Aella marched across the room leaving me to clutch myself all the tighter and crane my neck to see who the fuck else was lingering out there. Without warning, she picked up the cotton under garment and flung it toward me. I caught it without hesitation and wiggled into it.
Once I resigned myself to scrubbing my arms with my hands, Messiah reached around my arm and passed the corset.
“I hear they’re a bit tricky to put on,” he explained. “If you allow…”
I begrudgingly ripped it from his hands, only to require his help moments later. My shoulders caved beneath the weight of my indignation. Isabella remained where she was, rubbing her throat and cautiously observing us.
Messiah and Aella worked methodically, tying laces and tugging hems until I was once again a Krypt masterpiece.
“Ah…” Isabella sighed clasping her palms together before herself. “You are a rare flower, Chalice… a rare flower indeed.” She smiled, gave a nod, and started for the door. “See that her hair, make-up, and jewels are in order,” she called over her shoulder on the way out.
“Which vase do you think she will put me in tonight?” I hissed over my shoulder.
In the mirror, Messiah’s eyes met mine and the corner of his mouth tipped up. He took his time lifting sections of my hair and testing the weight and natural lay of it.
“What makes you so sure you’re worth plucking?” Aella snipped before rudely grasping my chin and directing me toward her. A wide, round brush chased powder about my face until I could taste chalkiness of it. I swatted at her dusting hand and smacked the wrist that held my chin captive.
She stepped back, tucked her chin and looked up from beneath her many tiny twists and braids. The glare she placed on me was nothing short of murderous. My fingers balled into fists again. I could feel the thick negative energy rolling off her, but I didn’t want to fight her. I didn’t want to hurt her. I just wanted to be left alone. The flooding of my room had drained me.
“Enough,” Messiah insisted, stepping around and between us. His voice was next to a whisper, but his tone was firm and expectant. A throaty sound of disgust erupted on the other side of him, and Aella stormed from the room.
I stared after her, suddenly flooded with tears of rage. In that moment, I cursed my inaction. The possibility that he might now believe me weak enraged me to the point my cheeks flushed.
“Alright. Enough fuckery. Let’s set to doing the impossible,” he playfully drawled. He reached with the brush and I ducked my head back, glaring at him.
“Impossible? I’m impossible?” Why did I give a fuck what he thought I was? Fuck. Just shut up, Chalice.
“No,” he replied in that smooth unshakeable tone of his, “the order to enhance your beauty is impossible, my little dark jewel.” The make-up brush fluttered down the length of my nose only to pause like a kiss atop my lips. “Your eyes are unrivaled, Chalice, like the sacred crystals of the peninsula. Only I’ve never seen crystals that change like your dark jewels.”
He pursed his lips and used the brush to encourage my chin up. When my eyes met his, I was stuck, unable to look away. It was mere eye contact, but I felt like he was exploring something in me that even I hadn’t broken the surface of.
“Sometimes they are a deep amber, others almost like the night’s sky. And then… there are times like now, when they melt to honey, and I can see…” His voice trailed off, pulling me along with it.
“What do you see?” I whispered, only to realize I was leaning toward him. His eyes ripped from mine, and he danced back around me.
“I see a young lady who is late and still needs her hair set.”
His words snapped me from whatever that was.
Something electric slid up my spine, causing my right shoulder to jump. His large, wide hand fell atop it almost immediately, spreading its warmth and offering his strength.
“You will do well tonight. I assure you, even Isabella will be jealous.” His last few words were said around a mouthful of pins. One by one, they were used to fasten my hair to his whim.
“Is that what’s wrong with Aella?” I asked, not really understanding what he meant. What was it I had to do? I couldn’t bring myself to ask. I didn’t want to appear ignorant in front of him. I had been bared in enough ways; my lack of education needn’t be added to the fire.
“Aella… yes, actually. She is upset that Reverie was unioned before her. She has done much for the family and wishes her own household.”
“So, why doesn’t she keep an eye out for someone to court? I never see her out, really. She can’t very well find someone in here.”
