Web of Lies: Trueborn Heirs Series Book 2

by Nyna Queen

  “On the other hand …” Cecile’s jade eyes fixed Darken’s backside with calculating interest. “He is quite something to look at, isn’t he?”

  “So?” The woman in the sunset dress scoffed. “What of it? Do you want him to court you?”

  Cecile pulled a face. “Don’t be ridiculous. No honorable woman would ever consider something so degrading. It’s common knowledge that they are not fit for a social life. No.” A sly expression crossed Cecile’s features, sending Alex’s hackles up. She squeezed the hairpin.

  “But that’s not the only thing men are good for, now, is it?”

  “What are you talking about, Cecile?” the girl in the ugly yellow dress asked.

  Cecile waved a hand. “Oh, Varenia, you’re so naive!” She smirked. “Well, word is forfeits provide the most interesting services.” She lasciviously ran her hand between her breasts.

  Lights of understanding turned on upon most of the faces around her. Now Cecile definitely had all the attention. And she was enjoying it.

  “But … isn’t that incredibly dangerous?” someone asked.

  “Well, that’s the whole point, Carmilla!” Cecile giggled. “I heard the adrenaline rush provides for the most spectacular orgasm. And, of course, they are being restrained for the purpose. At least, when the woman is someone of importance.” She cocked her head to the side, pursing her lips coyly. “I think I might give it a try. After all, Darken is a very handsome man and I was told they cannot refuse. They even need it. In fact, the Order pays women to satisfy their carnal desires.”

  Some of the younger women gasped, both engrossed and fascinated.

  “Lexy, are you okay?” Bonny was looking at Alex, her brow furrowed in concern.

  Alex followed the other woman’s gaze down to her hands. They were clenched into tight fists, trembling so hard that her champagne was threatening to spill over the rim of the glass. A drop of blood fell from her other hand; she’d snapped the hairpin and the broken ends were piercing her skin from the outside just as her claws were piercing it from the inside.

  Anger was surging through Alex like a drug shot. The scent of blood filled her nose and the lights around her became brighter, sharper.

  She focused on Cecile’s slender neck. She could see the blood pumping underneath the thin, milk-white skin. That sweet, sweet flow of life, red, hot, and sooo delicious.

  The spider snarled and ripped at its invisible leash, pushing against the seams of Alex’s human skin.

  She was about to lose it.

  “I’m feeling a little queasy,” Alex squeezed through gritted teeth. “Probably too much champagne. I think I need to go to the restroom.” Her voice sounded breathless.

  Bonny gave her arm a sympathetic squeeze. “Do you want me to accompany you?”

  “Nah, I’m fine. Be right back.” Before the other woman could protest, Alex shoved her champagne glass into Bonny’s hand and bolted.

  ALEX burst into the twilit cloister that surrounded most of the ballroom, shaking all over. Fury coursed through her bloodstream: blinding, all-consuming rage.

  The bitch!

  She swept around and began to pace back and forth, her fists clenched so hard she felt the tips of her claws digging into her palms.

  Bitch.

  Bitch!

  BITCH!

  How dare she speak about Darken like this! He wasn’t a tool. Or a toy. He also wasn’t a whore.

  Restrain him for her amusement, that’s what she wanted, yes? Well, if she wanted a rough ride, Alex would give her a rough ride. She’d go back and snap the bitch’s stupid neck. She’d sink her teeth into that soft, milky skin and rip out her throat. She would gut that bitch and splatter the pristine marble with her rotten blood. She would—

  No!

  Alex stumbled against a column and braced one hand against it, head bent over, breathing hard. Her heart was racing furiously in her chest.

  She had to calm down. If she went out there now and killed the little snob, she’d ruin everything. Not only that but she’d also be signing her death warrant, and most likely Stephane and Darken’s, too.

  Get a grip, sugar! Come on, get a grip!

  The spider struggled against its leash, clawing upward, wild for blood. Sweet Jester, she was usually so good at not slipping, and yet here she was, hanging on by nothing but a thread.

  Alex shivered and concentrated on breathing in and out.

  Deep breath. That’s it. Nice and easy.

