by Nyna Queen
His eyes wandered over her body in an explicit lustful manner. Any other guy would have gotten a good taste of her claws or at least a kick in the balls for that, but since she still needed something from him, she settled for a predatory smile.
She felt Darken’s eyes burn into her from behind and hoped he would hold his tongue. He’d done enough damage already.
“You know I don’t do that kind of work anymore,” she said softly.
The Duke clicked his tongue, regretfully. “Still trying to be a good spider, then?” He shook his head. “A shame, really. And that with your talents. I could put you to good use.” He spread his arms, encompassing his little big world. “There is so much I could offer you if you so choose.”
Yes, but nothing of what I really want from life.
Valentine raised an eyebrow. “Is it really that much more worthwhile to scrub dirty tables in a slum joint and get paid badly for overworking?”
Alex froze, shock slabbed on her face. “How—?”
“Oh, please, Sasha, don’t act so naive. I keep track of all of my investments.”
Cold slithered down her back. And she’d thought herself paranoid for watching her back all the time. To think that she had put so much effort into hiding and yet Valentine had kept tabs on her all this time … Just the idea made her sick.
There was a brief moment of silence, in which the Duke watched her intently, maybe waiting for some kind of reaction. When none came, he folded his hands on the table and leaned back again. “Just remember there is always a place for you here, if you change your mind. Anyway, no pay, no deal. Unless … well, you know what I would always accept as payment.”
Yes, she knew. And somehow, she had hoped to avoid it. Only she didn’t really see a way around it now. Part of her had hoped to be able to guilt trip him into making a concession—after all, he did owe her for a thing or two—but now that Darken had made this into a who-got-the-bigger-pair show, she doubted he would go for it.
Ah, to hell with it!
“Alright. Fine!” Clenching her teeth, she stretched out her hand over the desk. “Then let us get this over with immediately.”
The spider inside her whimpered, but she ignored it.
Valentine’s face took on an expression of pretended indignation.
“Ah-ah-ah, Sasha,” he wiggled his index finger at her. “Fair is fair. You’re asking for a big favor, so I get to get the big portion as well.”
Alex stared at him. That’s what she’d feared. Was this punishment for Darken’s impudence or did he just take advantage of the situation? After all, Valentine was never one to content himself with a finger if he could get the entire hand. Didn’t matter—his eyes told her he wouldn’t budge. And the clock was ticking.
“Fair is fair,” Valentine crooned again, watching her with his sleepy gaze, waiting. Alex hesitated, every part of her screaming in revulsion.
“Do we have a deal?”
Everything comes with a price. She closed her eyes.
“It’s a deal,” she whispered.
CHAPTER TWENTY
“ALWAYS such a pleasure doing business with you.” The Duke of Gomorrha smiled that wide, oily smile and Darken felt the prominent desire to punch him in the teeth.
The moment they had set eyes on each other, he’d taken an instant, deep dislike to the man, and he could tell the Duke returned the favor just as passionately.
The man reminded him of a weasel: sly, mean, and vicious. The whole shine and sparkle, the rings, the cane, even the polished words, all props in a bigger play. All that affected behavior hid a dangerous opponent, who wasn’t tempered by the written and unwritten boundaries of law or honor, and who saw himself entitled to the things he managed to acquire—by whatever means it took him to do so.
Snatching up his snake-cane, the Duke rose to his feet, hinting a mocking bow, all the deceptive attendant to his clients. “As I take it you are in a hurry, so we shall not waste any time, I should think. If you had the grace to follow me …”
Alex didn’t say anything as she rose, but she looked tight, her lips pressed into a straight, hard line.
Darken restrained himself until they were back in the “throne room” and the Duke had pulled out a small silver mobile and started bellowing orders into the speaker. Keeping an eye on Maxwell and Josepha, he stepped over to Alex, close enough that his chest brushed her back—too close perhaps to be still considered appropriate, but he wanted to make sure that nobody could overhear what was said.
