The Monster Ball Year 2

by Heather Hildenbrand

  One look at me, and the pink-haired witch chuckles. “No. You need a shot, Kat.”

  “Is it that obvious?”

  “Tequila is the answer for everything,” she replies in a cheerful voice.

  “Then bring it on.”

  Onyx tilts her head toward Left Bar. After she chants a magical spell under her breath, a tequila bottle lifts off the shelf and floats over to her. Barassa snaps his head toward us, and she winks and smiles at him. With a heavy eye roll, the lion shifter shakes his head and refocuses on the guest in front of him before Onyx places two shot glasses in front of me, pouring doubles in both.

  “Trying to get me drunk?” I quip.

  “Never,” she replies, feigning innocence.

  I grab one of the shot glasses and smile at her. “What?” I ask when she frowns.

  Her brown eyes shift behind me. “I’m no fortune-telling card mage, but I get the distinct sense that tall, dark, and handsome is the reason for your sudden quest for hard liquor.”

  With my brows pinched, I look over my shoulder to see Dragneel approaching.

  I grimace and turn back to face Onyx, needing something else to look at other than him.

  She’s smirking at me knowingly. I hate that she knows me so well.

  “Just don’t,” I groan.

  “You totally want him,” she accuses. “I mean, I want him. Look at him.”

  I scoff and take my shot. “What I want is for him to leave me alone.”

  A large hand reaches out next to me with a hundred in it, extended toward Onyx. With a flirty wink, she takes the tip and slips it between her breasts before pushing the second shot toward Dragneel.

  “We have unfinished business.” He downs the shot and places the glass on the bar.

  “Do we?” I look anywhere but at him.

  “I still need the dagger containing eternal magic, Kat.”

  Snapping my gaze to his, I stare at him as he exudes power. Dragneel’s looks are ridiculously handsome, but it’s his eyes that hold his true beauty. They reach into your soul and possess you without even trying. His gaze roams over me, and I can’t help but feel him everywhere.

  The predatory yet captivating look in his eyes pins me.

  And for some stupid, girlie reason, I can’t tear my gaze away from his.

  I stare at him.

  Inhale him.

  Feel him.

  I have no idea what this hold is that Dragneel has on me, but he sets my nerves on fire. Suddenly, I want to know everything about him. The man behind the power and dominance—both of which are qualities I respect and am attracted to. Dark or not. God, I am so fucking lame.

  Turning on the stool, I face him, looking up into his intense gaze. Power changes people. The darkness that surrounds him—it isn’t something you’re born with. It’s a strategically placed armor that takes years to craft. Very few know how to crack it to get to the core of who someone truly is.

  And it hits me. I know how to get through it.

  Because I wear the same protective armor he does, for the same reason.

  I sigh out a breath.

  He continues to glare at me, sensually rubbing his thumb over his bottom lip.

  “Why is attaining eternal magic so important to you?” I ask.

  He cocks his head to the side, arching an eyebrow. “Why is anything in life important?”

  I try a different angle. “It’s rumored that you have more money than God.”

  “True.”

  “Then why sell the dagger on the black market?”

  “Simple. Because I can.”

  I glare at him. “That isn’t a reason.”

  “It is a reason,” he smirks down at me. “Just not the one you were looking for.”

  “Want to know what I think?” I counter.

  One shoulder lifts casually. “Not really. But I am sure you are going to tell me.”

  Exhaling, I hold his gaze and ignore his disinterest in what I have to say. “For a dark wizard who wields two powerful opposing gifts, eternal magic could be the key to their soul’s survival.”

  Dragneel’s jaw clenches, and his demeanor changes—I hit a nerve.

  “I lost my soul a long time ago,” he says, his tone matter-of-fact. “I have no desire to find it again.”

  I swallow as he pushes between my legs, looking down into my eyes. I like that he doesn’t give a fuck. If he wants to look at me, he does. And he doesn’t apologize for it. His confidence is sexy.

