“We should head back, I think,” Maximus finally says. He sits up and starts to button his shirt. “We’ve been gone a suspiciously long time. Your brother has to have noticed by now.”
“Mm, not yet,” I moan, burrowing into the warm place he’s left behind on the blanket. I’m determined to savor every last second of our happy little bubble. Too soon, it’ll be over. We’ll be back in the world of glitter heels and Tinseltown deals, balanced with academia propriety and politics. Both such ridiculous games—but until we get the underworld’s final ruling, these games are compulsory for us.
Fortunately, Maximus doesn’t let me get too morose about that. “Fire’s almost out anyway.” He sweeps sand over the dying embers with his massive paddle of a foot. “And you still haven’t gotten your party food fix.”
“Well, there is that.”
I accept his hand so I can fully stand and straighten out my dress. He obviously approves of me prioritizing the five thousand layers of the skirt, fixating on my chest without a flinch. Everything’s fallen out of the silky bodice, meaning it’s impossible to hide how his approving growl turns my nipples into pinpoints. I swat away his teasing advances to right myself once and for all.
“Hey there, mister. I thought you were eager to get back inside.”
“Not exactly eager.” He brandishes a look I’m not used to receiving outside his lecture hall. His lips are firm, but his stare is penetrating. “More of a polite compulsion. Make no mistake, there’s a savage in me that never wants to leave this beach.”
I’m not sure what’s sexier: the complete conviction beneath his soft statement or the way he kneels again to press a reverent kiss atop one of my sand-covered feet. It’s barely a brush of his lips, but my bloodstream doesn’t know the difference. Or my nerve endings. Or every pore of my skin. Even with a mansion full of people possibly able to see everything we’re doing, I’m on the brink of begging him to whip everything out and ravage me all over again.
After a steady breath in and out, I control myself long enough to brush the sand away from his beard and lips. “Hmm. A savage, you say?”
He arches a brow. “Do you doubt it? Do I need to prove—?”
“You do not have to prove it. I know this savage very well.” I push at his chest, taking his warm hand in an attempt to tug us closer to the destination. “Besides, I have a feeling I may see again him very soon.”
As we approach the access point to Rerek’s place, I’m already dreading having to put the strappy stilettos back on. Maximus turns me around and lowers me to one of the concrete steps.
“Oh, I think you definitely will,” he answers to my musing. “Unless you want to play student and professor when we get back to my place,” he adds with a devilish smirk.
I giggle. “Well, I do love when you read the cantos with your pretend glasses on. Definitely does things for me.”
He chuckles as he works to fasten my straps. A little of the lightness of our night seeps away, though, as my thoughts take a dark turn. They’re doing this more and more lately, especially if the subject approaches anything that has to do with hell.
Arden. Rerek. Now Dante, unfortunately.
Maximus rises and kisses me softly. “Where did you go, beautiful?”
“It’s nothing.” I’m almost harsh about it, which isn’t his fault. But even Maximus’s gentle kiss is barely enough to pull me back. “Just…a visit to the underworld, even between those pages, isn’t exactly something I’ve wanted to think about lately,” I explain.
“Hey.” He strokes a hand over my hair. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to drag that into…wherever it went.”
I attempt a smile. “Was I that obvious?”
“Maybe not to others,” he replies. “But let’s just say you’ll have to try harder to hide from me. Though I really hope you don’t.”
I can only manage a nod, dually overwhelmed by his earnest sincerity and the fears I’m still trying to outrun. Stories that were just stories until I was faced with the actual threat of hell.
“I know you think it’s just a beautiful piece of poetry, Maximus. But whether Dante imagined it all or knew it to be true, I know that hell isn’t a myth.” I can’t control a small shiver. “Growing up, I heard too many stories to doubt it.” Another ice bath through my veins escalates the shiver to a shudder. “And it’s not a pretty place to go. Dante got that part right. I’m sure of it.”
His brows crowd in on each other. “How many of those kinds of stories have you been told?”
