Fuck it. This is my party after all. There was no point torturing himself anymore. He’d replayed his earlier failure all evening and it changed nothing.
Roc hastily peeled off the specially tailored suit jacket and dress shirt that allowed his wings to extend. As he tugged on the black leather pants, his tail uncoiled from around his waist and flicked in agitation, a reflection of his mood. Roc glanced in the mirror. He’d let his horns grow in for this occasion, rather than sheer them short like he usually did. He grimaced at his reflection, exposing his sharp canines. For some reason they were bothering him.
“Now for the last touch.” Roc shifted his skin tone till it was as dark as his pants.
He unfurled his wings, flexed them a few times to get the blood flowing then threw open the door, uncaring if the performers in the adjoining room were dressed to play their part or not. He was done waiting and wondering.
“Oh wow. That’s an amazing rig,” a woman with red hair wearing a striped bodysuit exclaimed as she ran her hand over his wing.
“Thanks.” Roc tried to move past her, but she shifted into his path.
“I’m Aimee.” She extended her hand, while her eyes roved his bare chest.
“Nice to meet you.” Roc nodded but didn’t offer his name. Any other time he would’ve talked with all the performers and soak in Aimee’s admiring glances. But he was on a mission tonight.
“George said we’d have a guest performer joining the crew for this gig, but he didn’t tell us your costume would be so remarkable. Who did this work, Barrett?” Aimee continued, undaunted by his dismissal.
“Yeah. Pardon me. I need to get out there.” Roc brushed past her and headed out the door.
“It’s time to mingle,” he heard the eager redhead announce to the rest of the troop.
Roc ignored the oohs and ahhs, and the sound of the performers hustling behind him to begin their routine, as he wove through the crowd. His head swiveled every which way searching for Meline. He wasn’t quite sure what he’d do if she didn’t show. Not only would he be back at square one, trying to invent a way to cross paths with her, but he’d also be disappointed. His steps faltered, surprised by the realization and the totally unexpected way the delicate female had burrowed under his skin.
meline
Meline fretted with the long skirt of her pink dress as she gingerly made her way through the ornate revolving door of the palatial hotel. The moment she entered the reception hall, she was struck by all the dark wood paneling and shiny reflective brass. She wanted to take a tour of Chateau Frontenac, but never imagined this was how she’d see the place. She panned from the reservation desks to the opposite end of the vestibule, wondering where this party was. Her eyes widened when she spotted a bunch of poshly dressed people filing past a reception table.
“That can’t be where I’m supposed to go.” But she had a sinking feeling it was. “There’s still time to turn back,” she muttered.
She had an inkling this was going to be a swanky event, but she’d drastically underestimated what that meant. She was totally out of her element among the elegant women in colorful designer dresses and men in tuxedos. She was better suited to the casually dressed hotel guests being relegated to one end of the lavishly decorated foyer.
Meline scrubbed a finger over her teeth one last time, hoping she didn’t have lipstick on them. She rarely wore make-up. It made her feel more like a circus clown than beautiful. Then again, she’d never really learned how to do it properly. The lipstick and eyeshadow she picked out in the store always seemed garish once she got them out of the package at home.
What was I thinking? She fidgeted as she joined the back of the line. Jen will kill me if I don’t text her photo evidence that I showed up, that’s what I was thinking. I blame her for any carnage that ensues.
“Your name?” the man at the reception table asked, capturing her attention.
She focused on the man in the black and silver half mask. Not only was she clueless just how nice this event would be, she wasn’t aware it was a costume party either.
Well, it is that time of year.
The way he looked her up and down, wearing a flat gratuitous smile, made her want to groan. It was obvious she didn’t belong here. That’s what he was thinking.
“Meline.”
“Meline Lauber?”
“Yes,” Meline replied, slightly surprised he actually had her on the list. Somehow, she expected Roc to have forgotten.
“Wonderful. Right this way, madame.”
Unlike the other guests, who were checked off the list and sent on their way, the masked man escorted her past the arched entry everyone else was milling through. She nervously followed, wondering why she was being singled out.
He’s taking me to the servant’s entrance or the exit, she snickered wryly to herself.
“The host asked that you be given your pick of our complimentary costumes.” The man pointed to the selection hanging up in a coatroom.
“Oh.” Meline smiled in embarrassment as she admired the glitzy accessories.
After toiling all afternoon, she’d decided that Roc might not have been taking pity on her after all. She was being overly self-conscious. No doubt he felt just as bad as she did when they knocked noggins. It was probably that foreign hospitality she’d heard about that made him extend the invite. That was why she finally made up her mind to take a chance and come. Although her curiosity about Roc, and Jen’s constant haranguing might’ve helped. But this was too kind. Roc knew she wasn’t from here and likely wouldn’t have been able to get a costume in time. And if he had told her this was a costume party she would’ve worn the wrong thing. She was used to the kind of parties where the guys showed up dressed like greasy-haired vampires and the girls were slutty kittens.
I’ve never been to a masquerade.