  Torn between wanting to run from him and to him, I take a breath. “Eternal magic will heal the conflict in you.” My lungs seize at the tranquil expression that appears on his face.

  “Eternal magic is poison to someone like me. I have no interest in it other than to sell it.”

  Dragneel’s gifts are well known within the magic community. He casts both fire and ice magic. When a mage carries rival elemental powers, it’s usually a death sentence because the opposite energies try to fight for control. Yet there is no storm behind his eyes, only peace.

  “Do you understand, Katya?”

  The hair on my arms rises at the way he says my name. The whispered prayer causes my stomach to flutter in a way that it has no fucking business doing. That is when the realization hits me. Dragneel’s fire magic is tied to something much darker and more powerful: blood magic.

  Practitioners of blood magic can cast dark spells that can save someone from death, though some would say death is a much kinder fate. I know this because blood magic is what saved me, against my will, when my magic vanished. Damn. No wonder I am as drawn to him as I am.

  Darkness seeks darkness.

  That is why eternal magic won’t work on him—he already has everlasting dark magic.

  Like me. Fuck my life.

  With his intense eyes locked onto mine, he steps back and I manage to slip off the stool and take a step away from him. Quickly, his hand snaps out, and he gently grabs my elbow, stopping me from leaving.

  My gaze drops to where his touch burns my skin. “We’re done, Dragneel.”

  “Look, protecting eternal magic, it takes some fucking balls,” he rasps. “Even I can appreciate what you’re doing, Kat. But I always get what I want. And tonight, I want the fucking dagger.”

  I snap my eyes to his and lower my voice. “Then find the goddamn card.”

  “That’s what I was trying to do upstairs before my hands were on you.”

  “In me,” I correct. “And finger fucking me won’t get you what you want.”

  “Won’t it?” he challenges, leaning over me, his mouth at my ear and his breath hot as he whispers. “With a pretty pussy like yours, you’re lucky it was my fingers and not my tongue.”

  I try not to flinch when he takes a step closer to me and then another until he’s inches from my face. This close up, I can see the flecks of darker gray in his gaze and the ink from the tattoos inking his skin.

  “Are you going to play nice and give me the card?” He stares me down.

  “No.” I don’t back down.

  “Why the hell not?”

  “Because I can.” I throw his words back at him and abruptly turn, walking away.

  Chapter Six

  Three. Two. One.

  Dragneel

  A rational being would back down, stop purposely pissing off the person who is hiding the one thing in the world you seek, but my desire, and my ego won’t let me. A full minute goes by before I growl out my frustration and quickly follow her, cutting across the dance floor. Once in the center, the band changes the song from a fast, upbeat dance song to a slow, sultry tune.

  At her heels, I reach across the small space between us and grab her wrist, forcing her to stop walking. The lights dim around us before she turns around and stares at me with confusion and anger in her brown eyes. I try not to think about the deep layers of chocolate framed by her long, thick lashes. Or the way her red lips parted with a gasp when she saw it was me who grabbed her.

  My fingers buzz with the
awareness that I’m touching her skin again.

  I close my eyes briefly and clench my jaw. What the hell is that?

  When I reopen my lids, I notice Katya has moved closer, her expression unreadable.

  “Aside from the dagger, what else do you want from me?” she whispers.

  Something odd builds inside my chest, pressing down until it hurts to breathe. The intensity in the room shifts with her question because it feels like it’s laced with a deeper meaning.

  What else do I want? I have no fucking clue. “Dance with me.”

  “I can’t.”

  “Why the hell not?”

  “Dancing with you . . . it would be intimate.” She smiles sadly. “And the last thing I need in my life is to be intimate and obsessed with a guy who lies, cheats, and steals for a living.”

  “And yet, you’ll let me finger fuck you in public?”

  When she doesn’t answer me, my eyes move over her, taking all of her in.

  Fuck, she is beautiful.

