The Spider Queen

by Emma Slate

  Once Lucifer deemed the champagne acceptable, the server poured us two glasses and then placed the bottle in an ice bucket before discreetly leaving.

  “I have to remember to tell Flynn he has really good staff here,” I blurted out. My nerves were a tangled mess. I never got rattled; it didn’t happen.

  “Flynn?” He cocked his head to the side. The gesture seemed odd, like it wasn’t normal for him. Like it was contrived.

  I frowned. “Yes. The owner of the hotel. I—ah—know him.”

  “Do you?” His voice was a purr. A seductive warning.

  Reaching for my flute of champagne, I said, “I made a gift for his wife. It’s why I’m here. At the masquerade.” I took a sip. “You must know them too, if you’re here for their party.”

  “I know them,” he said. “I just didn’t like the way you said his name with such casual affection.”

  My eyes narrowed. “Odd thing for you to be upset about, don’t you think? We’re strangers.”

  “Are we?” he murmured. His long fingers gripped the delicate stem of his flute, but he didn’t move to pick it up.

  “We don’t even know each other’s names,” I pointed out.

  “Names mean nothing.” He leaned forward ever so slightly, and finally—finally—I was able to detect an emotion from him. Want. Not lust, but a deep soulful yearning.

  My eyes widened in surprise. Of all the emotions I’d expected from him, that wasn’t one of them. But I intuitively knew that Lucifer didn’t show anything he didn’t want to.

  “You know something happened between us… When we locked eyes in the ballroom.”

  I swallowed hard to clear my throat before speaking. I was used to being the one who was the straight shooter—but only when it came to other people’s emotions. Now I knew how uncomfortable I made others feel, since it was now turned around on me.

  “I don’t do one-night stands,” I stated.

  He downed half the flute of champagne in one long swallow and then set it aside. His lips curved into a feral smile, full of devious and sinful intent.

  “Is that what you thought this was going to be? A one-night stand?” He didn’t give me a chance to reply as he continued, “For the record, my little hummingbird, I don’t do one-night stands either.”

  Chapter 7

  This man played all the games.

  He knew the rules and how to break them and get away with it. I wouldn’t stand a chance against a predator like him who loved the chase.

  But damn if I wasn’t intrigued. The art of seduction wasn’t lost on me. I witnessed it every night when I went out to bars to find people to help. I’d watched it countless times and never understood it.

  Now I wanted to understand it. The thrill of it zinged through my veins, making me feel light and resilient.

  I laughed and I swore Lucifer’s eyes darkened.

  “You’re good, I’ll give you that.” I took another sip of the heady champagne, wondering why it seemed to affect me differently. I swore I was nearly drunk after just a few sips. Drunk on champagne bubbles. Maybe it was my companion’s presence. I’d been off kilter since the moment we’d locked eyes.

  “Question for you. Are you always this blunt?” he demanded.

  “Why, is that a bad thing?”

  “Did I say it was a bad thing?” he asked calmly.

  “No. You didn’t have to—”

  “In my line of work, I have to deal with a lot of”—he paused—“nuance. And reading between the lines. It’s refreshing to be around someone who speaks her mind. Who means exactly what she says.”

  I tried not to let his compliment go to my head, or read more into it than anything but a simple statement.

  “What line of work are you in?” I asked.

  “Trade.” He shrugged. “Deals. That sort of thing. It’s boring, actually. Let’s not talk about it.” He leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table. “I want to talk about you.”

  “Me?”

  He nodded. “I want to know everything there is to know about you. Now, does that sound like a man who’s only interested in a one-night stand?”

  “What are you interested in?” I asked.

  “I thought that was obvious.”

  We fell into a charged silence. His indigo eyes were bright despite the dim lighting of the restaurant. His cheekbones looked sharp enough to carve the figurines I put in my snow globes.

  The more I stared at him, the harder it was to look away. He was beautiful. And terrifying. I feared him. Not fear for my safety. Not fear for my physical self. No. I feared he might reveal part of me no one had ever seen before.

