“You already know who I am, Eden,” he answers, his smile morphing into something much more seductive than I’m prepared for. “I’m Nikolai Skotos. But you can call me Niko.”
“You.”
“Me.”
His glare is needles on my skin, and I shiver in my blood-splattered boots. I don’t feel any pain, but that could be the effects of shock or the amber liquid currently churning in my gut. I know better than to trust my own body here. I take a step back to retreat from his speculative stare, and toss the glittering frock on a nearby armchair.
“So you’re the one… You’re the one L was sent to find.”
He dips his head, his ethereal face a mask of calculating malice. Friend or foe, this man has wickedness running through his veins. “I am. And you’ve found me. Or should I say, I found you. Aren’t you lucky.”
“Am I?”
“I should think so.” He strides over to another heavy wooden wardrobe that contains rows and rows of shoes. All high heels of every height and style, from strappy sandals to fuck-me pumps. A low hum radiates from his chest as he contemplates the choices presented, settling on a shimmering gold pair encrusted with rhinestones. The heel is obscene, but I’m not surprised. He sets them down on the chair beside the dress before stopping to stand before me, leaving little space to breathe, let alone challenge him.
“I’m not wearing that,” I proclaim defiantly.
“Well, you obviously can’t go to dinner like that.” He lifts a dark, amused brow. “Pretty sure Carrie chic is not in season.”
“Well, newsflash—I’m not going to dinner.” I cross my arms in front of my chest, resisting the urge to stomp my foot like a petulant child.
Nikolai takes a menacing step forward, entering what little personal space I had left. I suck in a breath, the air suddenly frigid enough to chill my lungs.
“Yes. You are. I could care less about what you want; your petty human emotions no longer matter. Not here, they don’t.”
Funny. They didn’t seem to matter on Earth either.
Despite the truth of his words and the mask of malice on his face, I lift my chin to meet his glare. “You may be right about that, but it will be a cold day in Hell before I play nice and dine with the Devil. I chose to come here, just like I’m choosing to tell you and anyone else who tries to control me to fuck off.”
He doesn’t back down. Hardly even flinches. And just as I’m ready to shrink back from his menacing sneer, he completely disarms me with a bright, toothy grin.
“What is it about me and stubborn, beautiful girls?” he mutters, shaking his head and taking a step back. I finally allow myself to breathe. “Here’s the deal, E. I want to keep you alive and somewhat sane, despite your protest against self-preservation. And in order to do that, you have to listen to what I say and do as I request.”
“And why would you do that?” I question, crossing my arms in front of my chest.
“Because I made a promise to protect a girl, not much unlike yourself. And I intend to keep that promise. I died for it once, and I would do it again.”
I contemplate his words and the passion that flashes across his features. He means what he says.
“Gabriella.”
A single nod. “There’s a reason she took a liking to you. You remind her of herself.”
“You know about that?” I feel the tension gripping my shoulders loosen just a fraction. The Dark Queen showed me kindness and humility at a time when I was vulnerable. And considering her immense power, I can’t imagine any reason Nikolai would do anything to compromise their bond.
He shrugs sullenly. “Imagine seeing everyone you love behind a pane of fogged glass and not being able to break through to them. That’s what it’s like in my unique…situation.”
“Unique situation? We’re in Hell,” I deadpan.
“Not exactly.” He strides to an open chair and sits, his movements lithe and graceful. The resemblance to his brother, Dorian, is uncanny and it’s hard to look at him and not see beautiful glimpses of the Dark King. Honestly, it gives me a glimmer of comfort.
I take the seat across from him, my shattered body sagging into the plush upholstery. “Care to elaborate?”
Those pale eyes become glazed and his elegant fingers draw circles against the tabletop as his mind drifts. “I’m here…yet I’m not. It’s complicated.”
“Try me.”
“Some other time. We have company.”
My eyes dart around the room just as two raps on the door shatter the short-lived silence.
“Come in, Saskia,” Niko announces. The dark-haired impish girl shuffles inside, her eyes to the ground, and bends at the knees for just a second.
