Master of Salt & Bones

by Keri Lake

  I turn just enough that our lips nearly touch. “You were looking at me, too.”

  Scintillating amber eyes dip to my dress and back. “If I suspected any one of these bastards were thinking the same thing I was when I first saw you, I’d kill them all.”

  “I’m too young for you, remember?”

  “You are.” The gentle brush of his knuckles along the edge of my neck has my heart hammering inside my chest. “And too tempting.”

  “What torture that must be.”

  “You have no idea. Particularly with how ravishing you look tonight.”

  “Then, why put yourself through it?” I glance around the room at the more scantily clad women, most likely hired as entertainment for anyone who came alone. “There seems to be plenty of women your age here. Why trouble yourself, at all, with me?”

  “I ask myself the same question. Somehow, the more I stay away, the more I can’t. That’s the tragedy in all of this. The ceaseless draw of the flame.”

  “For a ruthless businessman, that’s awfully undisciplined of you.”

  “Ruthless, indeed. And curious as hell.”

  “What kind of curiosities plague the mind of a devil?”

  The richness of his chuckle hits a nerve somewhere inside of me, the mask emphasizing an unearthly beautiful smile that sends goosebumps across my skin. Coming to a stand behind me, facing away from the crowd, he presses his steel chest into my back, once again reminding me of his size. Every cell in my body flares to life, when he slides his hand down my arm and threads his fingers in mine, the strength in them clasped around my more delicate bones. At the scratch of his mask against my neck, I tilt my head, allowing him full access. “What I wouldn’t give to peel this dress off of you. Slowly.”

  “They’re watching us, aren’t they?”

  “I approached you intentionally, Isa. I’d hate for anyone to make the mistake of thinking you’re fair game.”

  “Including you.”

  “Especially me.”

  Desire simmers in my blood, when his lips press against the pulsing vein in my neck. “You’re the most confusing person I’ve ever met.”

  “And you’re the most irresistible.” He kisses his way up my neck to my ear, where he nips my lobe, and I squeeze my fingers in his.

  “I gave you the green light already. What more do you need?”

  “That’s just it. What I want, and what I need, are two edges of the same blade.” With my head still tipped, he licks the shell of my ear. “I want you to tell me if any of these men proposition you tonight. Do you understand?”

  “Why? What will it mean, if they do?”

  “That’s my concern, not yours.”

  “And if I welcome it?”

  His fingers tighten around mine, and he exhales a sharp breath against my throat. “That will be my concern, as well.”

  I hate that I’m putty in this man’s hands. That all it takes is a few poetic words and expert placement of his lips to leave me panting like an eager puppy.

  “I meant to ask you. You could’ve had anyone play for you tonight. Why me?”

  “Anyone else wouldn’t have been half as enthralling to watch as you.” With a tug, he leads me away from the cage, toward the piano.

  The members of the orchestra set down their instruments, and the room falls quiet, as I take my seat on the bench.

  Fingers to the keys, I exhale a shaky breath and close my eyes. The first notes of Nocturne Op. 9 No. 2 echo through the room. Some of the partygoers have gathered around the piano. Others resume their conversations, but I keep on playing.

  Through the crowd, I find Lucian standing in a circle of men, staring at me over the rim of his drink. The most handsome and intimidating of all, even with the mask concealing half his face. He remains riveted, while the men lean in, obviously prattling on as he ignores them.

  The intensity of his eyes is too much, and I have to look away, for fear of faltering in the song I’ve chosen to play. At another glance, I see he hasn’t conceded so easily. His gaze remains unmoved. One of the men beside him pats his chest, breaking into laughter. It’s painfully awkward to watch when Lucian sips his drink, not bothering to share in the man’s hilarity.

  The way he watches, like we’re the only two in the room, makes me wonder what he’d do right now, if that were truly the case.

  For the next hour, I run through the songs I know best, and when I reach the final note of the last, I glance around the room, noting Lucian has disappeared. Without much pause in between, I begin to play the song that he composed. The one I helped him capture in his notebook. Closing my eyes, I allow his notes to wind through my mind, while I imagine his roaming hands, and once I’ve finished, my audience claps, and I rise from the bench. Eyes scanning the crowd, I search for Lucian again, as the members of the orchestra return to their seats.

