Body of the Crime (Blackest Gold Series Book 2)

by R. Scarlett

  He leaned in closer, one cool hand running up her spine to grip the nape of her neck. “You seem tense.”

  Her nails bit into the leather seat. “This feels like my death march.”

  Tensley’s forehead creased, eyebrows dark and naturally perfect. “Going to the party does?”

  Her chest tightened. “Yes. I’ve only been around you and Illya—not a large party of demons.”

  He rubbed a finger along her bare forearm in soothing circles. “I just need to make a quick appearance. My father requested you be there, but you don’t need to talk to anyone. We haven’t announced the engagement yet.”

  Yet.

  “Is Fallen going to be there?” Molly squeaked, trembling under Tensley’s roving finger. The hairs on her arm stood up, but Molly was sure it had more to do with possibly seeing the demon king again than her fiancé’s caress.

  “No, he’s of too much importance to attend our work parties—not that we’d want him there anyway.” Tensley snorted, leaning back against the leather seat so that it creaked under his sizeable frame. Molly eyed the demon, noting the dark circles on either side of his enviably straight nose, the frown lines tracking down his tanned cheeks. She wondered if he’d been struggling with insomnia as well.

  She leaned back against him, tensing for the response she now expected: Tensley’s retreat. It’d been a battle the last two weeks since Abaddon; if she got too close for Tensley’s liking, he’d move as far from her as possible.

  Doesn’t stop him from tormenting me with random fondling, Molly fumed. Sadist.

  Molly shuddered at the memory of the high-class demon who had wanted her all to himself. They’d killed him—the image of life leaking from her psychotic redheaded captor was one she’d never forget—but he was still alive in her nightmares.

  Molly had taken to sleeping in fifteen-minute intervals, oftentimes jolting awake drenched in a cold sweat, reaching frantically for some nonexistent weapon to protect herself with.

  There was no finding comfort in Tensley, either; he still hadn’t forgiven her after that stunt with Cree, and she understood why.

  She just needed to earn back her fiancé’s trust, figure out how to find Cree and get through the next few hours.

  First things first.

  Molly scooted away from Tensley in tiny movements, watching the blur of yellow cabs and flashing marquees whiz by.

  “Are you angry with me?” he murmured after a brief pause.

  Molly tilted her head back to answer, observing the way Tensley’s lips now curved into a frown. “Not at all.”

  “Good.” His calloused fingers traced her stiff jawline as he swiftly swung her legs over his.

  Molly gasped. This is what I want—the closeness she had finally succumbed to desiring, her longing for a beast of a man who could break her in one breath.

  Except they both knew, now, that she could break him too. She could quite literally stab him in the back when he least expected it.

  Trust me, Tensley, Molly tried to convey with her gaze as she toyed with his perfect white buttons. I won’t hurt you again.

  God, he smelled good. A hint of cologne, dark and masculine, and something else—the muskier fragrance of his sweat.

  His hand ran up her leg like a whisper and met the rolled up fabric, dangerously close to revealing her. It moved farther up her leg, and when he teasingly squeezed the top of her thigh, she tightened her grip on his shirt. “Eager, dolcezza?”

  It was when his fingers moved down the column of her throat and passed over her collarbone that she flinched.

  Damn it.

  His eyes narrowed before pressing the spot again, lightly, but still enough to make her cringe.

  “You’re bruised,” he ground out.

  She shooed his hand away. “I fell. An accident. I didn’t tell you because I knew you would freak.”

  “That went well, didn’t it, darling?”

  “It’s a bruise, it’ll heal.”

  His features rearranged into a decidedly more erotic expression. “Can I heal it?”

  “Uh—” She didn’t have much time to protest before his mouth had descended onto her collarbone, each demon kiss equipped with biochemicals that could seal cuts and erase bruises, leaving only smooth, supple skin in their wake.

  A throaty moan escaped as Molly curled her finger into his back of packed muscles, endorphins pinging through her bloodstream as the heat between her legs grew.

  God, just his touch and I’m on fire.

  His teeth nipped at a tender spot and she cried out, lost in him entirely.

