She shrugged. She supposed it was fun to be out, especially after being at home for almost a decade. “Let’s dance,” she said, pulling him to the dance floor.
Mimi danced and swayed, letting the music move through her body. She closed her eyes, enjoying the sensation and remembering a night at a club not too different from this one, when she and Kingsley had danced together. Kingsley was so handsome, and he was such a good dancer; look how he moved with that girl…
She stopped short and pushed Donovan out of the way.
Yes. That was her husband dancing with that girl. That girl who had her hands all over his chest and who was laughing as she pressed something into his hand.
Kingsley smiled his lazy smile and took it and murmured something in her ear.
Then he looked up and saw her.
Mimi just stared at him, and then she turned around and walked out of the club, out into the cold, her tears already freezing on her face. It had been warm lately, until now, the weather changing on a dime.
“MIMI!”
He was running after her.
She didn’t know where she was going or what she wanted; she just wanted to get out, and the girl—she looked so much like the girl she had seen in his mind the other day—when she had peeked into his memories (a young girl so much like her that for a moment she had thought it was her), and Mimi felt her heart not break exactly, but frost over with a cold rage; she had been faithful to him—but, of course, he had not. There he was, running around with girls again, and this one was so young and so pretty. Mimi felt the spike of jealousy and envy and hatred, and it fueled her as she raced to the corner, desperate to find a cab and be anywhere but here.
“Mimi.” Kingsley was standing in front of her now, panting.
“Don’t say a word! I don’t want to talk to you! So this is what you’ve been up to!”
“It’s not what it looks like,” he said.
“Really? She’s practically a child! I think it looks exactly like what I think it looks like.” She spat the words.
“Mimi,” Kingsley said. “I’ll explain everything, darling, please. Hear me out.”
“You have nothing to say to me that I want to hear,” she said. It all made sense now. His mysterious disappearances, his guilt, his secrecy. This was what he was doing in New York.
He was back to his old tricks, back to running around—she didn’t believe he had run around on her before, but there was always a first time, wasn’t there? There’s always a first time for everything, he always said.
She remembered the way he’d looked in there, dancing with that young girl, and it made her feel old, and useless, and unattractive, and she’d never felt like that before. She was Mimi Force! The most beautiful girl in the history of New York City. But the truth was, there were so many beautiful girls, and so many younger girls, everywhere you looked. They were a dime a dozen, really—there was nothing special about her, not anymore.
God she hated him, because Kingsley had made her feel special, had made her feel chosen, had made her feel that she was more than her looks, that he loved her for her soul. But the truth was, she was no longer the girl she had been, no longer at the height of her glory. He was just like all the rest, just like a man, eager for a new toy, tired of his old one. Perhaps she should move to France, where they appreciated women like her. Of course anyone else would have slapped her on the head to hear such talk, as she had barely turned thirty.
He kept calling her name, but as she did back in Hell, she kept walking away.
When she got home, she still felt awful. She couldn’t believe it. She knew he was keeping something from her—but she didn’t really believe that it was this. So stupid. She was so very stupid. Mimi stood in her walk-in closet, removing her shoes, when she was suddenly grabbed from behind.
“Don’t move. Don’t turn around,” a dark and menacing voice commanded. “Don’t make a sound.” Soon she was blindfolded, and before she could reach for her sword, hidden as a needle in her bra, her hands were tied behind her back with silver handcuffs that kept her from moving.
“Kingsley, this isn’t funny,” she growled. Because of course it was him—coming to apologize in the only way he knew how. “If you think you can make love to me now, you’re wrong. Let me go!”
“But you’re so hot like this,” said the voice in her ear. “And I don’t want to. I should’ve done this the minute I got back to the city. I don’t know why it didn’t occur to me until now.”
She wanted to curse him, but she could already feel her body respond to his, could feel how hot and hard he was, and despite her anger, she started to feel very aroused.