  “I noticed you never once flipped through the music.” The voice has me spinning around to a masked man with gray hair behind me, wearing a standard tuxedo, and he lifts his mask just enough that I recognize Mayor Boyd.

  His comment brings a smile to my face. “A freakish talent.”

  He leans in, keeping his hands crossed in front of his body. “I think you mean extraordinary. One must never downplay the gifts God bestows upon us.”

  Flush with the discomfort of his compliments, I nod. “That’s true.” Once again, I search the crowd for the most handsome face, but find no one familiar, aside from the man beside me.

  “You’re looking for someone?”

  Giulia’s words hit me again, about staying near Lucian, but I’ve met Mayor Boyd before, and the man hardly seemed dangerous. My fingers fidget with the unease of chatting with the father of Lucian’s dead wife, while just moments ago, I imagined his former son-in-law tearing away my dress. “I just … no. No one in particular.”

  “Ah. If I were twenty years younger and had a stunning beauty like yourself on my arm, I surely wouldn’t let you out of my sight for long.”

  Surely, he’s forgotten that I’m only nineteen. If he’s as old as I think he is, twenty years younger would still make him twice my age. And again, what an awkward conversation to be having with this man.

  A change of topic is definitely in order, because if my cheeks get any redder, someone will think the man slapped me. “My apologies for not giving you a heads-up about Mrs. Blackthorne the last time you were here.”

  “I didn’t realize Laura had declined so dramatically in the last few years. It’s a shame to see her that way. She was always such a vibrant and bold woman.”

  “I’ve only worked with her for a short time, but I can imagine. She must’ve been quite a character.”

  “She was. She treated my Amelia so well.” The first quiver of his lip knots my stomach, as his eyes shine with tears. “My sweet, sweet girl.” He lifts the mask, tugging a handkerchief from the pocket of his tuxedo, and daubs his eyes. “I’m sorry. I don’t think a father ever gets over losing a child.”

  “It’s okay. I understand.” I don’t understand, at all, but it’s all I can think to say to him.

  “I know this might sound strange, but … may I hug you?”

  My whole body freezes at his request, and I am officially and utterly at a loss for words. “Uh. Well. Sure, I guess.”

  Without a moment’s hesitation, he leans forward, wrapping his arms around me, as he pulls me in for a hug. Squeezed tight against him, my breasts smashed into his chest, he holds me there, and the broken sniffles in my ear only heighten the discomfort and alarm pulsing through me right now. It’s then I realize I’m holding my arms away from him, uncertain what to do with them.

  “I just miss her so, so much.” He shifts his body against me, sliding my breasts across his chest, and I cringe at the sensation. “I couldn’t even save her soul. I only pray the Lord spared her decision.”

  Shrugging to break his embrace, I feel him lower his hands to the middle of my back and tighten around me.

  “I see y
ou’ve met my pianist.” Lucian’s voice, laced with a small bit of antipathy, is a welcomed sound, and thankfully, Mayor Boyd releases me.

  “She’s very good. Very talented.”

  “She is. And if you’ll excuse us, Patrick, I have a private matter to discuss with her.”

  “Of course.” Taking my hand in his, Mayor Boyd bends to kiss my knuckles and smiles. “I look forward to continuing our conversation after you speak with Mr. Blackthorne.”

  I’d rather stare at the candles for the next three hours.

  Sliding my hand out of Mayor Boyd’s, Lucian leads me through the crowd to a door made of glass, which he opens onto the courtyard outside. The full moon shines down on the decaying foliage that climbs the outer walls of the atrium, and we come to a stop in the shadows. From here, we can still see the crowd inside, but remain concealed by the overhanging trees and the stone wall of the castle.

  With a bit more force than I expect, my body spins around, and the cold wall presses into my back. Lucian steps toward me, diminishing the space between us.

  “When did I give you permission to play that piece?” Malice burns through his fingertips where he squeezes my arms, and once again, he’s irritated with me. When is he not?