  My self-preservation suddenly kicked in. I reached for my clutch. “Will you excuse me for a moment? That champagne is hitting me.” He stood when I did, causing me to blink in confusion. “What are you doing?”

  “It’s good manners to stand when a lady leaves the table.”

  I barked out a laugh. “In what era? And who says I’m a lady?”

  His indigo eyes blazed. “I’ll wait here. Take your time.”

  Flustered, I nearly stumbled away from the table. As I scurried toward the restroom, I chanced a look behind me.

  His gaze was bolted to me and he smiled ever so slightly. Feeling like a trapped hare, I managed to find the hallway leading to the restroom. I passed it and kept going, following the sounds of the kitchen.

  I pushed open the swinging door. The conversation of the kitchen staff and orders being yelled from waiters to the chef came to a halt as everyone stopped and looked at me.

  Gulping, I forced a smile. “Is there a back exit?”

  “Bad date, huh,” one of the chefs asked, his uniform coat starched and white.

  I latched on to that excuse. “Oh, yeah. Real bad.”

  “You can go out that way,” he said, pointing to a door before getting back to chopping vegetables.

  The door led to the front desk office. Luckily it was empty, so I didn’t have to explain myself.

  I didn’t know how long I’d been away from the table, but I knew it was only a matter of time before he came looking for me. Now that I was away from him, I felt like I could breathe, and I was in control of my emotions again.

  Something about him was hypnotizing.

  I dove behind a robust ficus when I saw him exit the restaurant. He looked around, his eyes passing over the large, potted plant. Shaking his head, a small smile appeared on his generous lips. Heading to the double doors that would lead out to the street, he began to whistle.

  I shouldn’t have been able to hear it from so far away, and not with all the noise coming from the ballroom. But heard it, I did.

  A shiver raced up my spine.

  It was the same song I’d heard in my dream. Right before the snake had devoured me.

  When I thought enough time had passed, I finally came out from behind the ficus. I didn’t bother trying to hail a cab. I wanted to get out of the limelight. So I darted for the subway.

  Luck was with me; as I came down the last step, the train pulled into the station. I swiped my metro card, but it declined. I swiped it again. It went through. I ran for the train, slipping between two closing doors just in the nick of time. Thankfully, the doors didn’t shut on the costume I was wearing. I didn’t want to have to explain to Blaze’s cousin how I’d ruined the beautiful garment. I suddenly realized that I’d left the mask on the table in the bar. I’d call the hotel when I got home. I didn’t dare return for it now.

  Heaving a deep breath, I took a vacant seat in the corner as the train departed. The car was mostly empty, but I didn’t relax.

  Thirty minutes later, I was shutting the front door of my apartment and my heartbeat wasn’t any calmer.

  That song he’d whistled… I still heard it, still felt it. Notes and melody pumped their way through my system, intoxicating me.

  I dropped my clutch onto the floor and traipsed toward the bedroom, removing my flats along the way. I got out of the costume but was sud
denly too tired to hang it up, so I laid it across the back of the chair.

  My eyes were bleary and everything appeared glassy, like I was staring through a sheen of tears. I collapsed face-first onto my bed and fell asleep.

  When I woke up, the sun was high in the sky. I sat up and reached for my cell phone, which usually rested on my nightstand. In my state the previous night, I realized I’d left my clutch by the door.

  I scrambled out of the tangle of blue sheets and found a discarded T-shirt. I threw it on and then padded to the front room to get my phone. My stomach rumbled with hunger, but I ignored it.

  The screen of my phone read 4:15 p.m. I had a dozen missed calls from Herron, one from a number I didn’t recognize, and a stream of text messages. With a sigh, I took the phone to the kitchen. It didn’t matter the time of day; when I woke up I needed coffee.

  As the pot brewed, I went through my voicemails. The number I didn’t recognize was from Barrett Campbell, thanking me for coming to her party but also to let me know the offer still stood: she wanted my snow globes at her friend’s gallery. Should I change my mind, I’d only have to say it to make it happen.

