“You’re really betting that the Council will call out the MPS or bring in some mercenary force if I kill Davos?”
“They aren’t the sharpest nails in the box but they can recognize an existential threat to them when they see it. They won’t hesitate to use the workers as human shields if it comes to that. You want their lives on your conscience?”
“No, of course I don’t. But you start warning people and Davos will hear about it. With the element of surprise, I can end this quickly and deploy enough forces throughout the city to stop the Council from so much as farting. Without it, all bets are off.”
“I know who to talk to,” Edward insists. “If the right people pass the word to stay home, the workers will do it, no questions asked.”
Slowly, I say, “I didn’t realize there was that kind of leadership among the workers.”
“It’s developed recently.” He doesn’t offer any more details but he does add, “Given time, a lot could change around here for the better. But nothing good can happen while people are being killed.”
He’s got a point but I need to think about what all this means. Gab is sure that Edward is in contact with the scavengers. Now he’s telling me that he’s also got a pipeline into the workers. Very well connected man, our Edward. I’ve got to wonder what he’s planning.
However, that can wait. “What about the residents?” I ask. “You’re not losing any sleep over what happens to them?”
“Let’s be clear,” he says. “I don’t want to see anyone killed except Davos. If there was a way to keep the residents out of this, I’d grab it. But at least half of them, probably more, would waste no time running to the Council or to Davos himself at the first hint of a threat to their precious status quo. Besides, Carnival starts tonight. There really would have to be bombs going off to keep them from that.”
“I know a few who won’t be attending,” I say, “starting with Amelia and including my mother and sister. I assume you’ll warn your grandmother as well.”
“I’ll make sure that Adele knows,” Edward agrees. “She and Amelia were planning to go to the premiere of a ballet that Sergei Zharkov’s producing for Carnival, something about Medea. They’ll just have to miss it.”
It occurs to me that the Russian’s choice of a work about blood and madness might turn out to be more fitting than I’d thought. But not if I can help it. Davos is only one man. There’s no reason why his death should be anything other than a cause of great relief. Provided that I can get to him fast enough, before he has any sense of what’s coming.
“How much lead time do you need?” I ask Edward.
“A few hours, that’s all.” He’s silent for a moment. “It’s actually more critical that I know if you fail. Dead, Davos is no further threat. But if he’s still alive--”
“He won’t be. However, I’ll make sure that you know either way.” Including, although neither of us needs to say it, if I don’t survive.
Edward and I end our conversation a few minutes later. I’m heading back to Pinnacle House, having opted to walk in order to avoid the heavy traffic thronging the streets in the run-up to Carnival, when a young woman gotten up as Marie Antoinette in her Bo-Peep phase stumbles out of an alley and bumps into me.
Giggling, she says, “Oh, God, I’m sorry! Started partying a little early, I guess.” She giggles again and grabs my hand to steady herself. “I didn’t hurt you, did I?” she asks.
I’m about to assure the petite curly haired blond with the improbably large breasts that I’m fine when her feet slip out from under her. Despite her grip on my hand, she tumbles to her knees, in the process pressing her face right up against my crotch. My cock is resting up for Amelia and doesn’t react.
I grasp her shoulders and pull her to her feet. “How about I call somebody to come get you?”
She bats her eyes and looks puzzled. “Why? I’m fine and besides, the fun hasn’t even started yet.”
I step back, relieved when she remains upright. She gives me another grin and a little wave before toddling on down the street. I shake my head, wondering what kind of shape she’ll be in by morning.
Not my problem, fortunately. I move on, forgetting her.
I’ve gone half-a-block when I notice that my hand is stinging. I stare at it for several moments before I make out the small puncture wound in the palm. Even then I have a hard time processing what it means. Of all the rookie mistakes! I’ve been so busy thinking about how to take out Davos that I didn’t stop to consider that he could strike first. Or that snake that he is, he’d never come at me directly. Bastard sent Bo-Peep to do it instead.
I need help and fast.
