by Sophie Avett
She didn’t know how he’d done it, but he’d managed to sweet-talk whoever was running the market’s photo booth into cornering off the back exhibit. Nestled at the very edge of the festivities between the print shop and a small lounge area set up beneath an obelisk window, it was almost hard to imagine there were still a few monsters shopping at the market on the other side of the divide. The space seemed relatively vacant.
Moonlight streamed through the large window, infusing the landscape until it was a blue picture into a magical world of snow and ice. The last damn thing she was feeling right now was the bloody magic.
“I don’t understand why we have to do this now, vampire.” Her hand crept around her amulet as she frowned at the vampire shucking out of his coat. “I don’t understand why I have to be the one to do this at all. Surely there is something skinny and stupid just waiting to smile at your camera?”
Camera draped around his neck, he packed a new box of cigarettes against the heel of his palm. “Don’t be ridiculous, Ms. Karr. Gwyneth normally spends her holidays in Aspen.”
Impertinent vampire. She told herself she didn’t find him amusing at all even as the corners of her mouth twitched. “I told you those mock-ups were too sexy.”
“Yes, you did.” Marshall mashed a cigarette between a terribly handsome smile. “However, considering how I’m the unscrupulous advertising executive in the business of making money, perhaps we could defer to my humble judgment on this matter.”
Something was wrong. Off-axis about his smile. It was cold. Charming in that devilish way that suggested the man standing before her with such ease and confidence was actually just a demon playing a part. But she couldn’t know for sure. She had learned so much about him in the last couple of days, but she didn’t know enough to openly accuse him of hiding something from her. Her frown deepened into a scowl. “And your plan is to what? Pass these out at the market tomorrow?”
“Well, not me personally.” He lifted his eyebrow as if the idea was absurd. “I’ll bribe the children and have them do our evil bidding. But yes, that is my plan. What better test crowd? These are the monsters of New Gotham. The ones with money, anyways. It would be prudent to use the opportunity to our advantage. Not to mention, that’s a Sinister Stitches dress you’re wearing. The possibilities of who might see your ad are boundless.”
Elsa narrowed her eyes, trying to see into his heart—his intentions. Nothing. Just flippant charm and sensual, casual confidence. Perhaps she’d imagined it all together. Glancing at the Santa’s Workshop set on her left, and then at the tropical Christmas—complete with asinine palm trees—on the right, Elsa pressed her fingers to her forehead to soothe a growing knot of annoyance. “Why can’t this wait until we return to New Gotham and you can find yourself a proper model? Don’t I have a fey to catch, anyways?”
The grind of a flint and the snap of a lighter. Followed by the provocative but ultimately acrid scent of smoke. “Provided this relic has Internet service and that print shop has updated their equipment in the last century, I should be able to have a working mock-up. While I handle those arrangements, you’ll toddle up to the room and change for the ball tonight. I’ve been assured this is the event of the voyage and that everyone will be attending. You’ll be able to net our ever-elusive Madame Mari then.”
Swirls of smoke rose and mixed with the scent of powdered sugar, peppermint, and magic. “Later? You seem awfully lax in your determination to find Madame Mari.”
“On the contrary, I will certainly find her if you don’t.” She didn’t miss the small dig and seated a hand on her hip. “I’m not distracted, Elsa. On the contrary, I’m simply using our time together effectively. The quicker I make these prints, the quicker I can get on with the business of making Bits and Pieces a star.”
Yes, yes—all perfectly practical thinking. Good logic and whatnot. All of it bloody useless against the rising tide of unease crawling across her skin beneath layers of midnight blue fabric. She held on to her amulet, sighing heavily. “I refuse to be naked.”
“I noticed.” Marshall closed the distance between them, his eyes dropping in slow perusal. “Hence, the dress.”
Gone was the Gothic makeup, stockings, gloves, and cake-like velvet dress. In place, Marshall had chosen a backless halter number. Sapphire blue satin clung to her curves to fall in a train. Dark, elegant, majestic. A mermaid’s dress. It looked like it better suited a powerful sea goddess rising out of a sparkling blue lagoon.