“Too many. Enough to have established a healthy fear of the place.” I avert my gaze. “Or maybe not so healthy. Though it definitely made us eat our peas and go to bed on time.”
I’m not sure how to take the new energy of Maximus’s stare. It doesn’t match anything in his psyche, which is still drenched in his adoration for me—though his intense blues say something different. I almost wonder if he’s just read my dismal thoughts in return, but his look doesn’t match any normal reaction to it. I don’t see pity or sadness or consolation. I simply feel…seen. And despite the mental subject matter, it feels wonderful.
The moment’s gone as fast as it came. At once, he’s back to the sincere charm that had me silently fawning over him back at President McCarthy’s house, especially as he tends to my feet, now well secured in my torture heels.
“Well, I’m terrified your brother isn’t leaving us any of the good party food.”
“Or the good scotch,” I add with a little laugh.
“Nothing but the best for you, my love.”
And here I am, thinking he couldn’t make me feel more treasured tonight. The words, and the way he issues them like a promise, are so much more fun to linger on as we climb the stairs back into the house, hand in hand. My leg muscles are sludge after being wrapped around him for the better part of an hour, but every one of my steps is a study in gliding confidence. It’s impossible to feel any other way. I’m on the arm of the man I love, and I can’t wait for the day I can be a part of all his plans. His days, his nights, his now, his forever.
Soon, I pray to any divine power within earshot of my soul. Please…please…soon.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Maximus
“So.”
Jaden Valari might be lit on at least a dozen substances right now, some legal and some not, but the stare he fires at me across Rerek’s long kitchen is one hundred percent sober.
“So?” I take a hesitant swallow from my glass of scotch, enjoying the expensive booze’s spicy caramel taste but little else.
Jaden leans forward like an indolent lion, bracing his arms along the quartz-topped island. “I’d ask what your intentions are toward Kara, but I’ve already gotten that part with crystal clarity.”
“My intentions?” I wince, not catching his meaning. Even in the most traditional sense, the challenge seems old-fashioned at best. Especially for a playboy demon who can’t seem to be bothered by much.
“Ah.” He smirks. “I guess K-demon forgot to mention I can hear shit practically into Santa Monica.”
I do my best to mask a stunned choke. Kara can pick up on every feeling in the room, and Kell can smell all of it. It should come as no surprise that Jaden has his own sensory specialties.
I clear my throat. “She definitely left out that part.”
He spreads out his arms, looking like Malibu Jesus even with a full cocktail tumbler in his grip. “Don’t worry, it’s easy enough to tune out when I decide to. There are some sounds a guy can’t unhear, you know?”
I actually don’t know, but I offer a confirming nod all the same.
“None of us had a choice about our birthrights,” he goes on, dipping his head with a wistful air. “Okay, nobody really does. I get that too.” He takes a long swig of whatever concoction is in his glass and raises his head. A hock of hair keeps obeying gravity, a thick triangle hanging between his eyes. Doesn’t matter. His dark-gold stare bores right into me. “Can I ask you something?”
> I nod again, maintaining neutrality. “Sure.”
“If you had the chance to not be Zeus’s bastard kid, would you take it?”
Damn. That’s definitely not where I predicted this going.
I recover swiftly. “Irrelevant question. It’s not a possibility, so why waste time dwelling on it? I’ve got to move on in spite of the circumstances.”
He chuckles. “Wow. So you and my sister really were made for each other.”
I’m taken aback by the affection in his voice. The Valaris are possessive, cunning, and protective. Of all my interactions with them, though, I’ve never witnessed anything close to warmth. I suspect Jaden’s impaired state might be to blame for the sudden camaraderie. Maybe I shouldn’t be taking advantage of that, but if Jaden is really ready to open an extra window into the woman I love, no way am I the idiot to turn that down.
“So you’re not in your mother’s and sister’s camp, then?”
A puzzled V forms between his eyebrows. “What do you mean?”