  He lifted his head when he was done and she eyed him, pressing her fingers to the freshly healed skin that had been replaced by his own faded mark.

  “You bit me.” She hadn’t meant for it to come out so breathless, so clearly interwoven with shock and arousal.

  “And you liked it,” he said with a flash of teeth.

  Predator.

  He was a predator.

  And I’m his prey.

  It was a reminder she didn’t need, of the way those demons could decimate her body in a blink, erase her very existence—

  “Stop worrying,” Tensley said, brushing a few curls off her cheek. “They can’t do anything to you—not without my permission.”

  She glared. “Oh, how noble of you.”

  He chuckled. “Just one night of obligations and we can go back to the way it was before.”

  Oh, joy. More small talk about nothing and awkward visits? Can’t wait.

  She turned to look at him, watching him rub at the dark circles beneath his stone-gray eyes with a huff.

  How has he been getting strength? Has he been seeing other women? Molly wondered. She wanted to be the one to make him strong, not some random girl in a bar.

  “Tensley, I—” Molly started, but the car rolled to a stop before she could complete her apology.

  “We’re here,” Tensley said, already out the door in a whir of black Armani silk.

  MOLLY LOOKED THROUGH the tinted windows and swallowed; the white townhouse before her glowed, a magnificent structure rising up behind a garden of pruned Callery pear trees dotted with iridescent blooms.

  It was the same house where Tensley had ripped a warlock’s heart out for insulting him.

  Tensley opened her car door and she took his extended hand, gripping it a bit harder than necessary. The townhouse looked welcoming enough with its elegant iron gate and dark green vines cascading down the stone, but she knew what hid behind those gold-trimmed doors.

  The bitter scent of the Callery trees burned her nose, their pungent odor only worsening her nerves.

  Tensley moved with grace and confidence to the entrance where a young man dressed in a black suit let them in. Tensley didn’t even acknowledge the boy as they crossed the threshold, and when Molly smiled, he only cocked his head at her.

  “Okay then,” Molly mumbled, peering out into the swarm of strange faces filling the foyer.

  Men and women dressed in semi-formal gowns and three-piece suits crowded the classic black-and-white marble floors, and the walls were adorned with gleaming gold planters and priceless paintings. Molly was instantly dizzy, and leaned closer to Tensley.

  Don’t fall, don’t vomit, don’t screw up.

  Tensley didn’t bother to wait; he led them through the crowd, an obvious destination in mind. Molly kept her eyes directed at the floor; they only glowed when she felt a particularly strong emotion, but the adrenaline racing through her system wasn’t helping matters.

  “I’m here,” Tensley whispered, squeezing her hand. The horde split for them like they were royalty, each man giving Tensley a respectful nod when they passed. Their gazes would flicker over to Molly, but she wouldn’t return them. With her luck, her eyes would glow and everything would be undone. Demons would know she wasn’t a pesky human. They would know she was a daemon. An unmarked daemon.

  “You’re lying!” one man shouted at another, his face growing red.

/>   “You just can’t—” The other man shoved him back.

  Molly squeezed Tensley’s hand, pressing into his side to avoid the men.

  The shouting grew louder and more heated, and Tensley gripped Molly’s elbow and swept her to his other side, farther away from the argument. She smiled at the gesture of his protective nature over her.

  “Silence,” Tensley said coldly to the men as they passed. At the mere sight of Tensley, both men shut their mouths, bowing their heads at his presence.

  She glanced up at her fiancé, taking in his chiseled face, that eerie calm. He radiated confidence and power, and she thrived off it.

  “So this is her?”

  Molly turned to see a dark-haired woman approaching them with a smile and a very pregnant belly.

  “Gabriella,” Tensley said tightly.

  Gabriella smiled and stroked her extended stomach. “You can’t even muster a kind hello?”

  One look at Gabriella and Molly saw the resemblance: black hair, stormy eyes, and tan, smooth skin. Siblings.

  When Tensley simply stared back at her, Gabriella tsked. “You greet me like I’m the devil himself.”

  “Not a far off analogy, I think.”

