by Gaja J. Kos
Rose growled in response, her eyes gradually adjusting to the illuminated environment. The chamber–and it truly was a chamber in the aristocratic sense of the word–was richly decorated. Cobalt blue walls were lined with deep gold streaks, the same shade that tastefully framed the sizable arched windows embedded along the whole length of the wall, flooding the space with sunlight. Judging by the luxurious vintage upholstered furniture, she safely presumed she was standing, or rather was being forced to stand, in the middle of a sitting room.
“Oh.” She exhaled, bottling her anger as she traced the origin of the words to a tall figure leaning back in a gold-dipped futon. “Hello, Veles.”
Although Rose had never met the god in person, he was substantially linked to her bloodline, making it impossible for a descendant of Mokoš to be unaware of his existence–or his decadent reputation. Despite her combative instinct, she slowly shifted back into her fully human form, with Veles's olive green eyes observing her intently.
“That's much, much better.” His seductive voice caressed her senses, making her even more angered by her indisputable abduction. “Let the hellion go.”
Rose scowled at the cocky god; nonetheless, both pairs of hands released their grip in flawless coordination, allowing her to let out a breath. The figures disappeared through the door before she managed to catch a glimpse of them, leaving her alone with the god.
“Come, take a seat.” Veles tapped on the intimately small vacant spot next to him on the futon, the corners of his lips tugged in a devious smile.
She approached him and confidently sat down on the adjacent sofa, returning the smile. He observed her, intrigue flaring in his glimmering green eyes.
“You are willful, aren't you...” It wasn't a question. He shifted upward, flexing his arm across the headrest, displaying his slender, yet muscularly-built body clad in tight black leather pants and a black T-shirt that hugged the light swell of his athletic chest. A smug expression formed on his face as he caught her eyes wandering over his outstretched body.
Silently, she cursed herself for the slight slip-up, and fighting the blush that wanted to taint her cheeks, she forced her gaze to stay on his eyes only. Not that he made it any easier for her, since she saw nothing but hunger within the rich olive green color, rimmed with a subtle line of pure black.
“Mind telling me what the fuck I'm doing here?” she snarled, holding on to the displeasure caused by her abduction as she painfully tried to ignore just how pleasing the dark-haired god's features were.
“I will give you my help.”
Such arrogance, Rose thought. However, she had every intention to learn just what he understood as help. Still, that didn't mean she would simply swallow her pride and compliantly listen to a monolog of a presumptuous hotshot, even if said hotshot was a ridiculously powerful god of the underworld.
“And you kidnap everybody you offer your assistance to?”
“I only offer my assistance to you.”
The quick answer surprised her; he had used the same seductive tone as before, but underneath it lay a plainspoken sincerity she hadn't expected.
“Still, you could have asked.” It was a foolish thing to say to a god who had never asked for anything in his extensive lifetime; however, Rose didn't have any intention to let the forcefulness of his invitation slip away that easily.
“It was quicker this way.” The sheer audaciousness of his words left her speechless; it was clear that she had been drawn into a world that followed a completely different logic, a different set of rules, to be precise—Veles's set of rules. “Besides, you wouldn't have come.”
Rose wanted to argue, but there was truth in what he said. She wouldn't have diverted from the schedule she had set for herself, especially for a promise of knowledge from someone she hadn't thought of as a reliable source. A reliable one-night stand, maybe, but certainly not a source.
“My pack. They'll think I've gone missing. Not that they would be seriously mistaken, but–”
“I've sent word through Sebastian.” Confidence thriving in his voice. “He let them know you have been detained.”
“Sebastian knew?” Rose cried, frown lines forming between her brows. “I'm going to claw that bastard.”
Veles chuckled. It was an alluring sound; Rose had to remind herself again there was nothing actually alluring when it came to the immortal lord of the underworld.
“I'd be amused to see that.” His words delicately fondled her augmented senses. “Please, do invite me if it comes to that.”
She had zero intention of inviting him anywhere, but she let the comment slip. She shot him a miffed look instead, causing the god to laugh anew.
“Are you sure you wouldn't prefer to sit a little closer?” He ran his fingers through his raven black hair before stroking the unoccupied space dangerously close to his midriff.
“I'd much rather get down to business.”
Rose almost bit off her tongue as the words left her lips, and the spark in Veles's eyes spoke volumes about the mistake she had made.
“Oh, why didn't you say so before? We wouldn't have spent so much of our time on useless chatter,” Veles whispered. He sat up and leaned over to grasp her legs firmly at the delicate spot just over her knees.
The brushing motion of his thumbs sent shivers through her body. He angled his head, causing the flawless black strands to sweep across his shoulders. It took all the willpower she had not to fist her fingers in his decadently dark hair.
“Screw you,” she whispered in a husky voice, not having the strength to particularly care that she had just allowed another mistake to slip through her lips.
“Oh, you will.” A cocksure statement. He trailed the inside of her thigh upwards to the hem of her shorts, fondling the folded fabric between his fingers. “But”—the grip of his hand spread around her thigh, the tips of his fingers resting perilously on the lower curve of her hip—“first we have to do deal with the dryly pragmatic reason of your presence here.”