“Mr. Skotos. Madam Eden. I’m here to help you prepare for dinner.”
“That won’t be necessary—”
“That’d be lovely, Saskia,” Nikolai cuts in. He points his gaze at me, all signs of mirth erased. “Let her help you. She understands what is required.”
“And what exactly is that?”
“Later. Just…listen,” he warns, his words clipped and low. “Watch. But guard your words. And whatever you do, don’t forget why you’re here.”
He climbs to his feet and heads to the door, leaving me alone with the tiny, soft-spoken servant. She looks so fragile in her drab, floor-length robe enclosed with a tasseled red rope, and the fact that she won’t meet my eyes makes me even more self conscious about my ragged appearance.
Saskia retreats into the attached bathroom and seconds later, I hear water running. A familiar smell wafts into the room, floating on billows of steam. A knot the size of a baseball lodges itself in my throat, and I blink back tears.
“Is something wrong, Madam?” Saskia asks, suddenly appearing beside me.
I shake my head yet my words contradict me. “That scent…what it is?”
“Midnight jasmine,” she answers timidly before searching my face with fearful eyes. “If…if you don’t like it, I can…”
“No. No, it’s fine. Thank you.”
I lift my weary frame from the chair only to stagger back into it. My head is foggy, my ears are ringing, and my vision is marred with fuzzy, black splotches. I suck in a breath through my nose, and smell something oddly metallic, like rust.
“Are you alright?” Saskia rasps, her throaty tone cracking with alarm.
“I think so. Just a little dizzy,” I pant.
“I’ll fetch you some water.”
I watch through glassy eyes as Saskia scurries to the bathroom, her robe swishing across the hardwood. A layer of cold sweat breaks out onto my clammy skin. I lick my dry lips, struggling to steady my rapid beating heart. When was the last time I’d eaten? I can’t even be sure of how much time has passed since I was transported from the mortal world and brought to this hollow underworld. But the last meal I remember having was with…
Lilith.
Her fraud of a girl’s day as she tried to sell me on a faux friendship with ice cream and chick flicks. And I believed her. That’s what makes this so bad. I trusted those fake tears and manufactured smiles. I ate up her saccharine sweet declarations like candy. After turning away from my sister and everything I had known, she was the only thing that seemed familiar and I clung to her out of loneliness and fear.
Never again.
I will never be that stupid, trusting girl again.
With thoughts of her deceit churning in my empty belly, I reach into the bowl of fresh fruit before me and grasp a bright red apple. But just as I bring it to my lips, Saskia appears in front of me and whacks it out of my hand.
“Hey, what the…?”
Boney fingers grip my wrist with surprising strength. The expression on her pale face is fierce as she shakes her head.
“Saskia, let me go.”
She does as I demand, yet brings a single finger up to her tightly pursed lips, summoning my silence. Then she points at the apple on the floor and shakes her head again.
Don’t eat the ap
ple.
Of course. In a world where nothing is what it seems, truth seems to worm its way into legend. I’m not the only Eden with poison inside. And my forbidden fruit may prove to be the deadliest of all.
Saskia reaches over to pluck a few grapes from a vine and hands them to me, nodding. I keep my eyes trained on her as I chew them slowly, forcing them down my parched throat. She could be lying about their safety, but what could I do to challenge her? She’s just saved my life, and she didn’t have to.
After long moments of waiting for a death that never arrives, I follow her to the bathroom to bathe. The water is hot, yet soothing to my aching joints. Once the dirt and dried blood is washed away, I realize that my injuries are completely gone. Not healed…gone. As if they never existed. Maybe I imagined it all. Maybe the feel of broken glass and oil-slick concrete under my ravaged cheek was just an illusion. Maybe the aching echo of betrayal in my chest is only a ruse and I’ll jerk awake any second now, thrashing in a sea of dove gray silk scented with scorched earth and the same fragrance of jasmine that graces my skin.
The sentiment is nice, but foolish, and I empty it from my mind, allowing the creeping sadness to trickle down the drain with the rust-tinged bath water.