“What was all that about?” he asked in a hushed whisper. “What is this payment you’ve been talking about? And what, pray tell, did he mean by ‘big portion?’”
“He wants my venom,” Alex replied just as softly, her voice sounding strained and tired. “But not only a single dose from my teeth. He wants the full dose … from the gland.” She shuddered visibly at the thought.
Not quite sure about this differentiation, Darken raised a questioning eyebrow.
A bitter smile stretched Alex’s lips. “Shaper venom is very valuable and sought after in the black markets. It is extremely potent, so it usually only takes a little to get the job done, if you get my drift. And if handled correctly it’s almost impossible to detect. That makes it very popular in certain circles.”
Oh, he thought he understood quite well.
The Duke yelled something into his phone and Alex eyed his back with outspoken disgust.
“He wouldn't be able to do too much damage with a single dose, but with a whole shot from the gland …” Alex hugged herself, looking sick. Her skin had turned so pale it seemed almost gray.
Darken contemplated her words. Considering this place and taking into account what Alex had told them about the man, it wasn't hard to imagine what a crime lord of the Duke’s caliber would do with a portion of a hardly verifiable lethal venom. He’d either use it himself or sell it to the highest bidder—and people would die because of it either way. It hardly surprised Darken that a lowlife like the Duke wouldn’t shrink from murder to keep his “business” running in the city’s underworld, what did astonish him though—
“It really bothers you, doesn’t it?” He pondered her with his head cocked to the side. “That people might die as a result of your … donation.”
The look he received was bone-chilling. “Wouldn’t it bother you?”
And here was the pot calling the kettle black. Ah, assumptions were such a double-edged blade. He had to admit, he’d felt quite put out when she so easily assumed that he, as a forfeit, wouldn’t mind an innocent man’s death when that assumption undeniably held true for the greater part of his caste.
Perhaps, in reverse, it wasn’t fair to measure her by the standards society put on her kind, either. She was a shaper, yes, but so far, she had hardly lived up to any of the stereotypes that were so commonly spread among the folk that it was hard to tell where the seed of truth had been planted into the ground of nightmares and grown into a creature of its own.
Still talking into his phone, the Duke pivoted and motioned them toward a huge, gold-ornamented, double-winged door.
“I apologize.” Darken inclined his head at Alex, while they made their way over to the door together, skirting around groups of whispering men and women, who were as polished on the outside as they were likely rotten on the inside. “It wasn’t my place to question your motives.”
The look she gave him was as wary as that of an animal sensing a trap.
Who lied to you? he wondered, as she searched his face and bit her lip. He was almost certain that someone must have lied to her in the past, and that it had left a mark. It was visible in moments like this, like a brittle sheen of glass coating her skin. And if he probed any further, she’d either snap or run like a deer.
Just what could have happened to her, that while she didn’t flinch from a state-licensed killer, certain other things would make her so wary?
Despite her snow queen act, she wasn’t as cold and unaffected as she liked to prete
nd. She cared for things. Like she cared for a little boy and his wounded leg. Like she carried the weight of the potential deaths of a bunch of strangers on her shoulders.
Well, that weight was just as much his to bear as it was hers. It was the price for the portal that would lead his niece and nephew to safety and therefore he wouldn’t hesitate to pay it. People died for many reasons and if he had to choose between family and a group of strangers, he knew how his decision would always turn out.
So, what does that say about me? Maybe the spider had been right about him all along.
The bodyguards pushed the double-winged door open and the Duke lowered his mobile long enough to execute another flamboyant bow. “Welcome to my humble abode.”
This so-called Duke was a lot. Humble wasn’t part of it.