Fresh faced with the exception of the glitter he’d left on her cheeks and shoulders. He’d left her hair in the frilly twist at the nape of her neck, and she’d rustled a pair of soft gray boots from the depths of her carpet bag. And yet, standing next to her vampire, she couldn’t help but feel naked. Wantonly and painfully naked.
“You look beautiful, Elsa.” Marshall brushed the backs of his knuckles over the curve of her breast, following the plunge of the V neck. Her nipples tightened and Elsa wet her lips. Chest rising and falling in the soft, supple fabric as magic inked it, dying it into a crimson red. And suddenly, she was the Snow Queen, braced against a blizzard only she could cow.
He plucked the little bird skull charm sewn at the apex of the dive. “Elsa…”
His finger swiped the line of tiny shark teeth pendants curving beneath her breasts and they shook and shuddered like water droplets. “You do want to save it, right? The shop, I mean?”
“I am saving my father’s shop…by finding the fey.” She turned her cheek. “Otherwise, I wouldn’t be risking my life on this bleeding ship. It could sink at any minute, you know.”
“Oh, come on, Elsa.” He leaned closer, the camera pressing beneath her rib cage, his breath warm, fanning the side of her neck. “It’s been fun.”
His voice was hot, husky. Sensual and dangerous. Worthy of the cigarette hanging idly from his fingertips. Shivers broke down her spine, gooseflesh rising on her skin in applause.
Elsa’s spine straightened, her grip biting into silver. “I didn’t come here to have fun.”
The corner of his sensual mouth curved. “You surprise me, Ms. Karr. Where is your sense of adventure?”
His tea-sweet breath feathered across her lips and her throat worked. “I used it on this dress.”
He chuckled. Dark and deep. Breathy. Rolling across her senses like a storm on the English moors. “I’ve still got more.”
Odin…curse him. Curse this vampire. She tugged sharply at her satin dress. “I’m not here for adventure. I’m not here for fun.” Fire licked to life in the depths of his gaze and her eyes widened. “I’m not here for…this.” You.
Sultry moans rang out in the relative quiet. Quiet, faint, but there. Sweetening the air with sex. The sounds hung in the air with the deep and raw husky groan that followed. “Quiet, Brenda.”
“Oh, you shut up, your lordship—Alec! There. Right there. Fuck me…right…there.”
“Shall I fuck your rude little mouth shut?”
“Ha! You can try, you bastard.”
“Little bitch.”
“Tyrant.”
He growled. “Mine.”
Her breath hitched. “Mine.”
And then moans. Punctuated by periods of curses, hushed and heated sweet nothings. Elsa and Marshall lifted their eyebrows, their gazes holding as amusement pulled parallel smiles from ear to ear. And then they weren’t smiling. Sweet moans drifted away and they were staring at one another. Openly. Honestly. With true desire. True longing. Elsa’s chest twinged with yearning and she bit the inside of her cheek. “Let’s get this over with, vampire.”
Fifteen minutes later, Marshall had cracked open the package of Madame Kikiyo’s charms. All different, each one unique and special. He positioned her in front of the birch tree, so close a deep breath would press her stomach against the narrow trunk. Arms held out and draped on the thin branches, wrists hanging limp. She was delicately crucified.
He bound her right wrist to the branch with an antique spoon pendant. The
engraving on the twisted stem read: “We’re all mad here.”
“Ms. Karr, why do you want to save your father’s shop?”
“I already told you.”
“Yes, but that’s not the whole truth, right?” He draped a few charms loosely from her wrist up, and then wound a scaled dragon claw holding a smoked topaz around her elbow. “You could save yourself the trouble and auction off all the inventory. You could auction off the inventory and let the bank take the building. Considering the ridiculous amount of stock at your disposal, I’d wager you’d have enough to start over. You could even open a new shop in the inner city.”
“I’m not just going to abandon it. It’s our home.” Her jaw clenched. “Was our home. It’s my home now. And I will not see it fall to ruin.”
“By ‘our’ I assume you are referring to you and your father.” Marshall continued his work, melting snowflakes with his fingertips as he scattered more jewels upon her arm. He used a large black glass cabochon to tie her biceps to the tree. “Were you two very close?”