  I pressed a button to listen to one of Herron’s many voicemails, which seemed a bit excessive.

  “Stella!” came Herron’s frantic voice. “It’s been three days since I’ve heard from you. You promised to text when you got home from the masquerade and you haven’t—”

  I hung up immediately and opened the calendar app on my phone.

  Three days.

  I’d been asleep for three days.

  Sure, when I crashed, I crashed hard, and sleeping for days wasn’t out of the ordinary for me. But usually I knew when it was coming. I could time it. I could tell Herron so she could check on me. She liked to be aware of these sorts of…episodes.

  I sent her a quick text letting her know I was all right but that I’d had one of my crashes. I didn’t expect her to reply since she was still in Paris and she was probably in bed.

  I didn’t return Barrett’s call, not knowing what to say. Thanks for inviting me to your party? Sorry I ran out after ten minutes to chase a stranger through the lobby only to ditch him?

  Shaking my head, I poured myself a cup of coffee and sat down on the couch. I had my favorite Chinese place on speed dial, so I gave them a buzz.

  “Can you deliver it to the shop?” I asked like I had a hundred times before. “Thanks.” I hung up and set down my half-finished cup of coffee. I slid into a pair of old jeans and flip-flops.

  I felt a strange pull to my shop, a desire to look at the Garden of Eden snow globe. Shivering when I remembered the snake with indigo eyes, I thought of the stranger I’d met.

  How had he mesmerized me? How had he inspired emotion that no other man had been able to summon within me?

  I grabbed my coffee and locked up the apartment. When I got downstairs, the Chinese delivery guy was already there. I smiled and handed him a twenty, not asking for change. I tipped well every time because my food always came hot and fast, and I didn’t want that to change.

  When I was halfway through my beef and broccoli, I felt a lot more like myself and wanted to tackle the broken music box once and for all. Something told me I was close to fixing it.

  An hour later, I turned the crank of the music box. A few mournful notes warbled out, stuttered, and then fell silent.

  Yelling in frustration, I picked up the globe, wanting to throw it in anger but knowing I’d hate myself if I destroyed it. It was broken and beautiful.

  But suddenly, the haunting melody from my dream floated through the room. I felt my hair stir in the air, which had become warm and humid. I blinked heavy lids. They fell shut and I slept.

  When I opened my eyes, I realized I was under the canopy of a large tree, more vibrant and green than any I’d ever seen before—and I’d been to places where it rained nine months out of the year.

  Shiny red fruit peeped out from among the leaves, sparkling in the sunlight. I reached my hand up for one.

  A large hand met mine.

  Lucifer—my Lucifer from the masquerade—loomed over me. Sunbeams highlighted his fair skin, and his indigo eyes glowed.

  “I am here now,” he whispered, his head bending so that his lips could brush the tender skin of my neck.

  I breathed him in. He smelled of darkness. Sensual promises. Insatiable yearning.

  His tongue traced the lines of my collarbone before he pressed a kiss at the hollow of my throat.

  “I’ve waited so long for you.”

  The sun dipped behind the gray smoky clouds. Thunder boomed through the sky and lightning struck the tree, turning it black and barren.

  I screamed.

  And then I was no longer in the Garden of Eden within the snow globe—I was back in the shop.

  The man with indigo eyes stood, waiting for me, his hand outstretched. “Come with me.”

  “No,” I whispered even as my hand clasped his.

  He threw his head back and laughed. Lucifer drew me to him. His arm wrapped tightly around me like he’d never let me go.

  There was a crack and a sliver of opaque shimmery light appeared in the air, and then I fell into darkness.

  Chapter 8

  My head was a swirling mess and I was nauseous. Emotions that didn’t belong to me circled through my brain. The wall I’d erected in my mind had been blown apart, so it was nothing but rubble.

  The barrier hadn’t ever been fully down, not since I’d learned how to erect it in the first place.

  I tried to bury the emotions, but there were too many of them.