Meline grinned as she perused the various accessories covered in sequins, feathers and gossamer fabric. A warm feeling filled the pit of her stomach that Roc was considerate enough to think about her. Her dress couldn’t compare to half of what she’d seen the other women wearing, but at least now she’d fit in a tad bit more. Her eyes were drawn to a pair of white angel wings and she gravitated toward them. She ran her hand over the downy feathers. There were little sparkly jewels dotting the wings looking like dew drops.
“Wonderful choice. They’re fabulous.” The way the man said fabulous, she got the impression he preferred guys over gals. “Here let me.” He kindly helped her slip them on.
The wings were positively amazing, reminding her of the ones the Victoria’s Secret models wore, but better. She stood up straighter, her shoulders back, chin up. It was funny how such a trivial thing made her suddenly feel elegant.
“You can select a mask, but I don’t think you need it.” The man admired her as if seeing her in a new light.
“So, you think I’ll pass in this crowd, looking less like some bum who wandered off the street?”
The guy grimaced hearing her comment.
Yeah, I noticed your judgmental look earlier.
“Madame, you are a personal guest of our anonymous host. You could wear rags and most of these patrons would fall over themselves to make your acquaintance.”
“Anonymous?” Meline tilted her head in confusion.
“Yes. This is the event of the year, yet no one knows who’s throwing this fundraiser for the museum. But I bet you do.” The man lifted his mask and gave her a conspiratorial look, obviously hoping she’d clue him in on the secret.
“Oh no,” Meline giggled. “I’m not spilling the beans.” She hardly knew Roc, but if he wanted anonymity, she wasn’t about to spoil it.
A thrill of wicked excitement filled her that she knew something all these fancy people were gossiping about.
“Well you should be sure to check out the Bosch painting your friend donated. It’s the theme for this whole party,” he commented as they left the coatroom.
“I will, thank you.”
Mel
ine wandered out of the vestibule and found her way to the back of a crowd milling in a clump. When they thinned, she saw the oil painting. It was like a macabre nightmare with garish creatures, angels, black-winged demons, and people being tormented. The medieval piece was colorful but still came off very, very dark.
“Judgment,” she read the label. “Well that looks about right.” And it did make the perfect theme for a masquerade.
Movement caught her attention and Meline turned to see a performer on stilts, decked out in feathers and a beaked mask. He was a perfect version of the vulture in the painting. She didn’t feel odd gawking at him as he hopped, gyrated and cocked his head like a real-life creepy buzzard, because all the rich attendees were just as taken with his performance. The man was so steady on his feathered stilts that she wondered if Roc hired Cirque du Soleil to entertain his guests. That seemed like something a man who rented out half this hotel would do.
I can’t even imagine how much all this costs.
She turned in circles, taking in the yards of black and burgundy fabric, potted trees and everything else that had been brought in to turn the hotel into the embodiment of the medieval torment. And she hadn’t even entered the grand ballroom yet. She found Roc daunting before, knowing he was behind all this didn’t help. Meline stopped as she came to a magnificent split staircase. She froze, her gaze riveted to the character at the top.
Oh God.
A demon larger than life and black as night stood surveying everyone below, judging them like they were the damned in the painting. His massive leathery wings arched over his back, nearly touching the ceiling with their clawed tips, gruesome and glorious.
A cry rose up from the crowd when the demon leapt from the height. Everyone scattered as he landed amidst them. Their fright swiftly turned to awed gasps and clapping, but she was too shocked to be amused quite yet. There was something familiar about the beastly man.
Meline panned up the leather pants that clung to his thick muscular thighs then paused seeing the tail that flicked behind him. It seemed so real, moving the way a tiger’s would. And he swaggered with the grace of a predator, too. Her eyes widened when she realized the demon was coming straight for her. These performers were taking their roles just a little too seriously.
She backed up but her angel wings kept her from melting into the crowd. Her gaze shifted from his stacked abs, corded thick arms, to his impossibly broad chest. He had to be a demon, no man was built like this. When she reached his face the first thing she noticed were the pair of horns jutting through his wavy black hair. They weren’t curled over on themselves, just sharp points, a few inches long, the same raven color as the rest of his harsh features.
“I’m glad you decided to come,” the deep voice spoke from a broad mouth sporting wicked canines.
Her gaze darted to a pair of silver-gray eyes and recognition dawned on her.
“Roc?” she gasped. If he hadn’t approached her she never would’ve found him in that wild costume.
“Yes,” he chuckled. “I didn’t frighten you, did I?”
When she made up her mind to come, she promised she wouldn’t act like a freak around Roc. She assured herself the incident in the bookstore was just a fluke. But seeing him standing there in that intense costume, surrounded by the glamorous party he was throwing, made holding to her promise twice as hard. Plus, he was bigger than she remembered. And holy hell his muscles had muscles. He even had that vee of muscles below his six pack, disappearing into his leather pants.
You have to be kidding me. She bit her lip to hold in another shocked sound. The bulge in his crotch was daunting but also made her weak in the knees at the same time. She darted her gaze back to Roc’s face before he caught her gaping at his dick.
Jesus, I’m so out of my league. He’s rich, captivating, built like a god and hung like a horse. Her nerves frayed and the confidence she built up just to get here wilted.