I fumble for my link, intending to call Hollis. Whatever poison or drug has entered my system, he can drop a evac drone right where I’m standing. I can be in Medical within minutes. With luck, there’s still time to get whatever this is out of me before--
The world shifts, tilting dizzily on its axis. My heart is racing. I can hear the roar of blood in my ears. In the next instant, I feel as though I’ve stepped outside my body, my consciousness detaching from the rest of me. No pain, though, so probably not poison. A drug then. Shit! I stagger and try again to reach my link but my fingers are clumsy and they miss. Instinctively, I keep walking, reeling past clusters of early partiers who take no notice of what must look like just another drunk guy. I need to do something but I can’t remember what. The city, the street, the revelers, I’m losing it all. Losing myself…
~~~~~~~~~~~~
When I’m next aware, I’m in an alley off the main drag. My back is to a wall, which I must have slid down because I’m in a crouch. I stand, relieved that I’m no longer dizzy, and look in all directions. Nothing. I’m alone.
With no immediate threat in sight, I do a quick physical check. So far as I can tell, I’m uninjured. My heartbeat has slowed to normal and my vision is clear. Aside from a sheen of sweat filming my skin, I feel fine.
What was all that then? I lift my hand and look at it closely. It no longer stings and there’s no sign of the puncture wound that I thought I saw.
I’m still convinced that something isn’t right. I’ll head back to Pinnacle House and check in with Medical anyway, have them run a quick tox screen. I leave the alley and start back up the avenue but before I get very far, I’m reconsidering. I feel good. Hell, make that great.
All the crap I’ve been dealing with--the HPF, Davos, the Council--has faded away. I can see each now for what it really is, a nuisance to be crushed and forgotten, no doubts, no regrets, and above all none of that right/wrong bullshit. Whatever works is right, plain and simple. Come down to it, I really only have one problem--Amelia. That gorgeous, hot-as-Hades temptress has me tied up in knots. Defying me the way she does, trying to tell me what to do, getting me so hard that I can’t think straight.
The sun is too bright. I cross over to the shadowed side of the street and keep walking. It really is a great day, the city at its best and Carnival about to start. I’ve never let myself enjoy Carnival but I make up my mind right then that this year will be an exception.
A prism of rainbow lights flickers at the periphery of my vision. I have no idea where it’s coming from and I don’t care. I’m back to thinking about Amelia. How tight her sweet cunt feels when I’m deep inside her, those breathy little cries she gives as she comes, how soft and pliant she is afterward. My hot, sexy obsession. Who seems to have forgotten that she’s my property.
Taking her to the beach house was a mistake. Too many memories associated with that place thanks to my old man bulldozing it. Ran the machine himself, from what I heard. Say what you want but he had style.
And forget Pinnacle House. Gab’s taken a shine to her. Hollis admires her courage. As for Hodge, he’s made it clear from the start that he expects me to be the better man and do what’s right where she’s concerned. The mood I’m in, I’ve got other priorities.
In a few hours, the serious partying begins. By tradition, the Lords of Mis
rule take over the city. Anything goes. It’s time to cut loose and let myself off the leash. Right about now, that sounds like a pretty good plan, even if it does present a few logistical problems.
I want Amelia all to myself in a place with no memories and no possibility of interference. A place where I can set her straight about the nature of our relationship. For just a second, the old club flits through my mind. I push that thought aside. I’m not that fucked up kid any more. I’m a man, one who damn well knows what he wants.
Within sight of the park, I notice the elegant hotel built more than a century ago in the Art Deco style that conceals a separate boutique residence on its upper floors. The latter is well known throughout the city for no-questions-asked service and absolute discretion.
I’m smiling as I step inside the ornate lobby filled with towering white columns, gilded ceiling reliefs, and the signature potted palms. Half-an-hour later, with a suite booked and a few special requirements in the works, I continue on my way to Pinnacle House. Amelia’s had it easy so far but it’s time to remind her who she belongs to.