He stood abruptly, leaving Rose dumbfounded on the sofa. She managed to come to her senses only after a triumphant smile stretched across his face, bringing her out of her wanton haziness. She scowled at him, but the god merely gestured for her to follow him through a heavy double pre-hung mahogany door leading out of the chamber. She grunted as she got up from the sofa but quickly caught up with his long strides.
He led her down a long hallway, the tight fabric of his pants pronouncing every muscle as he walked in front of her. “We'll discuss business after you get some rest. The trip must have been tiresome.”
The bluntness of his command made her desire nothing more than to sink her claws into the nape of his neck; however, she reckoned he might have enjoyed it.
“I really don't have time –”
He turned around with inhuman speed, pinning her against the cool surface of the wall. His lips brushed against the side of her exposed neck. “Don't worry, wolfie, I'll get you back home before the bloodbath starts.”
Intensifying warmth spread through her core as she felt the demand of his body pressed tightly against her. He smiled in her ear, the faint touch of his breath provoking shivers down her spine. With one hand still pinning her to the wall, he gently traced her body with the other, outlining the curve of her breast.
“But first”—he lowered his hand, letting it rest on the top of her hip—“you need to rest.”
Without another word, he released her and continued to stride down the hallway. Annoyed out of her mind, she tried to catch her breath as soundlessly as she could, eager to avoid giving the god any further amusement on her behalf.
He stopped in front of a French door with deep green glass inserts lined with a fine trail of gold; he fingered the doorknob in a way that made her mind flush with images she'd much rather keep at bay before showing her inside. The room was more of a small apartment than anything else, tastefully furnished with pieces from another time, yet remaining spacious and bright.
“Do try and rest. And no playing with yourself when I'm not around.” With that final remark he left her alone, shutting the door behind him.
Despite feeling irked by the forced period of rest, she had to admit she was worn out; she gave in to the allure of the high king-size bed, throwing off her clothes as she lay under the lightweight silk sheets. Sleep came over her almost instantly, making her forget–at least for the time being–any resentment towards the god who did wholly as he pleased.
Rose woke up several hours later, feeling that her energy levels had been adequately replenished. She took advantage of the luxurious bathroom adjacent to her room, letting the water rinse the travel from her hair and skin. Amused by the fact that Veles, someone who wasn't known for entertaining guests at his residence for more than one night, had procured a drier for her. She amusingly pondered for a moment if it was, by chance, actually his own, since that shining cascade of raven hair didn't style itself. She let the warm gush of air flow through her strands. It was only after she thoroughly pampered herself that she noticed the fresh clothes put out for her use.
A sultry red dress was spread across the futon, its color and cut serving as an open invitation for a night of debauchery. The garment was stunning; however, she had no intention of offering herself to Veles on a platter, as much as she ached to feel the fine red fabric on her skin. She sighed in relief when she saw a pair of tight black pants and a form-fitting top piled neatly next to it. Naturally, she was reluctant to wear the clothes he had laid out for her. However, since she traveled to New York with very light luggage, she didn't truly have much of a choice.
She was pleasantly surprised to find the combat-appropriate side of the outfit outweighed the seductiveness of its skin-tight form. He put thought into this. She frowned at the idea of him knowing her far too well for her taste. She was one of the few weres who actually wore combat clothes since she preferred to fight in a half-shifted state rather than completely transformed.
A light knock on the door gave her barely enough time to zip up her pants before Veles vehemently strode into her room and threw himself invitingly on the crumpled silk sheets.
“Hungry?”
She nodded without speaking a word, having learned her lesson twice before.
“I prefer to eat out, you know.” A sultry smile bluntly told her he had no need for her words to keep his imagination going. “But on this particular occasion, I set up a light meal downstairs.”
The light meal turned out to be a table full of different dishes the two of them would never manage to eat by themselves. Rose opted for a fruit plate as a starter, realizing she was far hungrier than she had initially thought. Veles slithered around the table to pour her a glass of wine, not missing the opportunity to place his hand on her shoulder as he did so. His fingertips brushed against the nape of her neck, and a fiery sensation burned through her core before he abruptly cut the connection, returning to his seat.
“Your wolf friends intend to visit the White were pack in the Czech Republic.” He took a sip of wine, the ruby red liquid moistening his lips. “It's not the worst move, but not the most fertile, either.”
As much as she wanted to lash out at him for not offering even the least bit of guidance if the pack was losing time by taking the wrong steps, he–in a way–was offering guidance. To her.
“Whatever you think you know about these past events is only the beginning, wolfie.” The playful tone in his voice suddenly disappeared, replaced by something far more sober. “The dead speak to me. I have never, in the eternity of my reign, come across as many confused souls as I have encountered lately. It has happened before; rare cases of utter violence have been known to leave souls without any knowledge of their past existence within the plane of the living. But never so many in such a short period of time.”
“You think those are all victims of the same killer?”
“I don't think. I know.” The arrogance was justified; Veles did have absolute knowledge when it came to the underworld.