“Kingsley, if you don’t let me go, I’ll—”
“You’ll what?” And Kingsley only laughed softly, and with one slash of his knife tore her dress in two, and did the same quick work with the rest of her garments.
“I swear…,” she said, breathing heavily, her heart pounding. But she could feel her defenses weakening with every moment, every thrill.
He pushed her to the floor facedown, and she could hear him unbuckling his belt.
“Isn’t this what you wanted? To have a little fun?” he whispered. “To celebrate our anniversary?”
“I hate you,” Mimi said. “I hate you so much.”
“I hate you, too,” he said and kissed her neck.
She was shaking. What was going on with him? They had never done this before—never played this way—and it was turning her on, her stomach sick with anticipation. Dear Lord, he was right. She wanted this—wanted him—so badly. “Don’t!” she breathed.
“Don’t what?” he panted.
“Don’t stop,” she whispered, hating herself for loving him still.
He grinned and nipped her with his fangs. Vampires weren’t supposed to drink each other’s blood, but Kingsley often broke the rules. She felt his blood mingle with hers.
Then he was inside her, and she was arching her back against him and riding wave after wave of exquisite pleasure until she thought she might actually pass out. In seven years, they had never had hotter sex.
They lay together entwined for a few moments; then Kingsley gently unwound the blindfold, and when she turned around, he was looking at her with so much love and tenderness she almost forgave him. Almost.
She wrestled out of his embrace. “Don’t think this means anything,” she said. “Look what you did! You ruined another Chanel!”
He raised an eyebrow. “You said you wanted to have a little fun, and that’s what we had.”
“What are you doing here, anyway?” she asked as she reached for her robe and tugged it around her waist.
“I wanted to explain. About everything. But you wouldn’t listen, so I thought—”
Why not have sex, because sex was the way they connected. Wasn’t that the truth—he had shown her, with his body, that he was still in love with her, that no one could replace her, and that no one had. She knew that now; she had seen it in their blood bond, had read the truth in it. But she was still angry at him.
“So if you weren’t sleeping with that girl, then why were you with her? What have you really been doing in the city?” she asked. His blood only told her he had been faithful, but not the rest of the story.
So Kingsley told her.
“We have to tell Oliver what’s going on,” Mimi said when he was done. She fingered the small plastic bag stamped with five silver triangles that Kingsley had shown her, and she shuddered to think what it had contained. This was what the girl had pressed into his hand when they were dancing. She couldn’t believe it quite yet. But if what Kingsley had discovered was true, then this was malice of the most insidious kind. “You can’t keep this from him, not anymore. That pentagram on his building means he’s a target as well. The Nephilim—and whoever is leading them—is out for him. Out for mortal blood, and since Oliver was once mortal—he’s vulnerable in a way the rest of us aren’t.”
“Well, what are we waiting for? Let’s go
see him,” he said. “No time like the present to foil the demons.”
“No—it will be too suspicious if we show up at his office unannounced. We don’t want to alert whoever’s behind this.” She told him about Chris Jackson and the serpent she wore around her throat, the one with the stones from Lucifer’s Bane. The White Worm.
“Do you really think it’s her?” Kingsley asked. “Somehow I don’t see it. Although she is the head of the Committee.”
“I don’t know. Maybe. Remember, her brother…,” Mimi said. She realized she was doing the same thing that others had done to Kingsley, holding his past against him. “Maybe not. Oliver will find out. It’s his Coven. He should deal with it.”
“So if we can’t meet with him at headquarters, then what?”
“We’ll catch him at the Four Hundred Ball. There will be a huge crowd; we can blend in, there will be tons of strange vampires there,” she said. “We’ll tell him what’s been happening inside his own Coven.”
He nodded. “What you said earlier—about you and me—are we done?” Kingsley asked. He looked tired and sad, and every year of his age showed on his face for a moment, and her heart ached for him, but she wasn’t ready to let him off just yet.