He was smiling and staring at me in a way that left me feeling foolish. He patiently licked his lips and studied the floor while nodding. It made his long-twisted locks skim about the laces of his deep V-cut tunic. His dark chest peeked out and muscles were promised before the ties concealed the lower half of his abdomen. I had heard tales that Spice Landers didn’t grow chest hair, so I found myself eyeing the mirror and squinting to discern.
“Something in your eye, love?” he asked while coming back around to line my eyes. My face flushed, and for the life of me I couldn’t meet his hazel eyes.
“Close them, but don’t scrunch,” he whispered.
I sat still as a statue, unbreathing as the kohl was carefully applied to both my top and bottom eyelids. I’d never wore more than a homemade lip stain, and here was a man—a man—applying my makeup.
“Fucking exquisite,” he leaned in and whispered near my ear.
My eyes snapped open, but not before my senses had drank in the scent of him. It reminded me of the sweet smooth liquor I had sampled with Reverie. A dash of something fresh, like the salt tainted coastal breeze. When Messiah invaded a space, he made it his, stamping the air with the essence of something calculated and capable.
A door slammed down the hall with such ferocity that it shook mine. Loud, hysterical sobbing echoed through the Villa. I startled and collided with him roughly when impulse bid me to react. I gasped, turned, and was prepared to start for the door, but his hand gently caught my wrist.
“You needn’t concern yourself with that mess,” he said, as if it were the screaming of a tea kettle.
“Wha… what kind of mess?” Before he could answer me, the door burst open. Reverie flew toward us, and with both arms out, threw herself to our mercy “Wha… Reverie…”
Her fingers wound in the sleeve of my dress, bunching and twisting the fabric beneath her grasp. The other made similar work of Messiah’s sleeve, leaving his chest half bared and her weight straining between us.
Her desperate cries transitioned without warning into an ugly bout of hyperventilation.
“Wha…” I looked wide eyed to Messiah and used the heel of my hand to thump him in the arm. “What the fuck?”
“Enough,” he clipped, breaking that cool demeanor of his.
“Messiah!” I exclaimed, horrified by his callousness.
“Enough, Reverie. She’s family now.”
My attention volleyed between them so fast I started feeling woozy. Reverie hung her head, but the gasping and quiet crying continued.
“Messiah…” I repeated.
“It’s just… I was so close to having to…” she sloppily managed, “…what if it hadn’t worked in…”
It was as far as she got. Messiah’s hand fell across her mouth, and he used his body to drive her like a bull from the room. Her muffled screams sent me subconsciously backing toward the corner. My heart began to race. What the fuck was going on?
The door slammed shut, and Messiah was walking back toward me with considerable speed.
“No! I didn’t…” I screeched curling my side into a guarded position. I stood flinching for several moments before I worked up enough courage to peek across at him. His shoulders were slumped, and he shook his head before he offered his arm.
“Never fear me, Chalice. I will kill for you someday,” he said, about the time that my fingers brushed his wrinkle
d sleeve. I jerked my hand back like I had stuck it to an iron.
“What does that mean?” I asked in the meekest voice I had probably ever found.
“It means you are a Krypt… just like Reverie.”
“You killed her husband?” I whispered, almost inaudibly.
Silence and a pointed, yet vacant stare, was all Messiah offered.
Chapter Ten
Coveted and Plucked
Ender
Isabella banged on the door, rattling the ancient hinges and echoing her arrival throughout the Villa. I closed my eyes and sucked on the tightly rolled Nirvana Root. Its distinct pungent smell billowed about the place with each massive cloud I exhaled.
The door jarred again, and something rocked it a bit lower.
Laughter crawled from some place low and petty, I couldn’t prevent it. “Did you just kick my fucking door?” I asked without moving. I wasn’t sure I could. The Root had a hold like no other when it first set in.
“I’m going to kick more than that, if you don’t let me in!” she promised from the other side.
I snorted and tipped my head back. If I closed my eyes, I could float right along with the clouds. A weightless, worriless state of existence that made the most excruciating of circumstances immensely pleasurable.
