The Monster Ball Year 2

by Heather Hildenbrand

  At his words, my interest is piqued. “If she’s the best, why wouldn’t I want a reading?”

  “I guess I imagine you would be hard to read, given your lack of morality these days.”

  He’s right. I surround myself with liars, cheaters, thieves, and murderers. The only light I carry is in the form of my fire magic. The power to burn down everything in my path.

  “My lack of morality aside, I’d like to see what my future holds.” I stand unmoving.

  “Is that so?” His tone has a slight protective challenge in it. He holds my eyes for another moment before releasing them. “Well, your reading with Katya will have to wait.”

  Tired of him standing in my way, I sigh, “And why is that?”

  “Some blonde chick with a black sunflower on her dress pushed her way in. Their exchange looked intense, so I’d wait before barging in”—he pauses—“and coming face to face with your fate.”

  I’m not sure why, but his words cause a coldness to crawl over my skin.

  My eyes slide over his shoulder to the closed cube. “Thanks for the tip.”

  With a slight dip of his chin, he makes his way back to the bar.

  Taking a seat on a couch outside the cube, I stare at it.

  Whatever is waiting for me behind that closed door has something I want.

  Time to come up with a plan and set it in motion.

  Chapter Three

  The Scent Of Darkness

  Katya

  Under my fingertips, my cards hum with nervous energy. The blonde girl seated next to me on the couch has an underlying desperation surrounding her aura. Even though my deck keeps picking up her edginess, the mask of indifference she wears gives nothing away.

  I should’ve known better than to agree to her reading, but I couldn’t help myself. Her request was too intriguing to pass up: locate a witch who has feasted on souls, hiding at the ball.

  My gaze slides over the cards she’s chosen, then toward her hands, and up her arms. I follow the decorative vines twined around her upper arms before meeting her eyes. Though she’s calm on the outside, her stare gives away her real emotions. There is no peace radiating from her. This woman, Tansy, has faced death and lost everyone close to her; nothing scares her.

  “Can you tell me where she is?” she asks.

  “Yes.”

  “Well?” She sits forward, the sunflower on her right shoulder dipping toward me.

  With my index finger, I tap on the card, which gives me the witch’s location.

  “Will finding her this evening give you peace?”

  Her eyes meet mine. “Nothing will give me peace. But finding her will give me closure.”

  Honest. “Perhaps you should visit the rooftop. I understand there are conversation pits. In one, you shall find your witch. But tread lightly. A witch who has feasted on souls is potent.”

  She pushes to her feet and, with her hands, bunches the long tulle at the bottom of her dress.

  “Thank you”—she inhales—“for your help.”

  I sit back in the chair and tip my chin toward the door, dismissing her.

  As she leaves, the dark wizard waiting for me comes into sight.

  His aura is nothing like the girl’s.

  He carries with him the scent of darkness.

  His stormy gray gaze slides around the cube before locking onto mine, causing the air to escape my lungs. Without giving too much away, I study his features, trying to discern his ethnicity. I can’t. His hair is short, longer on the top with sexy messy waves. By the looks of all of his neck and knuckle tattoos, I am guessing that his upper body is probably covered in ink.

  He lifts a thumb, rubbing it over his plump bottom lip. As he does, I eye the masculine rings on his index and pinky fingers as well as a few metal bracelets adorning his wrists. The wizard is wearing all black: tailored leather pants, expensive boots, and a slim shirt open at the top with the sleeves rolled to his elbows, hinting at more of the beautiful ink decorating his tan skin.

  And his face—it’s full of all things dark and forbidden.

  He’s almost too much to look at.

  Too breathtaking and ominous.

  I’m overwhelmed in his presence. Dragneel Estaban, the infamous fire and ice wizard.

  The wizard who embodies darkness.

  The wizard who lies, cheats, and steals to get whatever it is that he wants.