  Slowly, very, very slowly, her true skin retreated into her core, although the spider kept hissing and spitting resentfully.

  When Alex felt sure enough that she wouldn't sink her teeth into the next person that looked at her in a funny way, she straightened up.

  There you go, sugar. Baby steps. Tiny baby steps. No gutting today.

  Taking another deep breath, Alex turned away from the column and ran straight into a blond man in an elegant black tuxedo, who’d entered the cloister behind her.

  They stared at each other for a breathless second.

  The torchlight flickered over his handsome features.

  The man’s eyes widened. A bolt of panic shot through Alex.

  With a mumbled apology, she quickly lowered her head and pushed past him, heading down the corridor.

  Not quickly enough.

  “Alex?”

  She froze mid-step, as if she’d run into a solid wall. The world took one, two, three breaths without her and she felt as if she was falling, unable to stop her rapid plunge into the darkness.

  Sweet Jester, no. Please no.

  Alex sensed the man taking a hesitant step toward her.

  She closed her eyes. No, this couldn’t be. It just couldn’t.

  “Alex?”

  Perhaps if she’d just kept walking he would have believed that the shadows had played a trick on him. That surely, he must have been mistaken.

  Well, too late for that now.

  Slowly turning on the spot, Alex faced the man behind her, who was staring at her from wide, familiar blue eyes. She exhaled.

  “Hi there, brother.”

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  THE man standing across from Alex was in his late twenties, well-built, handsome, and without a doubt her older half brother, Makesh. If his looks hadn’t given him away—he’d grown up to resemble their sire in an uncanny way: same masculine jaw, same straight nose, same hooded blue eyes, he even wore his thick blond hair in the same kind of ponytail—then his movements would have. Whenever they had played hide-and-seek at their sire’s mansion as kids, Alex had always been able to tell where Makesh hid in a matter of minutes, because he was simply unable to keep still for more than thirty seconds and the vibrations tended to give him away. He’d never stop grumbling about it, sure that she was cheating in some way. But no matter how much he’d complained, Alex had never told him her trick …

  These memories flashed through Alex’s mind as she glared at the blond man in front of her and before her inner eye he morphed back into the fourteen-year-old teenage boy she’d last seen through a dusty window as she was carted off to an unknown future, a little girl in the back of a coach. Yet the grown man across from her was no more that boy than she was that little girl anymore. The question was, was there anything left of the children they once had been?

  Makesh’s gaze frantically moved up and down Alex’s frame, finally resting on her face, equal parts shock and incredulity as if he’d just seen a ghost come to life. Which, from his perspective, probably wasn’t too far from the truth.

  He blinked, his head swaying from side to side in silent denial. Uncertainty laced his voice. “Alex? Is—is that really you?”

  “In the flesh, dear brother.”

  His mouth opened and closed several times.

  “But … how? I mean … what—what are you doing here?”

  Yeah, good question. It occurred to Alex that not only was he seeing his long-lost shaper sister coming back to life after more than ten years, but also, that i
t was inside the Royal Palace—of all the places she shouldn’t be. That would strike anyone as odd.

  Scrambling for an answer that wasn’t going to screw everything, Alex said the first thing that popped into her mouth: “Work.”

  “Work?” he asked, clearly bewildered.

  Now, come on, Alex, you better dish up a convincing story.

  Her synapses were firing so rapidly, it was surprising that her head didn’t start smoking.

  “Yep, work,” she confirmed. “For Stephane Dubois-Léclaire—”

  Makesh’s eyes bulged. “You’re working for the senator of Lancaester?”

  “That’s him. Senator, cross-bearer, and all that.” She lowered her voice and her brother automatically took a step closer. “If you ask around, you’ll find that I am here under the name of Alexandre de Nuy, a lady of low royalty with personal connections to the Dubois. That’s my cover.” Her brain worked feverishly, while her mouth talked. “You probably heard of the Manor Creek incident and all that shaper trouble before and after? Yeah, thought so. Well, St—his lordship is conducting a secret investigation on the matter. You know, what with his position in the debate and all.” She shrugged. “I’m part of his undercover investigation team. Someone ‘from the other side,’ so to speak.”

