foot and car traffic parted for it; people literally jumping out of his way as he rounded corners.
Oh, right; he didn't like to be watched. Except for me; he didn't mind me watching. My cheeks flushed with heat as he navigated the zone roads.
One of the bouncers waited in front of the Quarry for us and parked the car while we headed inside. The club was already packed, and Slate had to steer me through the crowd. Not that they hindered him; beneathers parted for him there just as they did on the streets outside. But I wasn't a part of the Slate package. Not until he pulled me against his side and slid an arm around my shoulders. Then, suddenly, I became interesting.
People looked at me; remembered me. They stopped moving for Slate; shifting into his path instead. To meet me; the spellsinger who had wowed them the night before. The same one who'd been dominating the arena. They asked if I'd be singing again tonight, if I was fighting tomorrow, and if Slate and I were really a couple. Slate answered all of their questions for me; the last one with a vague and aggravating, “She's mine.”
Nope; I didn't like that answer.
“I'm yours?” I growled at Slate as soon as we were in the privacy of his lounge. “What the fuck?”
“We're an item now, remember? And even if we weren't, you'd still be mine.” Slate strode behind the bar and picked up a phone. “Dinner for one.” He hung up and turned back to me. “Do you deny that I have control over you?”
Oh, that stung. My jaw clenched, my stare narrowed, and I spat out, “You're damn straight I deny it.”
Slate prowled around the bar as if he were about to prove me wrong.
“You may control my magic, Devon, but you don't control me,” I snarled into his face as soon as he was within touching distance.
Slate's breath sawed in and out of his flared nostrils as he stared me down. “It didn't seem that way earlier today.”
“That was an accident,” I whispered. “I thought I was in my bed at home; with Banning. I thought you were him. You've got a similar build, okay?”
“I don't mean you rubbing my dick,” his voice was a guttural growl; his face a mere inch from mine. “I mean the way you moaned in your sleep until I had to shove my finger deep in your pussy and make you shut the hell up. Well, you screamed a lot at first, but then you went quiet.”
I blanched and then flushed. “That was real?”
“I've never heard a woman come like that; a sort of growling scream. Guttural and sweet all at once. It suits you.”
Slate leaned into my neck and breathed deeply. His pelvis pushed into mine; just enough to show me that I affected him too. I shivered; images flashing through my mind. His eyes above me, the sheet fluttering as his hand moved beneath it, his lips lowering...
Slate's warm lips brushed over mine in the exact way they had in my dream.
“Oh, Gods,” I whispered in horror. “I betrayed them.”
Slate stiffened and pulled away. “It was just a little fingering. You didn't betray anyone.”
“A little...” I gaped at him. “Really? If I were yours, and I did that with another man—”
“You are mine!” Slate roared. “You can't betray them here because there is no 'them' here. Do you understand me, Elaria? You're mine within the Zone. I am God here, and I own you.” He grabbed my collar and pulled me forward with it. “Tell yourself whatever you want to ease your wounded pride, but the truth is; the man who controls your magic, controls you. You can fight me and what your body feels for me, but it doesn't make an ounce of difference. I could take you now if I wanted to, and you'd be powerless to stop me. I could bend you over this table, pull up that skirt, and fuck you until you made that growling scream again.”
“Then why didn't you fuck me this morning?” I snapped. “If I really am yours; why did you tell me to run?”
“Because I don't rape women!” Slate shouted. The words echoed around us, and he looked startled. He took a deep breath and tried again, “I'm not a rapist. I don't like crying women carrying on about how I took them against their will. I like my women eager and anxious for what I can give them.” Slate leaned in and took a deep breath. His eyes closed and he shuddered as he growled, “Wet. Writhing. Wanting. When you finally realize that you want me too—when you say the words and make it clear that you know what's between us and that you want it—then I'll fuck you. I'll make you mine in every way.”
“That's never going to happen.” I was proud of my steady voice. If only my hands would stop shaking.
A hesitant knock sounded on the door.
“Enter!” Slate snapped as he glared at me.
“Your dinner, Sir.” A nymph came in with a tray of food.
She looked back and forth between us—still glaring at each other—and set the tray down on one of the tables near the door before she scrambled out of the room.
Slate's glare shifted into a self-deprecating smile. “Look at us,” he murmured. “We're so fucking hot for each other that we're about to tear each other apart.”
I looked away.
“You can't deny it, Elaria,” he whispered as he slid a hand around my waist. “Not after this afternoon. You want me.”