  Dragneel has a dark and sinister presence around him—he’s charming but cunning. And yet, I can’t stop staring at him. Knowing this, he curls his upper lip, his jaw tight. I wish I weren’t so awed by him. I hadn’t expected to forget myself in his presence or to be so overcome by his appearance—even though he is the very reason I’m here at the Ball. He stands, pushing to his full height. He’s tall. So very tall. Ignoring the line outside, he casually strolls in without a care.

  Clearing my throat, I uncross and cross my legs, needing something to do.

  He watches the movement with a dark fascination.

  I drop my gaze to the cards on the table and remember my purpose.

  “Ahnyeonghaseyo,” he greets in Korean, slightly nodding his head as he steps into the cube.

  The door closes and disappears behind him, leaving a wall of glowing pink light.

  The bubble-gum color gives us privacy from prying eyes and curious ears.

  I sit back on the couch and meet his painfully beautiful eyes.

  “I speak English,” I state.

  Keeping his eyes on me, he steps closer. “I’m Dragn—”

  “I know who you are,” I cut him off.

  “Then you know why I am here,” he counters, seemingly amused at our banter.

  “For a reading?” I ask, keeping my expression impassive. I know he’s not.

  Dragneel cocks his head to the side and smirks. “No. Thank you. I already know my fate.”

  “Do you?” I challenge, holding his eyes.

  His eyes search mine. “I’m here seeking eternal magic.”

  “Eternal magic?” I repeat, keeping my tone even.

  “I understand you’re one of the mages who protect it.”

  “Maybe.” I sigh and tilt my head. “Then again, maybe not.”

  He takes a seat next to me on the couch, and all of my senses wake up. It’s like he’s flipped a switch inside of me, and I am no longer in control of my own body or feelings.

  I stare at Dragneel, curious as to my own reaction to him. Has he enthralled me? No. There is no magical energy coming from him. Interesting. It’s at this moment I envy the fuck out of him. He’s cool. Controlled. Giving nothing away as he dominates me and all of the energy in the room. I strive to be the way he is.

  “Give me the dagger that contains eternal magic, Katya,” he orders.

  “Does everyone always do what you want them to, Dragneel?”

  The way his intense eyes hold mine after I say his name leaves me breathless and flushed.

  “Most,” his tone is unabashed.

  It’s cute how he thinks I will bend to his will that easily. I must have been out of my damn mind for agreeing to be an eternal magic guardian. Dragneel is no different than all of the other wizards and witches who seek me out for it. He’s just darker around the edges than they are.

  Then again, nice beings usually bore the shit out of me.

  “How nice for you.”

  “Nice isn’t a word most use with me.” He sits back. “Never mistake me for anything other than what I truly am: darkness. A ruthless thief. A liar. Someone who will stab you in the back.”

  Even seated, he’s intimidating as he exudes strength and control.

  Weak mages and wizards don’t survive this kind of life for long.

  You can either kill or be killed.

  “So then, when you find the dagger, will you stab me in the back with it?” I ask.

  “That depends on how quickly you hand it over.”

  Holding his eyes, I lift my hand, and my cards disappear before I wiggle my empty fin
gers in front of him, taunting him with their disappearance. He narrows his hostile eyes at me. I like him.

  “How about I make you a deal?” I tempt.

  “I don’t negotiate with card mages,” he’s quick to say.

  “Why not?”

  “I find them . . . untrustworthy.”

  I laugh at the irony of his statement. He finds me treacherous. “Tell you what, dark wizard, the weapon is hidden in one of my card dimensions. You have until the ball ends to find it. If you do, and the dagger chooses to be released, you may have it,” I explain. “No strings attached.”

  “And if I don’t?” He won’t. It’s an impossible task.

  “Then it remains hidden in the card, in the pocket dimension. Under my guardianship.”

  He continues to watch me, his expression unreadable.

  I get the feeling Dragneel isn’t used to anyone making him work for things he wants.

  My impression is that everything is handed to him on a silver platter.

  “I appreciate the offer, but I don’t make deals with beings I don’t trust.”