  The trick with lying was to tell enough of the truth so that people wouldn’t think too much about the gaps in between.

  Her brother was glaring at her with his mouth hanging open. “So … So he knows about your …?” His gaze dropped to her hands and he blushed.

  Instinctively, Alex curled her fingers and pulled them toward her chest. She swallowed the pain of this silent reminder. “Sure he does. Wouldn’t be of much use to him otherwise, would I?”

  Alex surveyed her brother, wondering if she’d just woven a web of half-truths and lies that would eventually strangle her.

  Makesh slowly shook his head and raked his hand through his hair several times, unconsciously unraveling his ponytail. After a moment, though, his mouth split into a wide grin.

  “Mother’s mercy and Jester’s grace! You did it, Alex. You really did it!” He shook his head again. “All those years … I was so worried about you … I-I thought you might have died! But here you are and … I mean, look at you! You look—wow! And you’re wearing a dress!” He chuckled. “I mostly remember a little tomboy in ripped pants.” He rubbed a hand over his mouth. “And now … working for Stephane Dubois-Léclaire! The Roaring Lion himself!”

  That’s what they call him, huh?

  Makesh smiled. “I swear, I would never have believed … But you—you really did it, little sister!”

  Alex forced her lips into a semblance of a smile. Oh, if he knew that his baby sister was a broke waitress from the halfborn nether, as well as a wanted murderer and that everything could fall apart with one wrong word … But he looked so utterly relieved, there was no way she could actually tell him the truth.

  “Yeah,” Alex concluded a little lamely, “who’d have thought!”

  “I just can’t believe it.” Her brother didn’t seem to notice her lack of enthusiasm. “My little sister—working for Stephane Dubois-Léclaire!”

  “That’s all top secret, of course!” Alex warned quietly. “If my cover was blown …”

  “Of course, of course.” Makesh was still grinning like a madman. “Nobody’s gonna hear a word from me. It’s just so … incredible! Wait until Kizdan finds out. He’s gonna flip!”

  “Is—is he here as well?” Hope and panic fought a battle inside Alex’s gut. If their middle brother was also here …

  Makesh shook his head. “Nah, his wife is in puerperal with their first and he canceled the trip on short notice to stay with her. She’s had a loss before, you see, and she’s been having premature labor. He’s been a bundle of nerves these past weeks.”

  It took Alex a moment to process his words. “He—he’s got a baby?”

  “A healthy boy.” Makesh nodded with an even wider smile. “Born this morning. Eighteen-point-six inches and six-point-two pounds. Naming Ceremony will be at the end of next week.”

  It felt as if she’d been hit by a hammer. Mother’s mercy and Jester’s grace! She was an aunt. Half aunt. Whatever.

  Her brother glanced at her from the side, suddenly hesitant. “Do you—?”

  Alex’s eyes widened. “Me? Sweet Jester, no!” She paused, almost not daring to ask. “And you?”

  “Two.” His features glowed with a father’s pride. “A girl and a boy.” Her brother reached into his pocket and produced a small Echeranion Sphere with a single slot—replay purposes only. A spark of magic brushed against Alex and a three-dimensional picture appeared in the air between them: a sweet little girl with a blond curly head and a slightly older boy with silken brown hair and amber eyes. “Norah, after Mom and Alexander, after Dad.”

  “They are beautiful,” Alex said, stunned.

  “Thanks.” Makesh beamed.

  Alex felt … she didn’t know. Empty? She was a triple aunt. To kids she’d likely never see.

  Her brother deactivated the sphere and put it back in his pocket.

  They looked at each other. After the first burst of joy of reunion, a slight awkwardness began to fill the space between them.

  Makesh cleared his throat and reached out, taking Alex’s hand in his. The touch felt familiar and at the same time, not at all. “It’s truly good to see you, Alex,” he said softly. “After you had gone …” He exhaled. “Aunt Sheila wouldn’t tell us where they had taken you. Believe me, we asked. We did.” Pain crinkled the skin around his eyes. Pain … and guilt? “After a while, she told us that you were dead.”