  I reach for her, not sure what I’m trying to accomplish, maybe just needing to touch her.

  She slowly steps away from me. “What we did was not intimate. It was lust.”

  My chest feels tight and off as I stare at her like she’s the forbidden fruit I want.

  The truth is I like pissing Katya off because I like getting a reaction out of her.

  And that scares me . . . because I think she might be able to tame the untamable.

  I consider her words. She doesn’t want intimacy. Fine.

  However, she didn’t say no to more meaningless sex with me. Did she?

  And that, my friends, is how I am going to get what I want from her tonight.

  “Come with me,” I demand, taking her hand and guiding her off the dance floor.

  Without a word, Katya lets me drag her up the rainbow stairs and back toward the second-floor loft. A handful of the ball’s guests who were waiting for readings are now focused on another cube, whispering something about a Fae showdown. Apparently, someone was drugged, and when they woke up, they got pissed off, screamed, and shattered the cube’s walls. We must have just missed the ensuing showdown; whatever happened up here seconds ago, it appears to be over now.

  The door to the pink cube sits wide open. And my luck—it’s still empty. I guide her back into the private space, and once we’re in, I release her hand, and the door slides closed behind us. This is not how I fucking imagined tonight going. When I turn to face her, I’m hit full-on by her beauty.

  My heart thuds in my chest, and it hurts to breathe. I shouldn’t have touched her. Ever. I’m supposed to be here for eternal magic, but touching her shifted my focus. And now look at me, drooling over her like a teenage boy with his first crush. I need to get her out of my system.

  The weight of her gaze makes the silence around us feel heavier. Katya lifts her chin, her stance letting me know she is ready to show me her brass balls once again if I get out of line. I don’t say anything, wanting to fuck with her because she makes it so damn easy.

  Instead, I ignore her. With a blank expression, I walk over to the couch and sit down.

  I lean forward and place my elbows on my knees, remaining silent.

  I’ve never been envious of anyone—until now. She’s so fucking calm.

  “I know what you’re doing,” she points out.

  “Do you?”

  “Intimidation doesn’t work on me.”

  “Doesn’t it?” I challenge.

  “You don’t scare me, Dragneel.”

  Watching her, I can’t help but smirk. She lies. I do scare her because she is attracted to me. And for some reason, that terrifies her. This isn’t a power struggle I’m willing to lose. There is too much at stake. The dagger. Once I break her, she’s going to hand it the fuck over. The end.

  “I’m not trying to scare you,” I lie.

  “Then why are you trying to intimidate me?”

  “I want to see you dance.”

  She narrows her eyes, confused. “What?”

  “Downstairs was too intimate for you. Us dancing together was too intimate for you.”

  “And a privacy cube is—”

  “Private,” I finish her thought. “You dance. I watch. No intimacy.”

  She frowns, looking around, and I slide back onto the sofa, parting my legs and resting my arms on the backside of the couch. When her eyes meet mine again, there is fire behind them.

  “Whatever game you’re playing, it isn’t going to get me to hand over the dagger.”

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

  She rolls her eyes at the fact that I threw her own words back at her.

  “Dancing, at a ball, is supposed to be fun. So”—I shrug—“show me you can have fun.”

  One of my fingers runs across my bottom lip, something I do when I’m considering a strategy or thinking about my next step. Her gaze follows the movement, and I know I have her.

  My gaze is brazen as it travels down her neck toward her chest, over her tiny waist and hips and her bare thighs. I imagine nestling my face between her legs as she screams out my name.

  “Not so cocky now, are you, Kat?” I challenge.

  Katya’s eyes come alive, burning bright as she pins me with a sexy, arrogant expression. Her breathing is slow, intense, her chest rising and falling like it’s taking effort for her to breathe.

  Time stands still as I watch her try to figure out my angle.

  Even still, she doesn’t bat an eye.

  Katya is cool, calm, and collected. In control of her surroundings and demeanor.