Surprise. She was not sure why, but his interest in her family was strange. It was not often she was asked such questions. With the exception of Ingrid, she had but one friend, Fenris. Three if she counted her mother. “We were…close. Well, we were when I was a child.”
Marshall worked his way up the other arm. “What happened?”
“What always happens.” Elsa rested her brow against a branch. “Children grow up and make bad choices.”
“A boy, then?”
She snorted. “No. I wanted to return to my mother’s people and join the coven. He did not believe that was a wise decision.” He was right.
Marshall’s fingers drifted over the curve of her shoulder. “You’re obviously very skilled in witchcraft. Why didn’t he agree with your decision?”
It was a hard question to answer. One that would require so much more than she would ever give him. “My father was a very complex man, vampire.”
He laughed. Deep, hoarse. Pained. “Aren’t we all?”
He sounded sad. So terribly sad. She thought back to the agony written on his expression when she’d found him on the balcony. They hadn’t spoken of it. None of it. They’d simply continued on. Changed and content to let the raw moment fade into the realm of the unspoken. “I hate you.” His words echoed in her mind.
She could still see him. Face to the wind, coat billowing around him in black, angry waves as he tore his heart open across the violins. Begging. Pleading for something he couldn’t name. She couldn’t bear to see it then, and she couldn’t bear to see it now.
“My father told me stories, vampire.” She looked over her shoulder, hoping the small smile she offered didn’t look as awkward as it felt. “Lots of them. And riddles, too.”
His eyes softened. “What kind of stories, Ms. Karr?”
“All kinds, but mostly the stories of my people and our gods.”
Marshall pulled a final charm out of the box. Two ravens underneath a glass cabochon at the center of an antique silver-toned winged pendant, it was the largest of them. His eyes fell to her neck. The hairs on her arms lifted and she pulled at the branch. It cracked before she remembered she was bound. “What…what…?”
He raked studious eyes over her and she went completely still beneath his scrutiny like maybe it would save her from whatever conclusion he came to. “Relax, Ms. Karr, I’m only going to drape it around your neck. You can keep the other one.”
Elsa’s stomach unknotted, but she couldn’t take a deep breath, not until she was sure he would keep his word. As promised, he didn’t even touch her amulet, letting the new heavy pendant right itself. It dangled, hovering a few inches above her raven’s wing.
He plucked the strings at the nape of her neck, undoing the ties of her dress, and her eyes flew open. “What are you doing?”
“No one is back here. Well, mostly no one.” She frowned at the mirth in his tone. “And I can’t have the strings marring the purity of my Madonna.” His palm was warm against her back, fingers working into her ribcage like caramel as he pulled the gown, bunching the fabric around the flare of her hips.
Cool air caressed her naked body. For a moment, she didn’t dare breathe. She just stood. Stricken and staring at an impossibly blue sky. She tried to reason with herself. With the growing sense of panic roiling in her stomach. And then a moan drifted up from the behind the board. A painted tree moved and she blinked, sure she’d imagined it.
It bumped again, followed but a guttural curse. Russian coffee, bitter and delicious. “Surrender, Brenda.”
“No,” his mate growled. “Never stop fucking me, Alec. Never.”
He let out a strangled whine, a wolf’s cry of distress, of pain or pleasure. It wasn’t clear which, and Elsa imagined it didn’t matter. Her mind was drenched in the memories of the night before. Of her vampire. He stood behind her, having gone still to listen to the lovers. Was he thinking of her too? Would he think of that night long after she’d given him up? Would he think of it and free that beautiful cock to touch himself to the memory of the glorious mess they’d made of each other?
Her skin warmed. She tugged her bottom lip into her mouth, shuddering, feeling terribly exposed. “Vampire, I don’t want to—”
“Tell me a story, Ms. Karr.”
“Why?”
“It will help me focus.”
She gave him a wary look. “Really?”
He lifted the camera. “Yes.”
