by Nyna Queen
Already here Alex could feel the beat of a bass vibrating through the ground, like the thumping of a wild, ecstatic heart.
Darken was walking so close to her that she sensed the heat of his body emanating from him in tense waves, and she had to curb the urge to lean toward him, her own body desperate for some kind of familiarity in the pharynx of uncertainty they had entered.
It was stupid, perhaps, to feel comforted by the presence of a forfeit, but then, when you walked into the lion’s den it was nice to know you had a panther as backup, just in case. Not that she really expected the Duke to pick a fight with her. Still …
“Valentine—he’s a character of his own kind,” she said quietly as they made their way down and down, “and he can be quite … difficult. Just let me do the talking. I know how to handle him.” Or so I hope.
“As the lady pleases.” Darken indicated a mocking bow.
Alex rolled her eyes at the dripping irony and didn’t reply.
The bump of techno-beats swelled with every step they took, resonating in Alex’s bones. Another staff member waited for them at the end of the tunnel, in front of a heavy black curtain.
“You the ones here for the Duke?” Even here he had to almost shout to be heard above the noise coming from inside the club.
She nodded shortly.
“Follow me, then.”
An escort. Why, Valentine, how charming. She really must have pissed him off last time.
The guy pulled the curtain aside and they stepped into another world: a massive underground dome stretched in front of them, opening like a natural cave in the base of a mountain. A deafening sound reverberated from the stone walls, shaking the ground to their feet and battering Alex’s eardrums.
They were on top of a metal gallery with stairs on both sides, overlooking an ocean of jerking, twitching bodies as hundreds of people rubbed against each other to the wild electro beats, lost in ecstatic dancing.
In elevated cages girls in scanty leather outfits shook the hell out of their designer-fabricated bodies, spreading their musk all over the place and setting the males in the club on fire.
Erratic laser beams flashed through the smoke-filled crater, turning the whole thing into a seething volcano close to eruption.
If they ever threw a party in hell, this was what it must look like.
The moment the curtain opened, hot, humid air enveloped Alex. It wrapped around her like a cape knitted from sweat and lust and desire, sewn together by ecstasy, gluing her sensitive tactual hairs together and forming a sticky film on her skin. It was so pregnant with hormones, she could taste them on her tongue: sex and aggression mixing into an intoxicating cocktail that sent the spider into a wild, inebriated rush.
Alex took a step forward and swayed, overwhelmed by the sensation overload. She grabbed the railing for support, fingers digging into the metal like the shaper inside her dug her claws into the bottom of her skin.
Her teeth pushed forward, pricking her human gums in response to her tension.
Too loud. Too hot. Too many people. TOO MUCH!
Alex held onto the railing, feeling like she was drowning in a crazy sea of noise underneath a flashing thunderstorm sky rippled through by lighting.
A blinding laser beam cut through the curling smoke inches from her face, having the spider inside her jump up like a frightened cat. In the brief flash of light, she got a glimpse of Darken’s face beside her. It was completely flat, devoid of any kind of emotion, but if the glowing embers in the bottom of his eyes were any indication, he was fighting hard to keep his magic under control.
Their escort gave them a lopsided smirk, saying without words “yeah, I know that reaction” and beckoned them along the metal gallery and down a flight of stairs into the underground arena.
“Stay close!” Alex shouted at Max and Josy over the racket, but she could have saved her breath; both kids showed absolutely no desire whatsoever to stray. In fact, Josy looked like she was about to crack open from the sheer indecency of the place. It was a hundred-thousand-dollar worth of gaze. And she hadn’t even seen the worst of it yet.
At the bottom of the cave the air was so thick with sweat and smoke and alcohol fumes it seemed almost impossible to breathe without getting pissed like a rat. Staff in black catsuits slunk through the rambunctious crowd with practiced grace, carrying trays with rows and rows of fluorescent shots.