No, no, no! Get it together! You may not be rich or worldly but that doesn’t make you any less. You’re just as awesome as all these people, she channeled her friend.
“Meline?” Roc cocked his head.
She needed to say something before he started to think she was some mute idiot.
You’re playing a role, that’s what this is. She lifted her chin, looking more confident than she felt.
“What does an angel have to fear from the devil?” Meline coyly asked as she toyed with one of her wings.
“You do look utterly divine,” Roc replied with a panty-dropping smile, making her blush.
The butterflies that had been vibrating in her stomach took flight as he stepped incredibly close. She was forced to stare straight up to maintain eye contact. With his skin dark as night, those horns, and wings blocking out the light, Roc looked wicked, and yet she was drawn to him.
“But are you honestly telling me, little angel, you aren’t tempted to sin?”
Her heart stuttered in her chest at the suggestive comment. It was like he truly was the devil, reading her thoughts.
He’s flirting with me. Her mouth gaped in shock, not so much from what Roc said but that he said it to her—her!
A woman nearby choked into her hand, and Meline remembered they had an audience. The woman was giggling even though she tried to hide it as she watched the Meline and Roc floor show. Meline glanced back up at Roc to find him grinning like a Cheshire cat. She narrowed her eyes at him. He might have been flirting, but he was also laying it on thick just to get a rise out of her. And he was goading her in front of all these people. The man was truly rotten.
Everyone’s expecting to be entertained, I best not disappoint.
Meline took two steps back and slowly, confidently looked Roc up and down. She didn’t shy away from staring at the part of him that filled out his pants, even though she had to shove down the giddy feeling coursing through her, so she didn’t blush or trip over her words.
“And you think you’ve got what it takes to make me fall from grace?” She cocked one brow at him as she rolled her shoulders, shimmying her wings.
One of the onlookers snorted and Meline couldn’t help turn and wink at them. She glanced back at Roc in time to see his eyes flash as he swiftly closed the distance between them. Meline drew in a sharp breath when his massive dark wings enveloped her.
“You have no idea all the ways I could sully you. I’d drag you into the pit, and with every glorious scream from those luscious pink lips you’d declare it was heaven.”
Roc’s husky voice was so deep, his breath tickling the shell of her ear, making her shiver. Meline knew this was good-natured rowdy banter, but someone needed to tell that to her body. She was so close to his chest she could feel the heat radiating off the wicked man. His washboard stomach made her fingers itch to reach out and follow the peaks and valleys. And the spicy masculine scent he exuded mixed with leather had her salivating. He’d called her bluff, then one-upped her, throwing her off balance again.
Touché, she nearly squeaked out loud.
roc
Roc couldn’t help showing off his true nature. This was his excuse to stretch his wings for once. It was the reason he donated this particular painting to begin with. When he saw Meline, something inside him stood at attention, and it wasn’t just his cock. He had to reach her before she got away. Leaping from the mezzanine was probably a bit over the top, except he was unable to resist the urge. She was a vision, standing out in the crowd of masked guests. The white wings she wore combined with her unadulterated beauty and he was certain she’d dropped from heaven. As angelic as she was, her body was temptation pure and simple. Her breasts weren’t ridiculously large, but they were perky, hidden beneath that pink dress that hugged her squeezable full ass. Roc wasn’t kidding when he said he wanted to corrupt her. He thought it was her shy nature that riled something primal in him, till she straightened her shoulders and gave him a taste of his own medicine.
Holy Macero!
A fire blazed to life inside when she l
aid down the challenge while brazenly admiring him, wings and all. He’d underestimated her. Meline wasn’t as shy as he made her out to be. His little angel had a fiery side and he wanted to possess it. Before he knew it, he had her wrapped in his wings, ready to act out the salacious visions burning in his mind.
“You’re incorrigible,” Meline deflected his scathing comment, again looking like she might bolt.
Wrapped in his wings she couldn’t go far, and he wasn’t about to let her. But it did remind him that he needed to crank it down a notch.
“Yeah, but I have a lot of fun in the process,” he chuckled.
“I bet you do. You’ve got everyone talking, between this unbelievable costume and the mysterious benefactor for this party,” Meline whispered.
“Costume?! This is the real me,” he admitted, knowing full well she’d think he was joking.
“Oh, I completely believe you’re evil with that rowdy display,” she laughed.
He loved the bubbly sound. And as much as he liked seeing her blush and the erotic tension zinging between them, feeling her relax while still enfolded in his wings was satisfying on a deep level.
Meline caught him off guard when she reached up and tugged one of his horns. It shocked him how sensitive they were. No one touched his horns, certainly not a female with delicate little fingers. But more than that was the strange sensation that radiated through him. It started where her fingers grazed him, then moved down his spine and radiated through his limbs. He nearly groaned but repressed it.
“Roc! Did you superglue these horns on? You’re never going to get them off,” she admonished.
At any other time, he would’ve been amused by such a tiny female taking him to task. But the way Meline smirked at him, concern lacing her expression, while her fingers still traced the base of one horn, amused was not the emotion that was riding him. Dammit, she made behaving impossible.
Hard as Rock Page 5