A long, wide hall stretched in front of them: polished gold-lined marble floors, thick lush rugs, and heavy, dark red velvet curtains draping the walls. Dimmed chandeliers rained golden diamonds from the ceiling like slowly burning clouds of fire overhead, and on the walls, red lightbulbs behind half-transparent shades of black lace emitted a soft burgundy light. In the middle, bordered by smooth, rectangular black stones, exotic plants formed an exquisite indoor garden, climbing vines and white, purple and pink flowers winding their way along erotically shaped fountains and pillars, their heavy perfumes so intense they instantly made your head swirl. Darken was willing to bet a week’s leave that there was some kind of forbidden narcotic among the pretty greenery as well.
Couches dotted the sides of the hall, spending comfort for waiting customers, while girls in silky nothings drifted around, serving wine and fruity delicacies, providing them with an appetizer while they waited for the main course. The whole place was extravagant, erotic, and explicit—and the strange mix of high-class elegance and raunchy sensuality didn’t fail to have the desired effect.
The Duke ambled along the hallway a lot slower than would have been necessary, swinging his snake-cane as they walked past closed doors with distinct black “used” signs and veiled alcoves that provided some superficial seclusion for those in such urgent need that they couldn’t even wait for a vacant room.
“Ewww!” Max stopped in front of an alcove and stared goggle-eyed into the dim nook.
Darken turned and found himself across from a couple getting right down to business on a love-seat, too focused on ridding each other of their clothes to care about paltry things like privacy.
Max wrinkled his nose. “That’s gross. What kind of dance is that?”
Beside him, Alex made a chortling sound. Josy followed her brother’s gaze and her cheeks blushed so red they matched the lamps on the walls. Her eyes flickered around, trying to find something safe to look at and, failing that, finally locked on her hands.
Darken cleared his throat and discreetly shifted his position to block the boy from view and nudged him forward. “Come on, kiddo. We don’t want to dally.”
With one hand on his shoulder, he steered his nephew past the following alcoves before he had the chance to ask any more loaded questions. One of the benefits of not having children of your own was that if they came to you with questions, too delicate for a grown man to answer, you could simply refer them back to their parents.
He would do a great deal for his bother. Explaining to his nephew the difference between dancing and dancing wasn’t part of it.
A bar made from one seamless piece of gleaming, lit onyx marked the center of the hall from where more corridors forked off like the rays of a six-pointed star. Dozens of girls occupied the bar, some with customers, some alone: from sleek and trim to ample and lush, they came in every imaginable shape and shade. A complete menu for a customer to choose his favorite dish from.
Darken’s lips curled into a silent snarl at the sight of a slim blond girl, whose sultry makeup and sexy garments couldn’t hide the child’s body underneath. Some of these girls were so young, no respectable brothel would consider displaying them.
As they passed, more than one reached out for him, brushing his cheek or chest with a kinky remark or a salacious offer. He firmly pushed their hands away, trying hard to keep his growing tension out of his fingers.
Not all customers seemed to show the same kind of restraint, though. Many of the girls bore bruises, rope burns, and other kinds of marks of a more ferocious treatment, despite the carefully applied makeup and the dimmed red lights that smoothed out those signs for the unobservant eye. Part of those marks might have been inflicted in mutual agreement, but he doubted that all of them were.
The whole place reeked of pain and despair, a heady fragrance that even the plant’s heavy perfumes weren’t able to mask. Not for someone like him, anyway. It called to him, called to his nature, stimulating the darker, fiercer parts of his being.
Oh, he had quite a good idea what kinds of appetites could be satisfied in this establishment, what kind of twisted games were played behind those closed doors. Hot anger teased the inside of his skin like silky tongues, trying to arouse something that would give nobody here any pleasure if it was set free.
Darken rubbed his gloved right hand. Prostitution as such was as old as this world and he had played the rooms too many times to be a hypocrite about it. Making a trade with a woman for something she was willing to offer was one thing. But forcing a woman … forcing a child—
“Enjoying the view?”
The Duke’s face popped up beside him. He’d apparently managed to pry himself away from his phone for a minute.
