It was on the tip of her tongue to tell him, but the last thing she needed was for him to think she couldn’t handle the job. “No, everything is fine.” She topped off the lie with a bright smile. “I’m just not used to some of the drink names. They’re pretty gross.”
He kept his attention on the drink he was mixing, heavy lashes shielding his eyes, but not the slight grin curling the corner of his mouth. “I could tell you they get better, but… I’d be lying.”
Riley made a face. “Who came up with them?”
The tumbler made a clinking sound as cubs of ice strike the glass. Octavian bent at the waist and yanked open the fridge beneath the counter. He retrieved a slender, zucchini-shaped bottle in fierce crimson from within. Riley watched as he freed the cork and drowned the ice cubs in thick, red liquid.
“Please tell me that’s not real virgin’s blood.”
He set the drink down in front of her, smirking in a way that made her stomach muscles flutter. “Then I won’t tell you.”
Shuddering in repulsion, she picked up the drink with the tips of her two fingers, set it on her tray. She kept it at arm’s length the whole way to the troll. The man couldn’t even have the decency to wait until she was out of sight before guzzling down the crimson substance as though his next breath counted on it.
It stained his lips and teeth red. It trickled from his chin, soaking his beard which he used his abnormally long tongue to clean up. It too was smeared, sticky and wet, reminding Riley of a bloodied slug. He flashed her a wide grin that made her stomach roil.
“Is there anything else?” she asked, hoping he would say no and let her leave.
“Another and keep’em coming.”
Joy! She thought, but gave him a small, tight-lipped smile and hurried back to the bar.
“Another one, please,” she told Octavian.
She looked over the room, letting her mind stray to anything but red stained teeth and virgin’s blood. She knew it couldn’t possibly be virgin’s blood, but it still grossed her out the way the troll seemed to relish in its taste, going so far as to stick his stubby tongue into the glass and lick it clean. Then again, everything about the guy creeped her out. It was only the sweet thought of him leaving eventually that encouraged her. Besides, how many shots could a single person take before they were under the table anyway? She would just keep giving him drinks until she either had to call him a cab or he left.
That seemed to be easier said than done. By the twentieth drink, he was still as wide awake and alert as when he’d walked in.
“I don’t understand it!” Riley exclaimed, watching him toss back drink number twenty-five. “Where the hell is he putting it?” The guy was three feet tall. He should have been in an alcoholic coma by now.
“Have you taken your break?” Octavian asked instead, wiping down the bar.
Riley checked her watch. “Oh, I guess I forgot.”
“Take one now. It’s quieted down.”
It hadn’t. If anything, it seemed even more crowded than it had been five minutes ago. “But you’ll be alone.”
He waved her concern away. “I can handle it. Go.”
She wanted to argue, to prove that she could handle it, too, but she was exhausted and needed a break.
“Thanks,” she muttered, dropping her pen and pad into the front pockets of her apron and shuffling towards the kitchen.
It was empty. Gorje must have gone home for the evening. All the lights were off except for the one over the preparation table and the staff room. It was blissfully silent as she shambled into the cramped room and dropped into the closest chair. She kicked off her shoes and moaned as her throbbing feet uncurled back to their original flatness. She wiggled her toes and cursed the four inch pumps. Tomorrow she’d wear her flats. They didn’t really go with dresses, but maybe a pair of slacks? She’d ask Kyaerin what the dress code was exactly. The boys were all dressed pretty casual. Maybe she could get away with jeans and sneakers. That would be heaven.
A raised voice from the kitchen interrupted her contemplation. Riley frowned as she rose to her feet, wondering if Gorje was back and if something was wrong. Her stocking clad feet made no sound as she crossed over to the door and peered out.
The kitchen was still bathed only by the single bulb, but she could just make out the two silhouettes by the wood stove. She recognized Kyaerin’s riot of pale curls and Liam’s impressive frame. She began to duck back out of sight, giving them privacy when her name was mentioned and she froze.
“Maybe Octavian is right?” Kyaerin was saying. “Maybe we should—”
“You know we can’t,” Liam interrupted. “Remember what happened the last time?”
“Of course you’re right, darling,” Kyaerin murmured. “But she is such a sweet girl. I would never forgive myself if—”
Liam drew her into his arms, tucking her face into the crock of his neck. “I know, but it really is out of our hands.”
Reggie burst into the kitchen then, interrupting the odd conversation. “Baron’s here and looking for you.”
Even in the dim light, Riley could see Kyaerin lose all coloring in her face as her big blue eyes snapped to her husband. “Liam…”
He touched her hand, soothing her. “It’s all right.”
“Why is he here?”
“Shh.” He brought her slender fingers to his lips and kissed them softly. “I will take care of it. Tell the boys to stand down.”
Kyaerin nodded. “I will.”