Chapter Twenty-four
Amelia
“I don’t understand. I thought you wanted me to stay here while you deal with Davos.”
Ian is back from the council meeting to my great relief but his mood is a surprise. All the dark rage and barely contained violence that was so evident earlier has evaporated. Instead, he’s relaxed, even buoyant, as though he doesn’t have a care in the world.
I should be glad especially if that means he’s reconsidering about going after Davos on his own. And I am. But something feels…off.
“That snake isn’t going anywhere,” he says with a shrug. “Besides now that I’m on to what he wants, it’ll be fun to watch him twist in the wind.” He takes a step closer to me, brushing his long fingers over the curve of my cheek.“Trust me, babe, I take really good care of what belongs to me. Davos isn’t getting anywhere near you.”
His possessiveness sends a long ripple of pleasure through me. I want desperately to tell him how I feel but the words catch in my throat. He looks unburdened, as though he’s shucked off all the dangers and concerns that threaten us. As welcome as that might be under other circumstances, it’s very un-Ian like. Before anything else, I want to understand what’s responsible for this change in him.
“Did you discuss Davos with the Council?” I ask.
“No point. That little get-together was strictly for show.” He wraps a hand around the nape of my neck and pulls me to him. His lips graze mine as he says, “Get dressed. You don’t want to miss that Russian fucker’s contribution to Carnival, do you?”
I start in surprise, torn between dismay and delight. Dismay wins, if only for a moment. “Ian! Don’t talk about Sergei like that. He’s not just my teacher, he’s also a friend.”
“Whatever. We’re leaving in half-an-hour.” His eyes, a molten amber, skim me. “Hodge brought clothes for you down from the palazzo. I’m sure you’ll find something suitable.”
I want to ask him what has happened to make him believe that the danger isn’t nearly as serious as he thought it was just a few hours ago but he’s already walking away. Over his shoulder, he says, “I’ll use one of the guest rooms to get ready. If I join you, we’ll never get out of here.”
I believe him. The way I feel, I’d just as soon stay in. Only my need to discover what lies behind this sudden, drastic shift in his mood convinces me to do as he says.
Twenty-eight minutes later--I check the clock--I walk back into the great room wearing the gown I chose and the matching accessories. Hodge must have brought down a good third or more of the contents of the dressing room that I discovered shortly after awakening at the palazzo. I’ve surmised that Susannah picked out clothes for me just as she designed the Golden Room and what lies beyond it.
My step falters as I recall where the concealed door in the dressing room leads to--the Cabinet of Secret Delights that I’ve dreamed of so recently. Something dark stirs in me that I don’t want to acknowledge. Susannah didn’t know about the demons that haunt Ian, memories of the year he spent when he was fifteen as a member of the brutal sex club his father founded and controlled. If she had, I doubt very much that the Cabinet would exist. But it does and I have no idea how to tell him about it, or even if I ever will.
The gown I’ve chosen is unlike anything else I’ve worn. The strappy silk sheathe hugs my body from the curve of my breasts to my thighs before flaring slightly to my ankles enough so that I can walk. A bold, blatant red, the gown is encrusted with thousands of tiny, glittering crystals that reflect the light with every step I take. Their weight is such that I found the gown carefully folded between layers of tissue paper in a drawer rather than on a hanger. My undergarments, such as they are, are also red--all silk and frothy lace that make me feel as though I am wearing nothing. Going all in, I’m wearing red stilettos attached by silk ribbons tied in bows at the back of my ankles.
With the gown was a matching red lace mask that leads me to guess that the costume was intended for Carnival. I haven’t put the mask on yet, only held it up in front of the mirror to see what the effect will be. Fitted closely to my face, it peaks over the bridge of my nose and has cut-outs for my eyes yet it still resembles a blindfold. As such, it hints at a level of submission and helplessness that I find disturbingly arousing.
Ian is already in the great room when I arrive, looking breathtaking once again in formal evening wear. He’s standing with his back to me looking out over the city. I can see my own reflection in the glass he’s facing and so can he. Slowly, he turns. As his eyes rake over me, I realize that I’m holding my breath. I release it slowly and take a step toward him.