Those were the kind of nice little drinks that let you forget that you were just a simple family-man-slash-bank-accountant and made you think you could fly; in the morning you’d wake with a broken wrist and a hangover for three, your bank account wiped clean and your neighbor’s cat skinned in your living room beside half-empty glasses full of dried blood; but during the night you sure felt like the king. Scene-people called them “late-regretters,” and with good reason.
They wound their way along the outer side of the dance floor, inadvertently brushing and bumping against people. The heated touch of sweat-slicked skin, the scents of lust and sin curling around her limbs, it all scratched at Alex’s soul and every step was an effort for her to stay inside her human skin.
Light beams flickered through the black-light suffused darkness, cutting the reality into fragmented shards of movements and turning faces into grotesque, horrific grimaces born from an insane artist’s crude fantasy. In the dizzying whirl of light and dark Alex caught flashes of patterned skin, of fangs and claws. And eyes: red and yellow and bright green. Black. Slitted. Solid. Shifty.
Shapers, everywhere! Wherever she looked, true eyes glowed back at her, reflecting the lights like scattered coins under an artificial moon. Hell was giving a party and the demons were all in attendance.
It was rare to see so many shapers in one place and the sheer mass of loaded predators set her hackles on edge.
It was an outspoken secret that the Duke’s club tolerated shaper kind, so this was where Gomorrha’s shaper community gathered. The Morpheus was one of the few places where they could walk in their true skin and wouldn’t be shunned for it—good luck to those who wanted to try.
The city of vices was like a haven for the cursed and doomed and here a shapers’ abilities guaranteed a rich variety of job offers, none of which were on the legal side of the spectrum. Hadn’t she made exactly that experience a couple of years ago?
But when you made a pact with the devil it was hard to escape his grip again. That, too, she had experienced.
Somewhere out of sight, a gurgling scream rocked the crowd. Alex raised her head, her sensory threads snapping up around her like an army of invisible snakes, shivering, probing, preparing for an attack.
People inched out of the way, as two bodies rolled past in fight, animal sounds issuing from their throats. She tasted the currents. Two lusty male snakes in a battle for dominance. Chance was, only one would make it out here alive. She made a face and took a small step aside. They vanished behind a wall of raving feet.
Alex felt Josy tremble beside her, her fear like a magnet for all the accrued shaper aggression around them. The beady, tawny eyes of a male scorpion glowed nearby and fixed on the girl, staring at her as if she would make a delicious feast. A dark brown stinger rose above his left shoulder.
Alex pulled the girl toward her, shielding her slim body with her own, and flashed her own true eyes at him, both claim and warning. Mine!
When the scorpion didn’t move, she bared her spider fangs in a direct challenge and snarled. Back off, asshole. Or I’ll make you!
The scorpion hissed, the mad, high, stridulating sound of a pissed-off cicada, half defiance, half defeat and retreated into the crowd.
Alex kept her true eyes in place, just so nobody would get any ideas.
Josy was shaking so hard, Alex was afraid it would knock her off her feet. She increased the grip on the girl’s shoulder.
“Don’t worry,” she murmured into Josy’s ear, “I won’t let them hurt you. Just stay close to me and you’ll be fine.”
To her surprise,
Josy relaxed a little and even drew a bit closer to her instead of shying away from her touch. Suppose the known predator right here is better than the unknown out there.
Somehow, they made it to the other end of the cave without any major escalation, despite the fact that Darken was oozing enough testosterone that several shaper males turned their heads, flashing annoyed teeth. But except for a couple of derisive glances and swaggering snarls, they had the sense to let them pass unharmed.
When they finally reached the back of the dome, Alex’s skin was about to split, and she was so jumpy, one more touch was likely to drive her up the walls. The iron leash she’d held on her true skin had mentally rubbed her hands raw and all she wanted was to find a quiet dark spot where she could curl up for a while and nurse her battered core.
The escort held in front of a padded door. “Wait here,” he yelled and vanished through the opening slit.
Darken leaned toward her, his hair brushing her cheek as he bent close enough to be heard above the racket inside the club. The touch involuntarily sent a shiver down her limbs.