  I stand, adjusting my dress, making a point to show him it barely covers my ass. “Eternal magic is not a game of trust. What I’m offering you, I never extend. If you want that big commission you’ll acquire from selling the dagger on the black market, you’ll have to earn it.”

  “What you’re offering me is a childish game of hide-and-seek.”

  True. “We’re at a ball. Who says business transactions can’t be fun while profitable?”

  “It’s not fun when it’s a one-sided game, Katya.”

  “Then up your game, Dragneel,” I challenge as I walk toward the door. It automatically opens before I look back at him over my bare shoulder. “This card mage twists fates. Consider your bank account’s fate in my hands this evening. The ball ends in six hours. So does my offer.”

  Chapter Four

  Game On

  Dragneel

  Tonight just turned into my worst fucking nightmare. Or maybe it’s my wettest dream. I knew the mage was hiding the dagger. I also knew she wouldn’t give it up quickly. What I didn’t realize was how smart she would be. Eternal magic weapons pull in a shitload of cash on the black market. Enough that I’d never have to take another job. Fuck the card mage and her childish games.

  I growl in frustration as I watch the sexy-as-fuck woman stride out of the room like the cube is her own personal runway. Damn, she is too small for this big world. Too beautiful. Too dangerous. Katya’s outer shell is as hard as hell. And, if we’re honest, under that short dress, she probably has bigger balls than I do. But someone forgot to warn her who she’s dealing with.

  There is one thing that irks me more than anything: I don’t like to be played with.

  And this little stunt that she is pulling, well, it doesn’t fucking sit well with me.

  I push to my feet and follow her out of the cube without ever taking my eyes off of her. She walks toward the railing of the loft and places both ring-covered hands on top, looking down.

  Briefly, my focus shifts to an all-American guy wearing a suit and tie and a girl with bright green eyes and dark brown hair. They eye the glowing chairs before deciding against sitting in them and continue their walk up toward the stairs that lead to the stage area where the band is.

  Composing myself, I return my attention back to Katya, taking her in, inch by inch, until I get the effect I want out of her. Her back stiffens, knowing I’m watching her. She shifts her weight from one hip to the other, swinging her long hair over her shoulder. I study her with a predatory glare. The way she’s fidgeting, I can tell I make her nervous, but not because she is scared of me. I cock my head to the side. She doesn’t fear me. I can’t recall the last time that happened.

  Her red nails tap on the railing, her attraction and unease coming off her in waves.

  She wants me to find the card.

  All right. I will.

  Little does she know her attraction to me is about to help me beat her at her own game.

  Katya turns back to face me, and we lock eyes. A raw, agonizing burn fills her gaze. It triggers an unspoken connection in me brought on by the darkness that I fucking love so much. I smile at her, arching an eyebrow as I slowly take a calculated step in her direction, unsure what I am trying to accomplish, just knowing that her attraction to me is the key to me finding the card.

  For a moment, she looks around like she is trying to escape the situation she is in.

  I realize I make her feel vulnerable and out of control.

  She hates it.

  I fucking love it.

  Katya doesn’t strike me as someone who follows directions. So dominating her is out of the question. But making her feel unsettled? That I can do in my fucking sleep. Not faltering, I take a step into her personal space, my six-foot-four stance looming over her petite frame—even in heels. A sudden flush presents itself on her cheeks. It’s subtle. No one would notice, but I do.

  The mage doesn’t cower. If anything, she stands taller in challenge. I reach for a piece of her dark hair, twirling the strand around my finger. Red streaks shine through the silky black pieces. Her breath hitches, and her eyes dilate when I release the section of hair and instead brush my knuckles along her pink-hued cheek, enjoying the feeling of her soft skin against my own.

  “I thought the dagger was your endgame tonight. Not me,” she whispers.

  “You became my endgame as soon as you tempted and challenged me.”

  Her eyes dart around us, but no one is paying any attention to what we’re doing.

  I lean down, capturing her eyes again. “I think I make you wet. Should I check?”