Numbness comes easier than I expect as I dress and I prepare for the evening ahead. The distraction of over-teased hair and sequins somehow eclipses the blistering agony of my splintered heart, and I’m grateful to allow Saskia to have her way with me. The dress is exactly my size, unsurprisingly, and even the makeup she slathers onto my skin is in my shade. Dark, glittery eye shadow and thick streaks of eyeliner adorn my lids, while soft, shimmery blush brushes my cheekbones. It’s all very Garfield Park after dark, but I don’t dare protest, even when she slides the six-inch gold and rhinestone-adorned pumps onto my feet. I’m here to play a role. Whore. Captive. Martyr. It all looks and feels the same to me right now.
“All done,” Saskia announces, her rasp tinged with pride. I look in the mirror, and frown. I’ve been transformed into a sexpot, a wicked creature swathed in immorality. So unlike the white-clad vixen I was posed to be for the Watcher. Then, my deviant innocence was a mystery—a tease. Here, my costume promises depravity of the worst, most salacious kind. Here, I am sin incarnate.
I’ve been turned inside out, my corrupt guts bedecked in blood-red gems. I look away, unable to stomach the sight of it, because I know he’ll like it. And a piece of me likes it too. That singular piece of me that he cracked wide open in a bathroom while Legion listened on the other side of the door.
Whore. I’m playing the whore tonight.
“Let’s get this over with,” I mutter, moving to the bedroom’s exit. Saskia follows just steps behind.
“Keep your chin up,” she whispers before my hand can turn the doorknob. “Don’t let them scent your fear, or they’ll eat you alive. And you’ll want them to.”
I nod once, swallowing every reservation, every drop of modesty I have left, and open the door. The hallway is empty, to my relief, but I don’t feel as if we are alone. The sensation of a thousand beady eyes crawling all over my body is overwhelming as I make my way down the long, cavernous passage with measured steps. I silently beg for the shaking in my knees to still. Saskia stays close behind, and when I falter in my hooker heels, she places a reassuring palm on my forearm.
“Easy,” she whispers. “They’re watching.”
“Who?” My wide eyes dart frantically around the room, searching for any signs of movement. Saskia simply points her dark gaze to the art-adorned walls, conveying what I had felt the very moment my attention was snatched by that ancient painting. The walls are alive. And they’re watching me.
The journey to the dining hall seems endless, with only the sound of my rapidly beating heart and the swish of Saskia’s robe to fill the space. But when we reach a set of heavy wooden doors as tall as the vaulted ceiling, panic seizes my joints and I pause, unable to move forward.
“Is there something wrong, Madam?” Saskia questions, her piercing eyes searching my face for harm. Up close, I see that they’re not just dark, but black, her pupils too large to be human. A trail of ice pricks my spine.
“No. Nothing,” I lie. I don’t have the voice or the humility to tell her that I’m afraid. I have no idea what could await me on the other side of these doors. And in my heartbreak and stubborn rebellion, I’m smart enough to know that I am completely alone here. There is no calvary coming to save me. No escape from the monsters that most likely dwell beyond this wall. Even Adriel’s mind compulsion has been rendered useless here.
There’s nothing left for me to have faith in. Not the Se7en. Not some hidden power. Not even my stupid, mortal heart.
I take a deep breath and exhale the crippling fear that binds my joints and muscles. Then, I open the door.
And I see red.
Deep, sparkling blood jewels adorn the floor. Crimson stains the art-bedecked walls, along with tapestries of gold. A table, made of the same heavy, rich wood in my living quarters, sits in the middle of the grand space. Assembled around it are five of the most striking faces I have ever seen. And at the head of the table is the loveliest of them all.
Lucifer.
“Ah, Eden, my love,” he croons, jumping to his feet enthusiastically. His long strides towards me are fluid, as if his feet don’t even touch the ground. Pitch black tailored suit with a matching shirt. Two buttons undone to expose just a tease of smooth skin. He is as I’ve dreamt since I turned eighteen. And everything that delights and offends me.
He gestures toward the table with a sweeping, elegant hand. “Please, come join us. We’ve been dying to see you. And may I say, you look ravishing tonight. I knew once we got you out of those dreadful rags, you’d feel one hundred percent better.”