“The needs of my body have nothing to do with the needs of my mind. Or my heart,” I said coolly. “It doesn't matter how much I want to fuck you because I don't love you, Devon. When my heart isn't involved, I can resist anything; anyone.”
“We'll see about that,” Slate said softly; all of his heat gone. “Eat your dinner and then head backstage. You're on in twenty minutes.”
Slate strode out of the room, and I breathed a sigh of relief. Leave it to the arrogant zone lord to shove it all in my face instead of doing the polite thing and ignoring what was brewing between us.
Fuck; it had been real. I had betrayed my lovers. I was a cheater. Slate was wrong; I didn't belong to him. I belonged to Torin and Banning and Declan and Gage and Darc. Five men and I still couldn't be true. You'd think the Rooster Spell was still inside me. But no; the Rooster was dead. This was all me. The knowledge was a fire beneath my skin. I made a mistake but it wouldn't happen again.
I was going to put an end to this disastrous attraction.
Jago had said that I wouldn't be there forever; that must mean that I could still earn my freedom. I had to prove my worth to Slate in his club since he'd ta
ken the arena away from me. I needed to show him that I could work the crowd as well as I worked him. Then maybe, I could use that to bargain for my release.
Tonight, I'd keep my eyes away from the Zone Lord when I sang.
Chapter Twenty-Five
The crowd was thicker tonight, and I was surprised to see a lot of gargoyles among the other beneather races. When I spotted a familiar face, I knew just who I was going to single out.
It was always good to have one or two men in a crowd to sing to. It made the ladies happy that I wasn't macking on their men, and kept the other men from hitting on me after my performance. I had concentrated on Slate before; working his whole we're-an-item angle. But not tonight. Tonight, it was business, and I needed a substitute.
Instead of coming out swinging, I decided to start with a sexy and fun song by Bishop Briggs. “Baby” was naughty and wild; a woman in love with a man she knew was bad for her, but he rocked her world like no one else. When the tapping slide of the music started, I caught Jago's eye and lured him closer. He edged his way to the railing of the second tier on my left; bringing his head to the height of my knees.
I winked at him, and Jago grinned brilliantly.
I started to sing; swishing my hips and making my way slowly to Jago. Beneathers filled the dance floor in seconds; moving back and forth to the gentle beat. Then they saw my focus and went wild. Great music to dance to—to move in their souls as well as their bodies—was amazing, but nothing stirred the emotions like sex. And I was about to tease them with it. Weave a lie over the crowd that would leave them salivating.
I swayed down to a crouch and leaned forward; drawing a hand through Jago's silky blond hair as I sang to him about how good in bed he was. Good enough to make me forgive how fucking insane he was. Jago's eyes went hot, and he swayed to the music with me; his hand sliding up my thigh to my waist. I could see the question in his eyes; How much of this is real, Diva? I winked again, and Jago laughed; just the smallest bit of disappointment coming through. He was my safety net; a man I could flirt with onstage who wouldn't try to hunt me down afterward. It would do great things for him too, and Jago knew it; the women were already staring at him with interest. Make a guy look wanted, and he became so. Jago's pretty face didn't hurt either.
I determinedly kept my eyes on Jago; as if he were the only man in my world. Despite my focus, I could see Slate out of the corner of my eye; standing at the window again. His body looked tense; tight with fury. I nearly laughed. As much as I had intended this to be about business, I couldn't seem to help myself. Slate had pissed me off and turned me on. So, Jago was going to be my sign to Slate; a big banner proclaiming that he would never own me, and I would never want him enough to betray my lovers. Again.
Gods; that stung. But maybe it was good that it had happened. It would keep me from making an even bigger mistake. I straightened—drawing a finger beneath Jago's chin as I stood. I kept my eyes on him; pretending to sing and dance just for him. For his part; he leaned against the railing and accepted it all as if it were his due. He smirked and looked me over as if he knew every inch of my body intimately.
And the Quarry ate it up. By the time I finished the song, they were singing along with the explicit lyrics; calling Jago crazy but so hot that it didn't matter. Lamenting with me about how something so bad could look so good. Jago couldn't have been happier. He nodded at me; letting me know that he owed me one and then slid back into the crowd to reap the rewards of his assistance.
Oh, yes; this was going to be fun.
Hours later, Jago had helped me out three more times and had finally chosen his prize for the evening. He waved me a thank you as he headed for the door with a mermaid; the Earth variety, not the water fey type. I accepted my applause and headed offstage; sweaty and exhilarated. Eli was waiting for me again, but before he could say anything, Slate's voice boomed in the hallway.