  Oh, she sure would have liked that. “And how is dear Auntie Sheila these days?” Alex couldn’t keep the bitter-sweet venom out of her voice.

  A slightly arrested look slid over Makesh’s face. “She died. Aneurysm. Two years ago.” He scratched the back of his neck. “Guess she had it coming with all those temper tantrums. She’d had hypertension for a long time.” He shrugged. “It was a small funeral. She wasn’t exactly well-loved.”

  I wonder why. Alex searched herself for some kind of emotion, but there was nothing. Not even relief. Still, this was one of those moments where you were meant to say something. “Well, I—”

  A wave of skin-crawling heat rolled over Alex, raising every single hair on her neck.

  Why me? Alex briefly closed her eyes and ground her teeth. That man had an inborn talent of always appearing at exactly the wrong moment.

  Without a sound, Darken glided into the cloister, materializing from the shadows beside her like some demon conjured from thin air. His gaze locked on Alex’s hand, which her brother was still holding and then fixed on Makesh with predatory intensity. It was the same look he’d given his own brother when he had kissed Alex’s fingers, only a hundred times worse.

  Makesh paled and Alex felt his pulse quickening in fear. Still, he took a determined step forward, placing himself between her and Darken. Ready to protect her, Alex realized. More than ten years had passed, but he was still her brother. And he was about to get himself killed for her. Stupid fool!

  A soft, ruby glow ignited in the back of Darken’s eyes and his smile turned gentle, almost sleepy.

  Her half brother shivered but stood his ground.

  They glared at each other and the strong, musky smell of testosterone filled the air. Ready to fight. Over her. All that was missing was some stupid territorial prancing contest.

  Males! Damn them all to the bowels of hell!

  Before the situation could escalate, Alex quickly slid around her brother to Darken’s side and wrapped her hands around his arm with an imploring smile. The idiot stiffened.

  “Hey, babe!” Alex drawled sweetly, leaning even more into him, willing him to relax. “This is my half brother Makesh Sylvaigne.”

  Relax, damn you!

  Finally catching on, Darken’s arm snuck around her and pulled her to his side with such force that she almost
winced. Ouch!

  Suppressing a grimace, Alex smiled at her half brother. “Brother, I’m sure you’ve heard of Darken Dubois?”

  Makesh inclined his head with tense respect. “Enforcer.” Then something seemed to click. His eyes widened as they fell on Darken’s arm that was clenching Alex to his side. “Wait a minute! Babe? The two of you are—?

  “Yep!” Alex flashed him another smile, trying to ignore the squeezing pain in her upper arm and ribs. “In fact, we are. We met while I was working for Senator Dubois-Léclaire.” She emphasized the word in Darken’s direction. “And, well … you know how the story goes. It sorta just happened.” She shrugged. Or rather, tried to. Darken wasn’t giving her an inch. That would leave a bruise most certainly.

  “His family doesn’t know about us yet, though,” Alex added. “So I’d highly appreciate it, if you wouldn’t tell anyone.” She lowered her voice confidentially. “We want to wait until things have calmed down a little more. They’ve had to deal with such a lot lately: the abduction attempt and all that. We didn’t want to burden them with this as well, because of … well, you know …” Alex raised her hand and wiggled her fingers, the pain in her voice not all feigned.

  Makesh blinked. Blinked again. “Oh. Ohhhh. Sure.” He nodded. “Of course. Your secret is safe with me.”

  A shaky laugh escaped his lips. “My little sister … in love with a forfeit!” He shook his head. “Well, you always liked to live dangerously, sis. No offense,” he added with a nervous side glance in Darken’s direction.

  “None taken,” Darken replied, while his deep voice clearly indicated otherwise.

  Makesh swallowed but he seemed to have lost his initial fear. He gave them a slightly sheepish grin. “Well, since the two of you are together, I see it as my brotherly duty to warn you, my lord”—Darken stiffened and his fingers dug even deeper into Alex’s skin—“she’s a particularly stubborn little spider.”

  Thank the Jester, Darken relaxed a little at that, finally allowing the blood to flow in her arm again.