He kissed her lightly before following Reggie out the door with Kyaerin a step behind them.
Riley remained where she was, mind racing to put together what the hell just took place. None of it made any sense and the more she tried, the more confused she got. Where they regretting their decision to hire her? Had she done something wrong? But she couldn’t think what.
Moving quickly, she slipped her shoes back on and left the staff room just as the kitchen door opened and Octavian barged in, hands fisted, face set as though ready for war. He looked every inch a warrior at that moment, fierce and powerful, and dangerous enough to tear the head off a lion. The raw fury that lashed off him struck her where she stood, rooting her feet to the floor.
“Octavian?”
His eyes, dark and ruthless swept the room before settling on her. He reached her in two long strides. “Are you all right?”
Cotton mouthed, Riley nodded. “Yes, why—”
The door behind him swung open a second time. There was no sound, but Octavian moved as though they were under attack. He whipped around, simultaneously grabbing Riley’s elbow and thrusting her behind him as he faced the figure that bustled in.
“Octavian!” Kyaerin skidded to a halt, nearly colliding with her son’s chest. Her gaze jerked to Riley and she exhaled loudly, pressing a hand to her chest. “Oh, Riley, there you are.” The other woman moved deeper into the room, letting the door close behind her. “I’m sorry to do this, but we need to let you go early tonight.”
It took all her resolve not to panic as those words sunk home. “Did I do something wrong?”
Kyaerin shook her head rapidly. “Oh no, no! But, uh.” Her gaze darted up to her son’s face before focusing on Riley again. “We have a few too many people on the floor. Gideon and Magnus just arrived and Reggie is here too, and Octavian. Plus it’s not very busy out there right now and we’re nearly closing. I promise you’ll get paid for the full five hours. You don’t mind do you?”
As long as she wasn’t fired and she was getting paid, she didn’t mind at all going home, kicking off the torture devices on her feet and taking a shower. No sir, she was all up for that idea.
She shook her head. “I don’t mind. I’ll grab my things.”
Relief flooded Kyaerin’s pretty face. “Thank you, sweetie! Octavian will walk you out. It’s not safe at this hour.”
She was gone before Riley could assure her she didn’t need Octavian to walk her anywhere. It was only Octavian’s gaze pinned on her face that kept her from gr
umbling and rolling her eyes. It was clear that he was about to take his mother’s offer very seriously.
With a frustrated sigh, she went to the locker and got her coat and purse. She threw both on and turned to find Octavian standing in the doorway, one shoulder against the frame, arms folded. His head was turned away from her as though he were listening for something in the distance. That look of intense concentration was back in his eyes, making her wonder what was going on.
“Is everything all right?” she asked, hoping to get some answers before she was pushed out.
Ever the man of few words, Octavian gave a curt nod of his head. “Yes.”
Riley considered pushing, but thought better of it. The last thing she needed was to get labeled as nosy on her first day.
“You don’t have to walk me out. My car is parked…” she trailed off, remembering too late that she hadn’t brought her car. “I don’t live very far,” she amended.
He straightened off the frame, his face a mask of disbelief. “You walked?”
Riley fidgeted, twisting her fingers in the strap of her purse and averting her eyes. “It’s not a long walk. A block at the very most.”
“It’s the middle of the night!”
It was on the tip of her tongue to assure him she knew how to tell time and even owned a watch to prove it, but as brilliant plans went, it clearly wasn’t her best one. She knew it. Walking anywhere at that hour was stupid. Never mind the fact that she’d be leaving a bar. But the tank was nearly at empty and the five dollars she had to her name wasn’t enough to fill it up. Plus she wanted to save what little gas she had left in case of an emergency. Not that any of this was something she was willing to share with him.
“I can take care of myself,” she replied instead with a sharp tilt of her chin.
Octavian gave a long suffering sigh, one reserved for parents with stubborn children. “I’m getting my coat.”
“I don’t need you to—”
His gray eyes were cutting as they bore into hers. “And I don’t need for something to happen to you!” he barked back. “Come on.”
It was only her curiosity to see what lay beyond the corridor that propelled her after him. She practically had to run to keep up with what to him were probably normal strides. He held the door open for her and let her pass through before motioning her down the narrow path.
There was barely enough room to fit his frame. The walls were mere inches from grazing his wide shoulders, but the ceiling seemed to vanish into the darkness overhead. Riley studied the lettuce print wallpaper in faded red, and wood paneling along the bottom as they ventured into the unknown. There were portraits framed in wood lining either side, but they were moving too fast for her to see the occupants. The air smelled of wood cleaner and time, which was an odd smell. It wasn’t quite mildew or rot, but it smelled like age, like it had seen too much and every moment had embedded itself into the structure. Riley was still trying to put a more definite response to the scent when the corridor opened into a lavish foyer with rich, dark wood and dusty tapestries. Red velvet drapes fell in waves from a doorway across the room. Another set of doors, these ones stamped with stained glass were on the left. A set of stairs wound its way up on the right, splitting off in two different directions at the top. In the center, at the very top of the steps, immortalized forever in colored glass, loomed an angel in all its judging fury. In his pale hands, he brandished a sword that seemed to glow despite the darkness surrounding it, and a shield. He glowered at those standing beneath him.