“Say something, darling,” he said.
“I don’t know,” she said, unwilling to give in just yet.
“I’ll wait,” he said. “I’ll wait till you make your decision. In the meantime, I guess we should get ready for this party.”
29 PROM NIGHT
YOU GONNA MAKE ME WAIT out here all night? ’Cause I think the old lady in 9B has a thing for me.”
Ara peered through the keyhole to find Edon waiting at her door, wearing the new tuxedo he’d rented from the shop. He stood there stiffly, like the sleek suit jacket might as well have been a bulletproof vest.
He probably wishes it was, Ara thought, unchaining the door with a smile.
At least he was freshly shaved, clean and handsome. His golden-brown eyes glinted and his grin was genuine. She opened the door and he struck a playful pose. “Come on, tell me you can’t resist; no one can resist a wolf in a penguin suit.”
“Wow,” she said. “You really clean up nice. For a penguin.”
He stared at her, forgetting about the pose. Ara smiled. She’d seen herself in the mirror just before the buzzer had rung. She knew where this was going.
“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” he said, suddenly shy and dismissive. He tried not to look at her. “You ever really smell a penguin? All them birds shitting on one giant ice cube? Those bad boys’ll curl your toes. I got myself posted in South America once—”
She shot him a look and he shut himself up. Still, she couldn’t help but smile. I look so good I made a penguin babble.
“Right. Yeah. You don’t look too bad yourself, Scott.” He looked her up and down in the black tuxedo suit she was wearing. It was from the latest spring collection, designer, with a cropped jacket, skintight pants, and a silk shirt she left daringly unbuttoned. His eyes lingered on the very last button. “But don’t worry, you’re still not my type.”
“You know, I think the boy protests too much,” she said, pushing her way past him, holding the beaded clutch where she kept her gun and her blades.
He followed her down the stairs. “Yeah? Then you don’t know much.” She could almost hear him smiling as he said it, even if she couldn’t see his face.
“I know you’re staring at my ass right now,” she said with a smile of her own. She stopped just inside the front door.
He barked a laugh and pushed the door open.
“You could do worse. At least a penguin mates for life, angel,” he said, reddening unexpectedly as he held the door for her.
She ignored the angel dig. Truthfully, she was almost starting to like it. At least it didn’t offend her, the way he said it. Teasingly, like they were friends. And she realized something: they were friends.
The night was cool and clear, the whole street lit by the front headlights of the sleek, black car in front of them.
Ara looked confused. “You got a car service? For me?”
“Nah. I got it for the vintage hottie in 9B.” Edon shrugged, pulling open the limo door. “But now that you’re here, you might as well get that sweet ass inside.”
She smiled, shaking her head—but all the same, she slid onto the black upholstered leather seat. “This isn’t a date, you know.”
“It’s the Four Hundred Ball. We need to live a little,” he said, scooting in after her. “And besides, I didn’t think you wanted to go on the back of my bike. What with all the, you know, hair situation you got going on there. Is that what they call a ‘do’?”
Ara punched him in the arm and glared. She had styled her hair differently that night, making sure her long platinum bangs swept over one eye. He was right, but she wasn’t going to let him know that. “My hair would have been fine. We’re not going to prom together, asshole.”
Edon scoffed. “Yeah, you wish.”
She made a face. “I don’t wish.”
“Sure you do. You and all the lovely ladies. It’s all right. You don’t have to be embarrassed about it, angel.”
Ara just rolled her eyes.
Edon winked at her. “But I’ll let you in on a little secret. Hounds like me, we don’t go to proms.”
She raised an eyebrow. “Yeah? And what is it hounds like you do, Marrok?”
He leaned closer. She could feel his breathy whisper in her ear as he spoke, his tone as low and solemn as if he were telling a pack secret. “We spike the punch bowl and eat all the penguins.”