  Her lips part as she tells me yes with her eyes and body language. “Cocky much?”

  The words are barely out of her mouth when I press into her, pushing her against the railing, pinning her with my hips as my mouth comes down hard against hers. In surprise at my sudden assault, her plum-flavored lips open, and I take advantage of the motion, slipping my tongue into her mouth. This kiss isn’t gentle. It isn’t meant to be. It’s fierce. Frantic. Frenzied. Hard.

  In a split second, it becomes all-consuming. I know I’m fucked, because when I release her mouth, my body becomes cold again, empty and alone. That dark, desperate thought grips me.

  She grabs the back of my neck, as she presses herself against me, needing more. My hands glide up the back of her bare thighs, inching toward her ass, which is barely fucking covered by her tiny black dress. One of my hands skims around the front of her body, sliding between us, resting on her bare thigh where the hem of her dress rests. I feel her skin pebble under my touch, causing me to get hard. I want her. Right here and now. And fuck, I don’t care who might be watching or who might come along while I am buried deep inside of her. I let my hand move up her leg, taking her dress up with the slow motion. When I get to the top of her thigh, I realize just how uninhibited she is.

  There is no material.

  No seam of pretty panties.

  Just bare, soft skin.

  “So fucking sexy,” I rasp out.

  “We should go somewhere more private,” she whimpers.

  “Not a fucking chance.” I slide my mouth across her cheek, kissing it softly before whispering in her ear, “Right here with the sound of the bass vibrating through us works for me.”

  The thrill of doing something usually done behind closed doors out here in the open adds to the rush of anticipation. Shifting my head, I meet her eyes and search for a sign of hesitation or protest. There is none. Not even when I nudge her knees apart so I can get my hand between her legs. Katya is up for the challenge, which makes her my kind of playmate.

  She shifts and bites down on her lower lip to stifle a gasp as my fingers find her damp center. Her body is slick and hot, her wet folds ready to welcome my anxious fingers. I slip them inside of her and flick them back and forth as her body quivers under my touch. She tilts her hips forward, toward me a little, mutteri
ng something under her breath. I lean down and sink my teeth into the bare flesh of her exposed shoulder, which causes her to drop her head back with a moan.

  After teasing and torturing her, I pull my wet fingers out of her dripping folds and suck them. Her gaze quickly becomes heavy-lidded and filled with desire. Knowing she’s close, I reach under her dress again and circle her clit with measured strokes, quickly placing my mouth over hers to swallow her cries of pleasure. She grinds against me as I toy with her clit, her body heating and pulsing around me. Her thighs shake, and I hum in approval. The laughter and music around us fall away; all I focus on is how close she is to coming and how hard my cock is.

  I give her clit one last slow circular rub followed by a quick flick, and she comes, hard. After a few moments, she composes herself, blinking out of her orgasmic daze. With a wicked smirk, I remove my hand, and like a gentleman, I readjust the hem of her dress. Once she’s steady, I take a step back. Panting, she watches me, part confused and part still turned on, wondering why I stopped. I push my shoulders back, jerking away from her, hoping like fuck she doesn’t suddenly get any unrealistic expectations about us, or what this was, in her head. Mages and wizards are possessive motherfuckers when it comes to mating. My fate won’t be sealed that way. Ever.

  Sensing a change in me, she quickly puts back on her game face.

  A few minutes ago, I thought finding the card wasn’t going to happen.

  Now, seeing how responsive she is to my touch, it’s game on.

  Chapter Five

  Unlucky At Love

  Katya

  The air around me is heavy as I leave the ladies’ room—I’d slipped into it to clean up any evidence of my bad decision-making—and head to the bar. Damn that dark wizard and his sexy-ass skilled fingers. Good God, I’m like a magnet and sucker for the wrong guys. All. The. Fucking. Time.

  I step up to Onyx, an old friend of mine who is bartending at Right Bar.

  “I need a drink,” I grumble.