Riley gulped. “Michael?” she asked.
Octavian glanced at her, surprise in his tone, like he hadn’t expected her to know that. “Yes.”
She nodded slowly, never taking her eyes off the mural. “He looks angry.”
Octavian snorted, starting up the stairs. “He’s an angel,” he replied as though that explained everything.
Riley, not sure what else to do, followed him. “Aren’t angels supposed to be, I dunno, kind? Loving? Not so… judgy?”
His laugh carried through the silence, sharp and brittle. “Only in the bedtime stories mothers tell their children.”
The definite note in his tone made her pause and glance at his back. Didn’t people usually like angels? She certainly never met anyone angry with one. God, yes, but angels?
“Don’t you like angels?” she asked, hurrying to catch up.
He snorted. “Not if you tortured me.”
Not sure what to say to that, not sure it would be polite to press him, she said nothing else as he took the left fork at the top of the stairs and led her deeper into the catacomb of corridors. Riley was beginning to wish she’d thought to bring bread crumbs. No way would she be able to find her way back on her own.
“Where are we going?” she asked him as they passed yet another endless corridor lined with grim-faced portraits.
“My room.”
Caught off guard, Riley tripped on her own feet. She staggered, but quickly righted herself. “What? Why?”
“I need my coat,” he replied simply.
“Yes, but why… why did I have to come?”
He tossed her a sardonic glance from over his shoulder. “I like your company.”
Riley bunched her face in an unimpressed scowl. “You and your brothers should become comedians.”
Octavian turned forward. “The world isn’t ready for our kind of humor.”
“How did I get so lucky?” she grumbled under her breath.
If he heard her, he didn’t respond. Instead, he stopped in front of a set of high, arched doors. He pushed them open and stalked through, leaving Riley to tiptoe just a little over the threshold to peer inside.
The room was enormous. Her entire apartment could easily fit inside and still have room leftover. The floors were smooth marble with wood panels along the walls and lace on the windows that filtered a stream of white light into the otherwise dismal place. A giant four poster bed took up the majority of the space with its dark wood and soft, navy blue covers. Twin nightstands sat on either side that matched the dresser and vanity on the other side of the room. Two cream colored armchairs and a sofa faced a dark fireplace. But it was the massive grand piano tucked away in the corner of the room, barely visible except where the firelight danced across the gleaming surface that caught her attention.
“Do you play?” she asked, pointing.
In the process of swinging on a black, wool coat, Octavian paused and followed her attention. “Not anymore.”
Riley frowned. “Why not?”
He stalked back to her, forcing her to stumble back out of the room. “Because.” He slammed the doors behind him. “Come on,” he said, stuffing his hands into his pockets and starting back the way they’d come.
Curious of the man looming like an impenetrable force alongside her, Riley hurried to fall into step. They didn’t speak as they made their way back to the foyer and the glass stained doors, which, Riley found out, led outside. It had grown cooler since her arrival. The wind was edged with ice that cut upon contact. No amount of huddling beneath her coat shielded her from what was surely the cruel descent of winter.
“You don’t have to walk me the whole way,” she told the silent figure ambling along next to her as they left the dull lights of Final Judgment behind and started up the dirt path towards the highway. “It really isn’t that far. You can see my apartment if you squint really hard.”
“I don’t like squinting,” he mumbled.
“It’s a metaphorical squinting.”
“Even then.”
Riley rolled her eyes. “Are you always so literal?”
He turned his head slightly to the side to peer at her. “Are you always so stubborn?”
“Yes,” she replied with just a hint of pride. “It’s one of my more redeeming qualities.”
“One of? I’m afraid to ask what the others would be.”
“Not sure you could handle the many levels of my awesomeness…” she mused.
; In the dark, she could have sworn she saw a flash of a grin before the shadows swallowed it up. “I’m beginning to see that.”
“Yup,” she murmured slowly. “I’m a cocktail of all the really cool stuff.”
He snorted. “Is telling really bad jokes one of your awesome talents?”
Smothering a grin, Riley shrugged. “One of many.”
“A jack of all trades, eh? How does your husband put up with you?”
Riley barked a laugh. “Husband? How old do I look?”
Night spilled over his face, obscuring his eyes, but she felt them roam over her as he seemingly calculated her question. Then he turned his head forward. “I reserve the right not to answer.”
Octavian's Undoing (Sons of Judgment) Page 6