“You ever been to the Kingdom Isles? Them little tarts there carry around hounds small enough to fit in their purses. No bigger than a damn flea and make more noise than a kennel full of coon dogs. Thought I left all that behind me but… here we are,” I sang while I lazily stretched across the sofa and tried to reach the lock. It probably wasn’t the smartest thing to do after comparing her to an ankle biter, but I was so high I’d already forgotten I’d said it.
Each time I found the edge, my fingers slid off before I could turn the wooden knob. My curses slurred as I strained and shoved the damn thing down. Before I could open the door, Isabella thundered against it, putting her weight behind the effort. The door gave, and she nearly went with it. Dark daggers slashed through me and a finger sliced the air in warning.
“I don’t know what the meaning of this is, but you are expected, and you will deliver!” She violently waved her hand, trying to chase the smoke from the room.
“Ten minutes,” I murmured, laying my head back again. Her fingers spanned my throat and her weight flew to my lap.
“You have two… to get your shit together, wash your face, and escort me to the Ball.” The hand that wasn’t on my throat crisply swatted my cheek. It didn’t hurt, but even in my carefree state, it bristled my pride.
I said nothing but stalked her with my eyes until she shut the door behind her. I palmed my face and scratched the stubble on my throat.
“Fuck,” I whispered on a sigh. My legs wobbled as I hefted my weight from the sofa and stretched toward the ceiling. A yawn came as if it were plucked and made my eyes glisten. “Fuck her and fuck a Ball.” I took another puff of the root.
Two minutes later, I stood at the bottom of the steps, glaring at her. She sniffed and looked expectantly toward my elbow. I hated when things were prickly. I didn’t suffer drama well, especially not other people’s drama.
As with all things in my life, Karma raised her proverbial middle finger and sent Reverie running through the house like a mad woman.
“What the fuck is she doing?” I asked, squinting after her in disbelief.
A purr-like laugh came from beside me, and Isabella patted my arm patiently. “Leave her to her audience. I’m sure Messiah will see that it is short lived.”
“I’ll see to her when he tires of the antics,” Aella quipped from near the liquor cabinet.
“See that you do, before someone has to carry you to bed as well, hmm?” Isabella cooed, glancing knowingly toward the array of bottles.
We were two steps from the door when the sobbing stopped. Something thundered across the floor atop us, and a thump spoke of something connecting with a wall.
“That’s you,” I mouthed, casting an antagonistic smile toward Aella.
I could feel her glare. It carried us out into the frigid outdoors.
“This… why are we going to dally around in a circle when it’s colder than the Iron Inlet? These people pride themselves on being the most cultured and advanced people on the map… and no one has proposed the novel ideal that perhaps, just perhaps, it might actually be enjoyable if we gathered somewhere that at least had walls?” I quietly ranted. “I mean, fuck… at least the Inlet Heathens take the measure to find a barn…”
The back of Isabella’s hand splatted across my chest. It was an abrupt move that she neither paused nor looked back from. “Stop dallying and grunting. You sound like a damn peasant and look twice as sullen.”
I slowed my pace, letting her prance ahead in that way that only Isabella Krypt could. When she entered a place, people took notice. Crowds parted, and even the most sated of men stared. Only tonight Isabella never made it inside. Uncle Icarus emerged from the shadows before we could breech the wall of shrubbery.
“Icky!” Isabella exclaimed, before air-kissing either side of his face. Her hands grasped either of his arms and she crushed her chest against him while they exchanged formalities.
She chatted the man so long, I was forced to rock a bit to keep the chill from nipping at my bones. I wasn’t the mountain of muscle that Messiah was, nor was I as tender-bellied as my twin. Lingering about in such elements usually caused my muscles to tense so tightly against my sides, breathing became a task.
I closed my eyes and tucked my chin to my chest. In the distance, something tall and mysterious sauntered on a man’s arm. She was distant, a mere figure in purple, and yet I knew she was worth the wait.