  “You didn’t, I--”

  “I didn’t. That’s right. And yet, you took it upon yourself to play it, anyway.” He gives a slight shake, his lips peeling back with his anger. “Why?”

  “It’s a beautiful song. So haunting, I hear it every time I close my eyes. And I’m sorry I played without your permission. It was wrong of me. Please forgive me.”

  “What did he say to you?” he asks through clenched teeth, cluing me in to what I’d bet is the real source of anger pulsing through him.

  “Mayor Boyd? Nothing, really. He just talked about his daughter.”

  “What about his daughter?”

  “Just that he misses her. What’s wrong?”

  Hand to my throat, he lifts my chin, amber eyes drilling into mine. Licking his lips, he breathes hard through his teeth, the mask concealing his face enough that I can’t get a sense of whether he’s pissed at me, or Boyd. “He touched you. Why did he touch you?”

  “He asked if he could hug me.”

  “And you said yes? You allowed him this comfort?”

  “Yes. Though, I’m not going to lie, I regretted it immediately.”

  A tiny fissure cracks his veneer. Jealousy practically oozes out of him like a dangerous poison to anyone who dares touch it.

  “And what about me? Would you regret it, if I kissed you right now?” His pride dangles before me like a flitting string, one I want to recklessly pull to see what it means to unravel this man.

  “Are you asking my permission?”

  “I don’t ask for anything. When I want something, I take it.”

  The intensity staring back at me through the holes in his mask is nearly sex itself. Never has a man looked at me this way, with such possession.

  “Then, what are you waiting for?”

  Warm lips crush mine in a kiss that demands my surrender, as he keeps his hand propped at my throat. His other hand slides up the slit of my dress, his finger hooking the string of my panties and pulling them down my thighs. The fragile bands dig into my flesh as he nudges my legs apart with his knee.

  Beneath his sensual touch and the longing in his eyes lies something filthy and depraved. Tension and hostility radiate from every pore in his body, and it suddenly occurs to me why. He can’t control himself. If he could, he’d have left me at the mercy of Mayor Boyd.

  A part of me wants to laugh at the victory, but the sad truth is, I’m just as weak as he is.

  The moment his fingertips make contact with my bare skin, he groans into my mouth, while gathering up the slick arousal that belongs to him. “You always have to be fucking wet, don’t you?” The air of violence in his voice stokes my excitement for some reason, I can’t explain why.

  The very thought that my arousal turns him on feels like a whole lot of power in my hands. “Maybe you should stop, if it makes you so angry.”

  “I can’t stop. All I think about is this.” He drives his finger up inside of me, and I arch into him on a moan. “Day and night, I think about your taste. Your scent. The softness of your skin against my tongue.”

  “You said you love the torture. Now you don’t?”

  “I’m beyond torture. I’m on the brink of madness,” he says, in a voice that sounds like he’s on the verge of cracking. Squeezing my throat tighter lifts my chin into the air, my mouth gaping for a breath, and he closes his lips over mine once again. In and out, his fingers pump into me, the wet sucking slide and our harsh mingling breaths the only sound between us. “I have to fuck you. I shouldn’t. It’s wrong. But I have to.”

  Releasing me, he lowers to his knees and throws off the mask. The second he lifts my dress at the slit, the cool summer air hits my bare sex, and at the tearing sound, I look down to see he’s broken the string of my panties. The garment falls to the ground beside us, and he hikes my leg up, his movements frantic and rushed, as if he fears he’ll stop himself any moment.

  Soft lips clamp to my clit, and as his tongue drags over the sensitive bit of flesh, my belly clenches, and I reach down to grab a handful of his hair. “Oh, God!”

  He laps up my juices, tonguing my flesh as though he can’t bear to leave one drop behind. His scars tickle my skin, and I dig my nails into his scalp, crying out, while he eats like a ravenous beast who hasn’t had a meal in days. The merciless tug of his lips draws my hips away from the wall, and I tip my head back, palm against the stones behind me, searching for something to squeeze.