“Is that why you're offering your assistance?” She had to ask, finally seeing a serious motive behind his actions.
“I don't like change.” He shrugged. “Besides,” he said, his voice suddenly coated with a rich layer of seductiveness, “it seemed indecent not to make your acquaintance. I have, after all, tasted all great warrior women of your lineage.”
“That's...disturbing.” The words escaped Rose in a flat tone, luring a grin out of the immortal who hadn't taken his eyes off her from the moment they stepped into the dining hall. “And I highly doubt this would pass as proper dinner conversation.”
His grin spread even farther, pronouncing his sharp cheekbones. Rose could have sworn she saw a hint of fang in that painfully perfect line of white teeth but made sure not to give herself away. A god with fangs wasn't something anybody had mentioned at any point in history. If her eyesight wasn't playing tricks on her, the only wise choice was to remain oblivious to the delicately, yet lethally sharpened tips of his canines.
“If you think that's improper…” The velvet sound of his words made Rose cross her legs even tighter. “Wait until I have you splayed against the sheets, while you never cease to curse me under the breath you'll be unable to take, as I'll run my tongue inside you, whispering ancient languages of the most exquisite torture into your folds and drinking my way through your climax...”
She clenched her thighs, feeling his dark green eyes soaking in the soft texture of her skin, his amused expression revealing just how much he reveled in her uneasiness that came from fighting the inexplicable urge to take him up on his offer.
Being a descendant of Mokoš, she had been more than well aware of his sultry reputation, but the myth was a bare shadow of the charisma Veles possessed. She now understood why so many of her ancestors had fallen for the dark-haired god; however, giving in to him would mean defeat. Unless it was on her terms.
She swallowed hard. “Before you go speaking ancient whispers into my flesh, how about you tell me more concerning the problem at hand?”
“Only if you take my throbbing problem in your hand afterward.”
He was teasing her. However, the level of seductiveness was much, much lighter, allowing Rose to relax and flash him a smile.
“Idiot.” It wasn't something she would have ever considered saying to a god, but he had driven her into a state where she didn't feel the need to follow etiquette, considered proper for a somewhat more formal situation, in this particular instance.
He seemed delighted by her response, the barely visible tips of fangs crowning his smile. “Follow me.”
She quickly grabbed another canapé and stuffed it in her mouth. Falling in step with the tall figure that she somehow couldn't keep her eyes off despite the rather disturbing knowledge of his history with the Mokoš bloodline, she wondered if he was, in fact, leading her somewhere she would have trouble keeping to her resolution of not ripping off his clothes. Her worries amplified when he led her downstairs, but dissipated the instant he opened the dungeon door.
“Wow,” she whispered in awe. “This is breathtaking.”
From what she could see, standing in the entryway, the whole dungeon level was a massive armory. She took a timid step inside, ogling the marvelous collection of weapons, ranging from throwing knives to modern warfare machines no civilian would ever have access to–however, she needn’t be reminded that Veles was, in fact, no civilian.
The god brushed against her, his hand outlining the fine muscles of her shoulders, traveling upward over the tendons on her neck to tenderly cup her jawline. “Had enough foreplay?”
She allowed herself to lean into his palm, indulging in the small caress of his ageless skin against hers.
“Nope.” She smiled. “Show me more.”
Veles raised an eyebrow, but surprisingly silenced the response that was written so clearly on his captivating features. Instead, he motioned her to follow him, showing her around the sturdy display cases and mounted weapons' lock
ers. She tried to take everything in, which proved to be an impossible mission; the underground room was too vast, too well stocked to register even half of his treasured belongings in such a short time.
“Pick what you need.”
“What?” Each of the weapons in the room was worth more than her apartment along with her possessions.
“I don't know much about the events to come”—a flash of annoyance crossed his face, the lack of knowledge clearly something he wasn't used to—“but I do know you'll need to be well prepared for whatever it is that you will face. So, weapons. Take your time.”
He leaned against the cellar wall, observing her like a predator while she explored the room, picking out mostly knives, since they were fairly easy to handle, even with her claws fully extended. In the end, she opted for a semi-automatic Walter as well as a small assortment of throwing knives and daggers, the ones with minimal decorations on their hilts, since her heart cringed at the thought of ruining the gemstone-enhanced blades by covering them in enemy blood, even if their balance was almost too perfect for words.
The daggers in her hands were plain but well-made, and she knew they wouldn't let her down. She preferred fighting in close quarters and could handle blades of that sort with lethal efficiency. Pleased with her choices, she crossed the room back to Veles, who remained leaning against the wall in a leisurely, yet fascinatingly inviting pose.
“I like your taste in blades.” He gave a carnal smile that almost made her weak in her knees. “Come with me.”
He led her to a secluded part of the dungeon where a numerous collection of holsters and sheaths hung on the wall. Carefully, he chose several from the leather part of the displayed items, turning each around in his hands to examine it with immaculate precision. Rose silently observed the intent expression of his face, his features seductively pronounced as he devoted himself to the task.