I look past him and take in Niko, my only would-be friend in the room. He gives me a subtle nod, and I hear his warning replay in my head. I need to keep Lucifer placated. I need to play my part, for all our sakes. And while I don’t yet trust him—hell, I don’t trust anyone—I believe he wants to keep me alive. Even if it’s not for my benefit.
I force myself to follow him, robotically putting one heeled foot in front of the other. There are three young women at the table, whispering and giggling to each other as I approach. Their outfits our similar to mine, adorned with rhinestones, lace and sequins, just with less fabric. Maybe that’s the rule around here: The more naked you are, the closer you get to the Devil’s table. If that’s the case, I’ll trade in my garish threads for a nun’s habit.
“You remember Sandra, Christina, Amanda,” he says, nodding towards the tittering females on the other side of the enormous table. “They haven’t stopped asking about you since that night at Irin’s little party. For a fleeting moment, I felt a little jealous.”
I swallow. The girls. And him. All of us together in that cursed bathroom.
How could I have been so stupid? To open myself to him—to them. What the hell is wrong with me? Complete strangers and I was only too happy drop my panties.
Or did I?
I bite down on the rising embarrassment and take the seat Lucifer has pulled out for me. The one beside him. We’re barely taking up a quarter of the table, and with no one seated on my other side, I wonder if we’re expecting more for dinner.
Lucifer takes his lavish, high-back seat at the head, and smiles. “I don’t like feeling jealous. Such an odd human emotion, isn’t it? One I’ve no use for. So I’ve resolved to never feel it again. I hope you don’t mind the seating arrangements. The girls prefer to stay together at all times, which makes for very interesting bedmates, as you know.”
I shake my head. That’s all he’s getting from me.
“Good! And forgive my manners. Eden, that handsome lad over there is Nikolai Skotos, my guest for the time being. I take it you two have met?”
As if the sound of his name flips an internal switch and extinguishes all kindness from his eyes, Niko’s ethereal features morph into something da
rker, more seductive. His beauty remains, yet there is something sickeningly sinister about his sneer.
He lazily glances at me from across the table and heaves out an exasperated breath. “I think so. They all look the same to me. Did we fuck?”
“Oh, Nikolai!” Lucifer chortles with a clap of his hand. “You dog! No, no. This is Eden. The human girl I’ve told you about. The one I hope to make my bride.”
Niko looks down to study his nail beds, apparently more interested in his cuticles than me. “Bride? What would compel you to do that? Surely you haven’t lost your appetite for variety, my friend.”
Lucifer turns his gaze to me, those ever-changing eyes gleaming with faux fondness. “Ah, but Eden is special. And when you’ve tried as many flavors as I have, you’re bound to acquire a taste for only rare delicacies.”
Niko flicks his pale blue irises to me and shrugs. “If you say so. I’d rather sample all this life’s delicious pleasures.” He reaches over and pinches Amanda who squeals in delight. “Don’t worry. My hunger is ravenous enough for the both of us.”
“Ha! And on that note…” Lucifer waves a hand, and wait staff files out from some hidden door, holding steaming plates of scrumptious smelling food and bottles of wine. A small plate of crostini topped with shrimp and dressed with some type of fragrant sauce is placed in front of me, and my glass is filled with luscious red wine.
“Prawn crostini with English pea pesto, drizzled with truffle oil,” Lucifer announces proudly. “Dig in.”
Even though my body is filled with dread, my stomach growls. I bow my head to pray—a quickly formed habit from living with the Se7en. A sharp intake of breath stops me before I close my eyes.
“Oh dear,” Lucifer cackles. “Not necessary. He can’t hear you down here, and even if He could, He would dismiss you along with all the other unanswered prayers. But by all means, let us not dissuade you from the rituals of tradition.”
I raise my head high in defiance, despite their muffled peals of amusement. I refuse to be their evening’s entertainment. I won’t let them get their blasphemous jollies off at my expense.
End of Eden (Se7en Sinners Book 2) Page 2