“Can you help me with this?” I ask, holding out my mask.
He doesn’t respond at once, continuing to devour me with his gaze. The moments stretch out between us. Need for him vibrates through me, shocking in its intensity.
Finally, he closes the space between us and extends his hand in a silent gesture of command. I place the mask in it and turn so that my back is to him. He sucks in his breath as I fight to contain a smile. The gown leaves me bare from my shoulder blades to the curve of my derriere. When I realized how much of me would be exposed, I almost chose something else to wear. Now I’m glad that I didn’t.
A soft gasp escapes me as Ian traces the tip of his finger down my spine and slips it under the edge of the silk. He strokes the small depression just above the crack in my ass, probing gently.
“I want this, too,” he murmurs, his breath warm against my ear.
My inner muscles tighten with a combination of shock, fear and treacherous longing. How can he do this to me so effortlessly?
As though he knows exactly what I’m thinking, he chuckles and places the mask over my face, tying it behind my head so that the red silk ribbons trail down to tickle my back. My hair is up, secured in a twist from which a few tendrils escape. He lowers his mouth to the exposed hollow between the base of my throat and my shoulder. Against my skin, he murmurs, “You’re a fire in my blood, Amelia. One I don’t think I can ever quench.”
Does that mean he would like to? I don’t have the nerve to ask him, especially not when, without warning, he first sucks my skin, then bites me lightly. The pain is small and fleeting but he leaves no doubt as to his intent.
“I want to mark you,” he says. “I don’t want there to be any doubt about who you belong to. Not in your mind or anyone else’s.”
I gasp and take a quick step away, turning to look at him. He is power and male beauty, primal, fierce, unrelenting. Truly the prince of my imaginings but also so much more. A man, real, vulnerable, passionate. And seeming against all odds, mine.
Breathlessly, I say, “We should go.”
He frowns slightly. “Are you that anxious to see the Russian?”
The sudden flash of jealousy--again--takes me aback. I don’t try to hide my irritation. “I’ve told you, Sergei is just a friend.”
<
br /> His hand tightens on my upper arm, not enough to cause even the slightest discomfort yet enough to leave no doubt as to his feelings.
“Make no mistake, Amelia, I’m not. I’m the man who wants to possess you, all of you, in every way. Your desire, your longing, your passion all belong to me and that has nothing to do with any damn paperwork.” His warm breath brushes the back of my neck. “I’m going to teach you things that good old Sergei couldn’t even dream of. Before I’m done you’ll know exactly who you belong to.”
I’m torn between dumbfounded silence and darkly stirring desire. Without waiting for me to respond, he takes my hand and strides toward the elevator. I’m forced to run a little to keep up with him.
We’re half-way through the lobby of Pinnacle House--a soaring space of marble and steel that I can’t help but find impressive--when his link chimes. He grabs it from his pocket impatiently.
“What?” Silence for a moment, then, “Out, that’s where. It’s Carnival. We’re going to have some fun. You might try it yourself, Hollis.” More silence, followed by, “I’ll get around to Davos when I’m damn good and ready. Just make sure that when I am, we know exactly where he is.” Before the other man can say anything more, Ian disconnects.
Briefly, he scowls but in the next instant his mood shifts and he gives me a blinding smile. “Ready, sweetheart?” he asks.
I nod but I’m not at all sure that I am prepared to deal with this mercurial, seductive Ian. The man I love, who wants my ass and all the rest of me as well. But I’m not about to say ‘no’ to him, not when I’m the one who feels on fire.
We step out into an evening warm with the promise of summer and exploding with color and sound. Carnival is truly underway, the streets thronged with fevered pleasure seekers. The contrast between what I see all around me and what I witnessed not even forty-eight hours ago at the Crystal Palace is overwhelming. I simply can’t put the two events together.
Anew: Book Two: Hunted Page 20