“Quite an eye candy, isn’t it?” The other man’s shrewd eyes roamed about the displayed merchandise in a dreamy fashion. “I intended to build a paradise, where every man can find what his heart—and his loins—desire. A place to release some of the steam that gets so bottled up in us in the drab monotony of day-to-day-life. And here we are.” He smirked. “I always say there is no more relieving place for a man than in the arms of a warm, willing woman—or two,” he added with a lewd wink.
“Or an unwilling?” Darken asked too softly.
“Ah.” The Duke gave him a knowing smile. “Some enjoy a gentle, laid-back ride, while others prefer a good rodeo with bridle and spurs. Who am I to judge them?” He shrugged. “I simply provide a playground for all of them.”
Oh, but of course, the Duke of Gomorrha, simply providing a humble service to the community.
Sensing Darken’s resentment, the Duke waved a ringed hand. “Right. Wrong. There are no such things. Only demand—and those who can meet it and those who can’t. But I’m sure you understand, a man of your … profession.”
He leaned toward Darken, wordlessly taunting him. “It is easy to judge our neighbors when we should rather watch the weeds growing in our own backyards. Wouldn’t you agree?”
Darken’s lips pressed together and his hands clenched into fists at his sides. The ridge between right and wrong was a narrow one when walked upon with the blessing of his caste. And every innocent who died when they obeyed an order was a slash in the armor of righteousness they wore like a bloody shield.
The Duke smiled, obviously enjoying his reaction.
“Anyway,” he said with a twirl of his stick, “don’t be shy to look. Look, look.” He indicated the girls left and right. “I’m sure even someone of your ilk can find something here to spark his loins’ fire. I’d even make you a good price, clean up included, that goes without saying. What kind of host would I be if I could not provide such a simple service for my clients? Ahh, so many ways to vanish a body. Then again”—his eyelids drooped, and he watched Darken with his sleepy gaze—“I believe you know a lot more about that than I do.”
Darken’s fingers curled so tight the seams of his gloves started to rip. He could almost feel that sleek neck breaking under his grip. If only they didn’t need him. Oh, this one he would kill gladly and without any regret.
At that moment the mobile phone vibrated, and the Duke raised a finger. “If you’ll excuse me.”
He scurried away and Darke
n released a small breath. It didn’t do much to calm the angry fire churning inside his body, yearning for a lethal outlet. He looked around for something, anything, that would divert his mind from the perversion of this place and found Alex.
She was a little in front of him, walking straight ahead, without looking left or right, her face hard and cold like ice. It obviously wasn’t her first time here. Well, the conversations with the Duke had made it pretty clear that she had worked for him at some point and—
Wait a minute! She had worked for him!
Had she—? Could she have—?
Darken felt a subtle shift in his fury, as he stared at the closed doors which suddenly held another kind of repulsive interest for him. It was hard to imagine the spider letting anybody force her to do anything she didn't want. On the other hand …
You know I don’t do that kind of work anymore. So much bitterness in those words. So much tension. Her obvious revulsion of this place, the unwillingness to talk about it, and then the constant needling of the Duke …
Darken pictured again the young blond girl at the bar, but in his mind, she turned into Alex. The air turned vicious around him. His nostrils flared.
He felt Alex’s sharp gaze on him and knew that his magic was beginning to leak out through his eyes. With some effort he forced it down, locking the floodgates on his boiling emotions. He arranged his features into that cold, slightly bored mask he wore whenever he had to deal with trueborn blood aristos. Clearing his throat, he tried to sound only mildly interested.
“What were those ‘other qualities of yours’ the Duke was referring to?” He couldn’t quite keep the soft, dangerous croon out of his voice. It was the voice he used upon his victims before sucking out their soul. His seducer voice. His killer voice. If this man had forced her to submit to any kind of treatment …
Alex made big eyes at him. “Of all the stuff we discussed, that’s what made the most lasting impression on you?”