Fine. What did she have to lose? Maybe the shiny camera flash would distract her from the fact that she’d let him strip her naked in the middle of a bloody carnival like a three-shilling whore. Do this for Da, Elsa reminded herself, sucking in a deep breath. This is just cake and chocolate. Just cake and chocolate. “Which one do you want to hear, vampire?”
“Whichever you care to tell.”
Dropping the camera to hang around his neck, he rubbed his hands over his face, through his hair. Disheveling the chestnut strands, pulling at them as his palms drifted behind his neck in a stretch. Rakish. Confident and sensual. The ribbon embroidering the side of his trousers and the soft swell of his classical features gave him a boyish appeal. He almost looked fey. Power and sinew rippled in his thighs as he sank to his haunches with grace.
He peered into the scope of the camera, and then lowered it as if he couldn’t quite believe whatever he’d seen. His expression melted into a blank slate, his eyes darkened. “Pardon me, Ms. Karr,” he wet his lips, “but you’ll have to look straight ahead. At least, for the first few shots.”
Elsa blushed so hot and so bright it was a wonder Thor hadn’t simply stricken her down to ash. Snapping her head around, she stared at the snowcapped mountains painted across the horizon in a jagged line and bitterly cursed herself. Get a bloody grip. The ring seated on her middle finger burned with an image of the last woman to peer down the barrel of his camera and know she was finished.
“Is this how you met her?”
Snap! Snap! Snap! Flashes and film coiling to print the next image. “Who? Gwen?”
She narrowed her eyes on a speckle of glitter clinging to the backdrop. “Yes, is this how you met?”
“Yes. She was a model. I made her the face of Spider Shine. The end.”
And yet, she knew it wasn’t so simple. Heimdallr’s bloody sockets, she’d lived and worked beneath them. And the Victorian house turned shop and apartment had every original piece of building material from beam to nail. The walls were thin. Very thin. But maybe hearing him tell the whole sordid tale would remind her why she should never look at him like that again. She opened her mouth to press him further, but he interrupted. “I don’t want to talk about it, Elsa. Just tell me a story. Your favorite story.”
Snap! Snap! Flash! Flash! His boots crunched in the snow as he edged closer. Snap! Flash! Snap! Flash! Every searing white shot of light was fire against her skin and she scrambled for the threads of the tale. “Odin, vampire. Odin and his wisdom. Our god was not born
with his legendary wisdom. He won it…” She told him of Odin’s travels to the Jotunheim, where he challenged an ancient frost giant to a game of wits and riddles. It was there he’d relinquished his eye and gained the wisdom he sought.
The story drew to a close and the vampire lowered the camera, eyes drifting to the raven tattooed in the small of her back. “Odin? Is that what it means?”
“He is Huginn. Thought. He sits on Odin’s right shoulder.”
The vampire stood and braced a hand on the small of her back, palm melting to every contour as if he could absorb the mark through touch. “Thank you for the story, Ms. Karr.”
Elsa barely heard him, she could hardly hear anything, but the sound of her heartbeat and the faint music of the lovers, their cries echoing throughout the picturesque mountains. She was spellbound by his mouth.
Marshall’s eyes sparkled with mischief and the corner of his mouth lifted. “As lovely as the story was, I can’t say I’m very impressed with your Odin.”
Now, that got a rise out of her.
Her chest puffed with pride. Suddenly, she was ready to kick his arrogant ass right through the backdrop. “My god wields a hammer. Your god was nailed to a cross. Shall we compare notes, little vampire?”
“I’m simply saying that if finding all the answers in the world was as simple as answering a few riddles, I don’t understand why more men didn’t try.”
“You underestimate the power of a good riddle.”
“Oh? Do test that theory. Tell me a riddle, Ms. Karr. But first,” he rounded the tree to stand before her, arms linked his hands behind his back, “I’m going to be naughty. Mostly in the pursuit of art. You’ll have to forgive me.”
She opened her mouth to ask what the fuck he was going on about now and he bent and captured her nipple in his mouth. Hot and wet. Sucking and pulling at the string of arousal connecting the rigid pearl deep to her womb. A pulse leapt to life, thumping in earnest, and she mashed her thighs together as she swayed back as far as her binds would let her. “Vampire…”