“He seems to be a very busy man, your Duke.”
Alex waved her hand in a dismissive gesture. “Oh, he’s just trying to piss me off.” And it was working soooo well, too.
At the edge of the dance floor two human girls in sorry excuses of skirts that would have made Darcy blush scarlet, had set their sights on Darken and were putting on an aggressive attempt to catch his attention. Alex rolled her eyes with disgust as they rubbed against each other like two horny cats, making pouty expressions with their mouths they no doubt thought were irresistibly sexy but really just made them look like two hare-brained ducks.
She slanted a glance at Darken. He stood utterly still and watched them getting the show on for him with a slight smile. It was hard to tell amidst the thick tangle of emotions and sexual lust around them, but somehow it struck her less like the enjoying kind and more like the if-this-goes-on-much-longer-I’m-gonna-come-over-and-break-your-slutty-little-necks kind of smile.
Not that it made a difference to her. He could dally with any slut he wanted. Hell, he could have it off with every single female in this entire cave for all she cared. Just right now wasn’t the moment to get distracted.
Realizing they had been noticed, the front girl leaned forward and ran the tip of her tongue along her upper lip.
Alex bit back a snarl. Ugh, come on! Buy yourself some sense of shame—and something to cover your butts while you’re already at it!
She contemplated going over and sucker punching some dignity into those chirpy sluts, when the door opened, and the escort stuck his head out. “The Duke is ready to receive you now.”
Oh, was he? Well, weren’t they honored?
She’d have a word with him about making her wait. He should know better than to test her patience like that.
VALENTINE Mercurio aka the Duke of Gomorrha lounged at the end of a huge room, complete with plush couches around ocean glass tables and groups of people in heavy evening attire, drinking chilled champagne and spiced wine from crystal goblets.
He sprawled in a massive, throne-like chair, holding a black cane with a silver snake head handle with emerald eyes like a scepter. A little king waiting on his little empire.
Expensive pinstriped suit, oiled hair, polished designer shoes. Valentine was a man of refined tastes and extravagant fables—and he didn’t spare any expenses.
Two scantily dressed girls knelt at his feet looking up at him with simple-minded adoration.
When Alex and her entourage entered, the Duke shooed them away with an idle flick of his fingers. They pattered from the room, wiggling their bony little asses and giggling like the idiots they were. Alex had the distinct feeling that he’d deliberately waited until she’d seen them. The question was, what did he think that would accomplish? Probably just trying to upset her. Well, if so, he wouldn’t have to put in prime efforts.
“Ah, Sasha.” The Duke rose from his chair and opened his arms wide, a sleek smile on his face. “Sasha, Sasha, Sasha, what an unexpected pleasure. It’s been quite a while.”
Not long enough for my taste.
“Finally getting bored of being a good spider, eh?”
An edge entered his smirk, but Alex refused to rise to the bait.
“And such interesting company you keep, nowadays.”
His eyes flickered over the kids, clearly dismissing them as irrelevant, but lingered on Darken, a little too long. A little too … curious.
Alex felt him stiffen beside her, hands curling at his sides until she thought she heard his bones grind against each other. Valentine’s gaze snagged on the gloves and his eyebrows rose slightly. Those gloves conveyed their own message and he would likely draw the correct conclusions. He was slime-dripping arrogant. He wasn’t stupid.
Darken returned his gaze calmly, not even making an effort to keep the deadly chill out of his eyes.
Just great!
“My company is none of your business,” Alex said, stepping forward before this could ripen into a male pissing contest. “We’re here to do some business.”
The Duke leaned forward, eyes glinting with taunting amusement. “Ahhh, I love it when you say these words. You always make them sound so … naughty.” He purred and made a clawing movement with his left hand that had several rings flashing in the light of the countless chandeliers.
Alex rolled her eyes. She had almost forgotten how hard it was to tolerate his company for more than thirty seconds.
“Any chance we could speak somewhere a little more private?” She indicated the people basking in his petty glow on the couches around them, at least half of which were straining to catch their words while pretending to be indulging in wine and conversation.