“Cole; get lost!”
Eli glanced at Slate then gave me an apologetic look and scurried through the door beside the stage steps and into his control room. I turned to face Slate and flinched.
The Zone Lord was shaking with fury; veins standing out on his neck and a nerve ticking in his cheek. His eyes were beyond burning; they were like lasers. Every footstep was a gunshot. Every breath a battle cry.
I stepped back, but I forgot that I was standing on the stairs. I stumbled. Slate's hand shot out and grabbed me around the waist; yanking me to my feet and then down the stairs. Except he pulled so hard that I simply fell off them; right into his arms.
Slate caught me and turned with one movement; slamming me against the cold stone wall. I was already warm from the stage, and Slate was burning with anger; it felt as if steam should be rising from where my skin met stone.
“Are you trying to force me to force you?” Slate snarled as he shoved his entire body against mine. “Do you want this? Right here; in this dingy hallway? You want me to take the choice from you so that you can blame me for it?”
The side seams of my dress ripped as Slate shoved my legs apart and hoisted my thighs around his hips. He ground his cock into my sex; hard. Even through his pants, I could feel it twitch. Slate's mouth covered mine and before I could protest or even gasp, he stole the breath from my lungs. His tongue lashed against mine brutally; filling my mouth in a kiss that was more of an attack than affection. One hand pawed at my breast viciously as his hips started grinding into me.
Then, suddenly, everything changed. Slate's hands gentled. His tongue pulled back and started to tease. His lips softened. Slate moaned into my mouth as his hand started massaging my breast; his thumb brushing my nipple. I could feel his rapidly pounding heartbeat against my chest. It was incredible—mind-blowing—but not enough to blind me again.
As soon as he eased up, I angled my head away and said firmly, “Stop.”
Slate tensed. “Don't do this,” he whispered. “Don't play this game with me. I warned you how it will end.”
“I'm not playing,” I said firmly. “I can't do this with you. I wasn't trying to make you angry tonight, Devon. I was trying to show you that I don't want you enough to hurt the men I love.”
He dropped me as if I'd burned him.
I stumbled but didn't fall. My dress fell though; in taters around my thighs. I smoothed it down as I tried to still my racing heart.
“I'm sorry if I gave you the wrong impression.”
“The wrong impression?” He growled in disbelief.
“All I was trying to do was show you that I'm not beaten.” I lifted my head and met his stare. “I'm not going to be yours in every way. Find another woman to slake your lust on.”
Slate's eyes twitched; narrowed. He grabbed my hand roughly and started walking down the hallway. I let him pull me along but I didn't go quietly.
“Where are we going?”
“To a private party in my lounge,” he snarled. “You are going to wear that ruined dress proudly and blush when I allude to the way it got torn. You're going to hold my hand, my waist, my damn dick if I decide to whip it out, and you're going to smile as if you want to.” He stopped and stared me down. “Because you do want to, Elaria. We both know you do.”
I glared at him and stayed silent. Nope; I wasn't going to win this battle either.
“Frederick and Allan have already spread the word that I've got a new woman who's so important to me that I go driving around the Zone like a teenager trying to find a place to make out with her. That's not me. It would take a damn special woman to make me into that man. So, you will be that woman, and you will be a loyal one. No one makes a fool of me in my own zone and certainly not in my own club. Understood?”
“Yes,” I whispered.
So, that was it. It wasn't that Slate wanted me so badly it had driven him to rage. It was that I had made everyone think I was choosing Jago over him. His pride had been hurt, not his heart. I knew all about pride and how a leader needed to retain his; how he had to look powerful if he wanted to stay in power. If I di
dn't make things right, Slate might very well kill me simply to save face. Then his monster secret would be safe too; two birds, one stoner.
I slid my hand up from his to clutch his arm possessively. “I'm a very good actress, sweetheart,” I purred.
The tension left Slate's shoulders instantly and his smirk returned. “Wise decision, Spellsinger.”
Slate walked me up to his private lounge and my second show of the evening began.
Chapter Twenty-Six
I entered the lounge to applause. My eyes widened at the collection of well-dressed beneathers and the smiles they wore. Slate guided me around the room once; introducing me to the Zone's most influential residents. Yes; residents. The Gargoyles weren't the only ones who preferred to live below ground with other beneathers. The Zone had whole sections that were dedicated to housing.