She shoved him as hard as she could, and he went flying against the inside of his door. “Oww. All right. Jesus. No wonder it’s just you and 9B up there all alone. You’re a couple of thugs.”
“But we’re your thugs,” she said with a smile.
They sat in comfortable silence as the car moved at a crawl with all the traffic. Ara decided to finally ask Edon a question that she’d been wondering about ever since they met. She glanced at Edon, taking in his long, lean form and his glittering golden eyes. Edon Marrok, the golden wolf. Back in his glory. “What happened to you?” she asked.
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, from what I hear, you used to look like this all the time.”
“Ouch, Scott—you saying I look like shit the rest of the time?” he asked, side eyeing her.
“You know what I mean. Stop acting all sensitive.”
Edon fiddled with his cuff links. “Yeah, well. You’re not the first girl to notice, if that’s what you’re thinking.” He grinned.
She shook her head. “Yeah, yeah. All the lovely ladies.” But they both knew that wasn’t what she was talking about.
And Edon didn’t have a comeback this time.
“Who was she?” Ara put her hand on his arm, softly. A new kind of gesture. One that they’d never tried out before, not between the two of them. He looked down at her hand.
“Her name is Ahramin. She was my mate,” he said, his voice soft and sad.
“What happened to her?” she asked, sympathetic. “Did you lose her in the War?”
“Yeah, I did.” Then he looked up, and seeing her face, he quickly corrected, “No, not like that. I didn’t lose her in the War. I lost her because of the War.”
“What are you talking about?”
“She’s alive. She’s fine. She’s out there guarding the timeline like a good wolf.” He shook his head. “We had—Well, that was some fucked-up shit.”
“What happened?”
“It’s a long story, but when the wolves escaped from Hell, Ahramin got left behind, and she never really forgave me.”
“Yikes. Sorry, man.”
Edon ran his fingers through his thick, honey-colored hair. “Yeah, well, can’t have everything.”
“But what about you and Deming?” she asked.
“Oh, that was after the battle. After she lost her… you know,” he said. “She was sort of cra
zed—I guess I was, too—after Ari said she didn’t want me anymore. We… ah… consoled each other.” He suddenly looked as awkward as she felt, and she pulled her hand away from his arm.
“Right,” she said, shifting in her seat and feeling inexplicably annoyed.
“Yeah, well, blood sex, battle fatigue. Anyway…,” he said moodily. “Let’s not dwell on the past.” His eyes flickered back to her face, and he tried to muster a smile. “We only get one prom night.”
Ara nodded, reaching into the cheesy limo minibar, pulling out a bottle of drugstore champagne. She yanked open the screw top and handed it to Edon.
“To fucking prom.”
He swigged at the bottle, wiping his now-grinning mouth with the back of his hand. “To fucking penguins.”
She drank from the bottle and let the city sights flash past them, noticing the Empire State Building bathed in a bright blue light for the Coven. Nice touch, she thought, impressed by the Regent’s reach and connections.
They were in Manhattan now, making their way to Midtown, toward the museum. As the limo moved up the street, it also moved toward the light. A beacon shot light directly into the sky from what had to be the museum, as if the entire city of New York was just a decoration on the perimeter of what was destined to be the event of the season.
“Such bullshit.” Edon shook his head.
“It’s the scope of the thing. That’s what’s so impressive. One word from the Regent and the whole city shuts down.” She was as amazed as he was, now that she was seeing it for herself.
“All for a fucking party.” He sounded disgusted, and she smiled. At least you knew where you stood with the wolf.
He called bullshit on everything, every time, and there was something to be said for that. It was refreshing that he said what he was thinking, which was a rare quality even among the truth tellers. She thought about how they had questioned Finn Chase yesterday. Ara had sworn that the Regent’s girlfriend was hiding something, but her words had the ring of truth. As a Venator, Ara hadn’t given it a second thought; after all, no mortal could lie to her and get away with it. Maybe Ara was just seeing shadows everywhere.
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