  “Can I ask you something?” she whispers.

  “Go ahead,” I agree.

  “When was the last time someone challenged you?” she asks.

  I don’t answer.

  The truth is never.

  No one has ever challenged me.

  Understanding crosses her face, and she exhales, her eyes darting between my mouth and chin. Something in me stirs. What the hell? She makes me feel desired in a way no one else has.

  Alive.

  I wait.

  My silence manipulates her into doing what I want.

  The second she gives in, it’s game over. I’ve won.

  She has no idea that I am going to destroy her.

  Make her beg me to give her what she wants.

  And in exchange, she’ll give me what I want: the fucking dagger that holds eternal magic.

  Swallowing, she shuts her eyes for a few seconds, needing to steady her emotions.

  The moment she’s decided, I see it in her expression.

  Her eyes flutter open and meet mine.

  The seductive music filters in from the siren singing with the band at the ball, and the soft pink hue that pulses off the cube’s wall falls across her skin sensually.

  And that’s it.

  I lock eyes with her, expecting her to look terrified.

  She doesn’t.

  I lift my hand and beckon her forward.

  Without hesitation, she does what I want.

  And I know I’ve already won.

  Chapter Seven

  Letting Your Guard Down

  Katya

  He hasn’t won. Not at all. So don’t even think about it. I’m not typically a violent person, but he makes me want to punch him in his beautiful face. One minute, I empathize with him. And the next, I want to stab him in the heart. I need therapy. Either way, I am going to win tonight.

  Not him.

  He slides back onto the sofa, watching me. Without trying, he takes up all of the space in the room. He waits me out. Waiting for me to call his bluff. I don’t. I know he’s trying to manipulate me, bend me to his will. What he fails to realize is that this little stunt of his—it’s not going to work.

  At least, not the way he expects it to.

  He angles his head, staring into my eyes. The more intense the situation, the better he is at remaining in control. He thrives on it as he
motions for me to go to him. For a moment, I hesitate.

  But the truth is, a part of me wants him to like me.

  I want him to keep looking at me with his sinful gaze.

  I want him to touch me again.

  If I’m stuck playing games with him all night, I might as well get some pleasure out of it. Right? Our eyes stay connected as he studies each step I take toward him as if he’s trying to ingrain my movements into his memory. Before I can give it another thought, I take a deep breath and stop when my knees brush his. Slowly, I lean over him, my hands sliding up his thighs and my lips coming within a breath of his as I sway my hips to the sensual pulse of the music.

  Dragneel narrows his darkened eyes at me. “This should be interesting.”

  The challenge mixed with awe in his tone is all the encouragement I need. Readying to crawl onto his lap, I start to lift my leg, but his quick movements stop me cold. Reaching out, he grabs me by the hips and pulls me forward, so I’m caught between his legs, ending my actions.

  Staring up at me, Dragneel rubs his thumbs over the thin material of my black dress. My chest rises and falls with each brush of his fingers against my body, awakening a need within me.

  “I’ve changed my mind,” he rasps.

  Pinching my brows, I look down at him. The look he’s giving me has me feeling like I’m about to jump out of my own skin. Slowly, his palms skim up and down my sides. His touch is warm and sends tiny zaps of fire into me. I’ve never been so in tune with myself or my body as I am right now.

  His hands lift, and his fingers lightly caress the sides of my face.

  At the touch, I relax.

  Once I let my guard down, he grabs my hands, placing them around the back of his neck.

  Without letting go, he pushes to his feet, forcing me to take a step back. Dragneel won’t let me, though. He brings me closer to his body, wrapping his arms around the small of my back.

  I stare up into the layers of gray in his eyes as his forehead drops and rests against mine. No matter how many times I lock eyes with him, trying to figure him out, I can’t. Because, I realize his darkness hides a devastating sadness. He’s full of mistrust. Fearful of being hurt.

  I swallow when I realize he’s moving us around the private space—dancing with me.