  “Lucian! Please.” I don’t know what I’m begging him for. More? Mercy? An end? All I know is my belly is tight, and my muscles are burning for this man and his delicious wrath.

  “Hold your dress open.” His voice is husky and demanding, and I do what he says, holding it open for him. Without breaking contact with my flesh, as he loosens his belt with a jerk of his arm, springing himself free. Tilting my head to the side, I watch as he strokes himself, the sight of his thick and obviously hungry cock winding a thrill inside of me.

  I squirm against his mouth, the scratch of my dress against the stones only adding to the sounds of lust filling the air, as I let out a moan.

  “Lucian? Lucian?” The distant sound of Laura’s voice sends a rush of panic through me, and I push at the top of his head to break his hold of me.

  “Wait. It’s your mother.”

  At first, he doesn’t stop, but with a bit more prodding, he backs away from me. I drop the fabric, watching him tuck his still fully-erect cock back into his pants. “What the hell is she doing out of bed?” Swiping his mask up from the ground, along with my discarded panties, he straightens to a stand, wiping off the small bits of grass from his slacks, and replaces the mask over his face. He tucks my panties into his pocket and takes my hand, leading me back in through the glass door.

  The room is dead silent.

  The music has stopped.

  We make our way through the crowd toward the center of it, and I skid to a halt and slap a hand over my mouth.

  Lucian turns his face away, shrugging out of his coat. “Jesus, mother.”

  “Lucian, there you are.” Laura’s face beams with a smile, as she stands in the center of the packed atrium without a single stitch of clothing on her body. Like she’s oblivious to the gasps and stares of onlookers.

  My heart hurts for her, as I absorb the humiliation she apparently doesn’t yet feel.

  Rand wraps a coat around her, and I slide my mask up, grab Lucian’s coat, and lurch forward, using the second one to conceal the front of her body where it’s still exposed.

  “I’ll take her back to her room.” Shielding her as much as I can, I push through the crowd and guide Laura out through the atrium doors.

  Twisting against me, Laura physically objects, turning in the direction of the party. “Where are we going? I ne
ed to speak to Lucian.”

  “Laura, where’s Nell?”

  “Who’s Nell? Have you seen Amelia? I can’t find her anywhere.”

  Halfway to the elevator, we run into Nell, whose eyes grow wide and panicked as she hustles toward us. “Where was she?”

  “She walked right into the masquerade. Everyone … everyone saw her.” I flinch at the mental replay of it. “God, where were you, Nell?”

  “I just stepped away a moment for a cigarette.” Taking the lead in front of us, she holds onto Laura’s arm and pushes the elevator button.

  The doors open, and we take it up to the second floor, where Laura squirms to break our hold. “I need to speak to my son. Why won’t you let me speak to my son?”

  “Laura.” Setting a hand against her cheek draws her eyes to mine, the rheumy sadness in them tugging at my chest. “I’ll ask him to come up here to speak with you. But please, you need to get dressed and get into bed, okay?”

  Her gaze flits to Nell, who, to her credit, doesn’t say a damn thing, and Laura nods. “Okay, but I need to speak to him right away. It’s urgent.”

  Helping her to her bedroom, Nell and I gather up fresh underwear and a nightgown. The pad on the bed where she lay earlier is soaked, which is what likely prompted her to remove her clothes. After helping her to the bathroom, Nell gives her a quick shower, while I clean up her soiled bed, replacing the old with new sheets. The dress rubbing against my bare skin has me feeling as exposed as Laura was as I move about, but I ignore it. When the two emerge from the bathroom, Laura is fully clothed again.

  As I help her to bed and tuck the blanket around her, Laura smiles up at me. “She never pays attention anymore.”

  I glance back to Nell, uncertain whether Laura is aware of what happened this evening. I hope she isn’t. I hope whatever has taken over her mind protects her from this. “Who?”

  “Amelia. She always kept those pills out on the dresser, and I warned her Roark would get to them.”

  Another glance back at Nell, and both of us frown. “What happened?”

  “Well, what do you think happened? She wasn’t paying attention. You must always pay attention to your children. Always.”