Ten yards later, I distinctly made out a slit that extended well up to her hip. A svelte thing with a feline’s grace and legs that were made to be wrapped around something. The closer she came, the more Uncle Icarus’ words trailed off until he, too, stared dumbfounded toward the approaching delicacy.
Another ten yards and I recognized Messiah’s easy, brilliant smile.
“Chalice…” I whispered, admiring the long strands of gold that draped from her forehead and glittered down to her cheekbones.
She was gorgeous. Almost ethereal, with the moonlight playing over her hair. It brought out a hint of deep blue in her otherwise black tresses. The chatter on the other side of the shrubs ceased when Messiah presented her. The people parted and gawked, closing in behind her to whisper fervently amongst themselves. A maddening chorus of “Krypt, but who…?” came in waves.
“Messiah,” Isabella hissed, but Messiah kept on walking. She stormed after him, leaving uncle Icarus and I to trail behind them. We passed the shrubs, but the crowd was still thick and buzzing with excitement. Despite Uncle Icarus leading the way, no one gave Isabella a second glance.
“I’ve got it. Thank you,” she snapped, grabbing Chalice by the wrist. Her eyes stressed what she didn’t allow her voice to, and Messiah released Chalice’s arm with a snort of disbelief. She huffed and patted Chalice’s hand apologetically before sashaying off with the family’s newest addition.
“Your nephews really took to her, huh?” I mused to Icarus.
He squinted at me in confusion and gave a little wave to bid me join him. We crept closer until I could see for myself that the nephews were not in his company. Much to our mutual horror, Isabella marched Chalice past the musicians and straight into the arms of Keifer Kantor.
“By the Gods,” Icarus moaned, pawing his face. When his hand slid off his chin, he locked eyes with Atticus. I hadn’t noticed him at first at the table near the musicians. He was livid, and it reflected in his rigid demeanor.
“I… uh,” I attempted.
“Yeah. Go. Go. Go,” Icarus rushed.
I didn’t need a lot of encouragement. Every one of us Krypts knew what that look meant. I fought my way through the crowd and called for a round of drinks. At the sound of my voice, Atticus turned and nodded, wagging a heavy finger at the ser
ver to assure one of those was for him.
“What the fuck was that?” I asked Atticus once the server delivered and disappeared. “Why is she trying to pair two with House Kantor?”
His attention was fixated on Chalice. Her slender arms were currently draped over Keifer’s broad shoulders. His hair had been drawn up and fastened so that it draped down his back, exposing the shaved sides. She looked like the highest of noble women. A glow painted her cheeks, and Keifer, being of House Kantor, carried the physique of his Iron Inlet ancestors. He was tall and stocky, the type of man who required no weapon to inspire caution.
He was everything that Atticus and House Krypt weren’t.
“Don’t be fucking simple, Ender. That’s Klarissa Kantor’s only heir now.”
I squinted at him like he was speaking in one of the tongues from the Spicelands, my belly soured long before the awareness of what his words meant wiped every expression from my face.
Reverie was a widow. Her dramatic entrance suddenly made sense. Guilt weighed over me while Atticus paced beside me.
He killed his wine in one swig and stared at his wife over the brim of his finely cut goblet like he might choke the life from her if she drew close enough.
“She’s going to cheapen her,” he seethed. “That’s all I need, two fucking Reveries.”
His jaw tensed until I could’ve sworn that I heard his teeth grating, and I quickly snapped my finger for refills. While the servant went to fetch it, I studied him. Not just the burst of anger that we were all accustomed to, but the something else that was rippling beneath the surface.
The wind instruments chased the drum into a tempo that straddled decency. Atticus gasped, and his hand snapped into a fist. I reached out and supportively grasped his shoulder.
Chalice, who had been smiling and laughing on Atticus’ last nerve, was now stooped and bent with Kantor’s hand supporting the small of her back. The high fashion corset had already dramatized her otherwise modest chest into a mouthwatering masterpiece, but the vision of them globes threatening to spill with her every breath when he bent her was the final straw.
Chasing the Night (The Krypt Series Book 1) Page 7