“But of course.” With a flourish of his stick, the Duke pointed to a small door to his left.
As they trailed after him, Darken leaned toward her. “Why is he calling you Sasha?”
Alex shrugged. “It’s a short-form of Alexis. I don’t know. He’s always done that.” Fit right in with his eccentrics, she supposed.
They followed him into what appeared to be some kind of study, all elaborate redwood furnishings polished to a shine and topped off with a giant fireplace of red-veined black marble. Oh yeah, no expenses spared.
One of the bodyguards made an attempt to enter after them, but she noted the Duke making a tiny movement with his hand. Alex suppressed a smile. Trying to act brave, Valentine?
Her senses told her that the guard took up position right beside the door and she smirked. Not too brave then.
As soon as the door had closed, Valentine became all businesslike, turning from party-pimp into tradesman in five seconds flat. He settled behind his large desk, hung his cane on a hook at his chair and watched her over his folded hands.
“Now. What can I possibly do for you, Ms. Jones?” His lips curled into a sneer. “Or shall I say, Harper, since we’re among friends?”
Fishing for information on her relationship with the others? Well, she wasn’t gonna volunteer any. Alex slipped into the only other chair, feeling Darken hovering behind her like her own kind of menacing bodyguard. She took a deep breath. There really was no time for being sleek about this.
“We need a portal.”
The Duke’s eyebrows crept up in barely disguised surprise that was quickly superseded by calculation. His eyes roamed over the others again, more thoughtful now. Alex held her breath. She was pretty sure he only cared for what happened inside the walls of his little kingdom, but if he recognized the kids …
Something sly entered his eyes. If opportunity had a smell, his nose would have twitched.
Linking his fingers together he leaned back in his chair. “Do I understand correctly, that you want said portal right now?”
Releasing her breath, Alex nodded curtly, knowing where this was leading. And not liking the direction, either. Not liking it at all.
“And I assume you don’t want it to go
to any of the official portal grounds.”
Why, you’re such a fox, Valentine.
“You assumed right.” As if she would go to him if it was otherwise.
He whistled softly, tapping the desk with his fingertips. “Not a small thing you’re asking. Something like this is gonna cost you. How do you intend to pay for such a favor?” His eyes grazed the shabby backpack in her lap. “I don’t suppose you have a stack of cash in there.”
Alex made a sharp movement with her hand. “Cut the shit! You know exactly that I don’t possess the kind of money—”
“If this is just a question of money,” Darken interrupted stiffly, his voice laced with the warmth of an ice cube, “we can provide you with all the funds you want. Just give me a pen so I can write you the check.”
He eyed the Duke with sovereign contempt.
Alex bit her teeth together, furious. Hadn’t she told him to keep his mouth shut? That she would handle this?
“Ah.” The Duke raised a finger with a mild smile, but a dangerous glitter filled his eyes. “Promises, promises.” He gently weighed his head. “I shall tell you what the problem with promises is: they are more slippery than a whore’s crotch. And they tend to be forgotten just as quickly as the pleasure it provided. Such a fleeting passion. A word. A whiff. And the next time you pay a courtesy visit she is already spreading her legs for another man.” He made wide eyes at them. “So how would I know if such a promise will be kept. It’s a harsh world out there …”
Darken’s face chilled a little more, no doubt indignant that someone would dare to doubt his trueborn word of honor. At least he didn’t cause a scene.
“No,” the Duke shook his head, still smiling. “I’m afraid, I don’t work on credit.” His smile turned feral enough to make a shaper proud. “Cash is king!
“Of course”—he turned to Alex with a sly smirk—“you could always work your debt off to me.”
She snorted. “And hop around in one of those flimsy leather thongs? I don’t think so.”
“Oh, Sasha, Sasha,” Valentine drawled her name as if it was an exquisite praline whose taste he wanted to savor to the very last, “you know that I value your … other qualities just as much as those delicious legs of yours.”