  Screaming, I clutched my head, pressing on my temples, praying I could corral the emotions. Emotions that didn’t even feel human. Which was ridiculous. I’d never felt the emotions of animals, so I doubted that’s what I felt now.

  I battered them into a tiny corner of my mind and envisioned laying a wall of bricks. It was difficult and I was distracted by the feelings attempting to claw their way out.

  Emotions didn’t like to be held prisoner.

  But I was stronger than they were, and I assaulted them back. After the mental brick wall was finally in place, my mind was blessedly silent. I felt around for my own emotions—finding them easily.

  Terror. Fear. Confusion.

  My eyes widened in bemusement as I sat up on a bed—which was larger than a California king. Dozens of fluffy white pillows graced the top. I stroked my hand across the light pink coverlet.

  Pink? Really?

  And it was frilly.

  The room was vast and opulent. I looked up at the ceiling. There was a burning ball of golden light floating in the air.

  “Okay, this is weird,” I said out loud. My voice echoed in the quiet and I shivered.

  The last I remembered, the masquerade man had been in my shop and whisked me away.

  That had been a dream, right? No way it had been real. No way this was real.

  I slowly slid off the huge bed, feeling like the princess in The Princess and the Pea. My bare feet touched the ground. I padded across the cool floor to the timber door. It looked heavy and ancient. Reaching for the iron handle, I inhaled a deep breath. I opened the door—and encountered sky.

  Puffy white clouds as far as the eye could see. I gripped the doorframe, gouging my fingernails into the wood. A sliver found its way underneath a nail and I sucked in a breath of pain and shock.

  I thought back to childhood, and how I had wanted so desperately to fly. My heart thundered in my chest and the excitement of youth overtook me.

  I stepped over the ledge.

  And then I was in free fall.

  Tears blotted my cheeks, and my hair whipped across my face. Panic set into my limbs, but it was too late.

  I knew I was going to hit the ground and die.

  The air was warm, but the clouds were cool. As I fell through them, mist caressed my skin. Finally, I had plummeted far enough to see the land below me appear. Black and gray igneous rock mountains. />
  Like Mordor, I thought hysterically.

  Just before I was about to be impaled on a sharp jagged rock, a beast with huge black wings swooped in underneath my falling body to grab me, saving me from a most gruesome death.

  I was pressed against a warm chest, the sound of flapping wings in my ears. The skin against my nose smelled like apples and honey.

  The beast growled.

  I shut my eyes tighter and listened as the wind whipped across my face.

  Suddenly, I was no longer against a bare chest. The beast plopped me down on the huge bed, in the room I’d jumped from, thinking it was all a dream. I bounced a few times and then fell back against the pillows.

  My eyes widened when I saw my savior.

  Glowing, indigo blue eyes ensnared me.

  His black wings fluttered and then retracted.

  The stranger I’d met at the masquerade had been urbane, polished. But there was no trace of that man now. He was bare-chested, showcasing beautiful rippling muscles and a trim waist. His lower half was covered in a pair of loose-fitting trousers.

  I swallowed.

  His nostrils flared and then he closed his eyes. When he opened them again, they flashed. “Damn foolish thing to do, Stella.”

  “How do you know my name?” I asked. I peered over his shoulder at the open door to see the clouds turning gray.

  He saw me look and then held up his hand and the door banged shut behind him.

  I jumped and scampered, so my back hit the headboard. Bringing up my knees, I wrapped my arms around them, attempting to make myself invisible.

  “This is a dream, this is a dream, this is a dream,” I repeated, closing my eyes. After a few minutes of silence from my companion, I peeked one eyelid open. He hadn’t moved from his spot; his hands were clenched into fists.

  “You still think this is a dream?” His voice was cool, collected. Yet somehow, I knew what he was hiding beneath it.

  He was livid.

  His rage rolled off him in waves. I felt it batter against the wall in my mind.

  “I…” My voice trailed off when he raised his hand again and windows appeared. It had been sunny and clear when I’d jumped from the ledge. Now the sky was black, thundering. Lightning streaked across the sky.