  Molly’s neck reddened; she thought her fiancé was going to protect her from demon squabbles, not instigate them.

  “And this is your fiancée, Tensley?” Gabriella’s lips thinned as she scrutinized Molly with bemusement. “Father told me about her. Is she as fragile as she looks?”

  Molly curled her hands into fists.

  “Don’t start, Gabriella. Not here,” Tensley snarled.

  Gabriella rolled her eyes. “Oh, calm down. Can I steal your woman away for a bit? I’m sure the others will be absolutely tickled to meet the human girl allowed into our soiree.”

  A man suddenly approached from their right, clad in a pressed black suit and wearing an unreadable expression. Molly thought he looked capable of protecting the president himself.

  “Tensley, your father requests a word. In private.”

  Molly stiffened at the mention of Mr. Knight. She still remembered how he had beat her father and that made her blood boil.

  Tensley’s features warred with emotion, some inner battle waging within. Finally one side conquered, and he turned to his sister with a glare. “Keep her safe.”

  “But of course.” Gabriella laughed. “I wouldn’t want anything to happen to my soon-to-be sister-in-law, would I?”

  Molly glanced back at Tensley and mustered a small smile. He couldn’t protect her from his demon underworld forever. “Go. I’ll be fine.”

  Molly snaked her hand from between his fingers, ignoring the way Tensley’s jaw tightened.

  Gabriella smiled. “Come—you’ll love chatting with the ladies. So much better than listening in on some drab work conversation.”

  Molly trailed behind the pregnant demon as she greeted every other attendee they passed, often with air kisses and meaningless banter.

  “These parties are so dull. It’s always exciting when fresh meat comes waltzing in,” Gabriella said when they had exited through a pair of open French doors and into the dark, late-August night.

  Molly approached the women with caution, refusing to cower under their hushed whispers and blatant stares.

  “Ladies, ladies, this is my brother’s…friend,” Gabriella sang, each word dripping with fake sweetness. “Miss Darling.”

  A woman with auburn hair waved her hand gracefully. “Oooh, sweetheart, come here. We have so many questions for you.”

  Molly made sure to hold her head high; this wasn’t like the battles Cree had taught her to fight. This was something she was used to, had spent nineteen years engaging in: the war of fake words and coughed insults and debutante balls.

  She smiled at each woman, making the effort to hold their gazes. “Well, my name is Molly Darling, and I’m Tensley’s—”

  “Human whore,” someone interrupted. Molly located the speaker a ways off, veiled in shadow, one pale hand wrapped around a glass of champagne. “Such poor taste bringing her here, Gabriella. It’s disgraceful to Scorpios.”

  Molly swallowed a retort and clenched her purse. Deep breaths. This wasn’t a fight with fists, but with manipulated words. She knew she was the outcast and she wouldn’t have any allies. Now, standing in front of a crowd of beautiful demons, she knew she’d be their target. If she wanted Tensley, she had to show the women she was civil, and that she had a backbone of steel and wasn’t someone to mess with. She’d either need to find the weakest link or a kind soul.

  “It’s common practice. Many demons have human mistresses,” Gabriella said.

  “Yes, but none are so bold as to bring them to one of our gatherings,” the woman snapped. “A demon’s toy has no place at Scorpios. Our future leader should know better. The future Dux of Scorpios with a human?”

  A demon’s toy? Molly inhaled again, willing her anger to cease.

  Illya had warned her that to win the ladies of Scorpios’ respect, she had to show strength—but not so much that they felt threatened.

  Molly grabbed a flute off a tray and inhaled the scent: lavender and peach, the perfect summer cocktail to ease her nerves. She grinned at the women and drew closer. “So we’re celebrating a new member of Scorpios? Edgar Daniels, correct?”

  A shadowy glint clouded Gabriella’s eyes. “That’s right. He’ll be a foot soldier for now, but can move up the ranks in time—if he lasts that long.”

  Molly swallowed, her thin smile wavering.

  “Gabriella!” a tiny woman scolded as she sat down on a gilded patio lounge chair.

  The woman with auburn hair shook her head and drained her glass before handing it to a circling waiter. “She’s right, Amelia. All those poor Scorpios men killed or missing; the demon hunters need to be captured and skinned. Slowly.”

  The mention of the hunters made Molly’s skin crawl. She knew firsthand what they did to demons: locked them in tombs and drained them until they became weak and desperate, then finally released them for a murderous game of cat and mouse.

  She could still remember the way it had felt to stab that demon with the hunters a month before—splitting his chest cavity open with a jab, the resulting spray of red. The way his mouth had opened and closed like a beached fish as he died.

  Molly shivered against the balmy night air.

  “Please, let’s discuss something less morose,” Amelia said with begging brown eyes. Bingo. Kind soul. Those eyes turned to Molly and lit up. “How did you meet Tensley?”

  “Yes, please,” called out the stranger from the back, sauntering closer to Molly. She had black hair, pale skin, and glittering black eyes like a rattlesnake’s. “Tell us, Darling—has he marked you yet?”

  Molly’s daemon powers surged behind her eyes, a vibrating sting aching to escape. She reined them in, taking a few meditative inhales; it’d be a feeding frenzy if they found out what she really was. The hum of the glass alerted her to the fact that she was losing control of her powers, of her strength, and in one concentrated breath, she suppressed her power, each finger relaxing until the hum vanished.

  Keep it together, Molly. Don’t lose your temper. And definitely don’t punch that bitch in her smug face.

  Training herself came in handy now. Meditating, focusing on her breathing.

  Gabriella smiled painfully tight, widening her eyes at Molly. “I hope he wasn’t too cruel.”

  Molly returned the grin, arranging her features into the best semblance of neutrality she could muster.

  The dark-haired woman’s eyes grew darker, deadlier. “Hmm, touchy subject?” She tapped her mouth, a laugh tittering on the edge of her tongue as she encircled Molly, eyeing her up and down. “Either he’s marked you and you’re ashamed, or he hasn’t. It’s a fair question in our society, especially given the fact only high-born demons can see the evidence themselves.”

  “Hmm,” Molly said, willing calmness into her veins, into her pounding heartbeat. “It�
�s none of your concern.”

  The woman let out a full-blown cackle. “Such a naïve thing, aren’t you?” She leaned in to Molly’s hair and sniffed loudly.

  Molly jerked back, glaring at the woman.

  “I don’t smell him on you, which—oh dear—could only mean one thing: he hasn’t.” The woman’s eyebrows danced, triumphant, as she drifted back toward the party inside. “Funny, I never remember Tensley having a problem sealing the deal.”

  With that, she was gone, leaving Molly to gape in outrage, her powers surging to convalesce behind her pupils in that trademark glow.

  Molly hurriedly looked down, storming away from the others and into the depths of the garden. “Shit, shit, shit,” she cursed, heel catching on a raised root and nearly sending her sprawling on the dewy grass.

  She needed to find Tensley; she needed to get the hell out of there.

  Before anyone else found out the truth.

  TENSLEY SAT BACK in his leather chair, lazily eyeing his fellow business partners as they discussed Abaddon’s expenses. He remained silent, watching one of his father’s partners, Connor—whom Tensley referred to as Pudgy in his mind—pat down his sweaty forehead with a silk pocket square.

  “Abaddon’s account will be temporarily closed until a new duke has taken his place and the court’s found the murderer,” Connor announced, shutting the folder in front of him with enthusiasm. “His assets will be frozen until then, with all remaining familiars brought to the market for resale.”

  “Good.” Mr. Knight said from the head of the table, standing to adjust his dark suit as he surveyed the partners. “Any questions?”

  The room stayed quiet.

  About damn time, Tensley thought; it pained him to think of Molly out there alone amongst the vultures.

  Tensley went to rise as the others did, but a solid, loud voice stopped him. “And is the rumor true that Tensley is engaged to a human, Mr. Knight?”

  The accusation came from Evelyn’s father, Mr. Rose, where he sat across from the Knights, hands threaded in front of him.

  Tensley dug his nails into his palms; the father of his old paramour had no goddamn business asking this, but fine, he would appease the old man. “Yes, Mr. Rose. I am.”