“I figured everyone was Team Arden until circumstances made that path impossible.”
He pulls in a long breath. “I’ve never even met the guy. Not that I’d need to. Full-blooded demons are—” He stops short, cutting a sharp glance to the side where Rerek is chatting quietly with Kara out on the balcony. “Let’s just say they’re not to be screwed around with. I’ve always worried how Kara would manage it. She’s not like Kell and me. She doesn’t play the game.” He lowers his arms, again spreading them across the island. “Okay, she doesn’t play it well. Let’s put it that way. I’m afraid belonging to Arden for any length of time would have changed her forever, and probably not in a good way.”
I swallow hard, hating any vision that includes Kara bound to the scheming incubus. I thank everything holy he never had the chance to call her his own.
“Now with you,” Jaden continues, “I mean, ask anyone. It’s an overused cliché, but she’s practically glowing.”
“Literally or figuratively?”
He chuffs out a laugh. “I’m guessing both, depending on the situation. Seriously, though. I can’t remember any other time, even when we were kids, that she looked truly, totally happy. We don’t run in the same circles, but to be honest, part of my mojo on inviting her tonight was to see if this was all real with you. She’s always donning the party hat and putting on a great show for everyone when it’s necessary, but Kell and I saw through her charade a long time ago. There’s always been something missing about her performance.”
I set aside my drink and lean against the counter. “Something like…real emotion?”
“Bingo. But you already know that.”
Of course I do. Kara’s my most vital treasure, and I’m no stranger to the themes here.
“I do,” I divulge. “I grew up having to shove down most of my real feelings too. Honestly, I simply thought I was fucked up. A freak who’d never be normal.”
I hesitate more on that last part. Now that I’ve been on a couple of field trips with Z and have been educated about the resolve—and ruthlessness—of my real family, I see my mother’s story and all the agonizing decisions she had to make about it through a different lens. In a much brighter light.
“Well, you’re not normal.” Jaden eases the whack of that one by chuckling again. “But you’re also not a freak.”
“Not totally sold on that one yet, but you get an A for effort.”
“Pffft.” He hikes up his hands again. “Save the grades for the students who care, Professor. Trust me, I’m the last guy you want in the front row of your lecture hall.”
I tilt my head, giving him a curious scrutiny. “I figured there was a reason you never graced campus.”
“It’s called the School of Hard Knocks. And I’m majoring in Hollyweird media spin.”
“Veronica must be so proud.”
“Like it or not, there’s an art to it. Spins aren’t spontaneous,” he counters. “Basic physics, right? They need a little jab to get started. And around here, you’re an idiot not to control the media jabs. Control the narrative, my friend. Write your own story.”
His words hit home. Write your own story. Wasn’t that exactly what Dante did during all the political upheavals of his time? Even after being exiled, he didn’t give up on issuing his jabs for social change across Italy. I’m not after such a lofty goal, but the advice makes significant sense. “Control the narrative,” I repeat. “Because if you don’t, someone else will.”
“Huzzah.” Jaden hoists his drink. “Say what you will about my mother, but if you could hear her late at night from the other side of the house working her magic, you might feel differently. Just because she’s learned to play the game better than all of us doesn’t mean she’s not tired or terrified by it. Especially lately…”
He interrupts himself once more, feigning interest in the depths of his cocktail. “Don’t think for one second Kara’s happiness hasn’t come without a price to the whole family.”
I reach for guilt and regret but come up short of anything close to convincing. Finally, I mutter, “I do get it. And for what it’s worth, if I’d known the whole truth about…well, everything…I would have—”
“Done exactly what you did anyway.”
“I would. But I’d also gash out my whole soul for your sister.”
He doesn’t respond verbally but simply extends his glass to clink against mine. It’s a moment of quiet understanding, and I’m glad that under his cavalier and breezy exterior, he seems to care for Kara. Now, partnered with that concern, he can at least know that I care too. Deeply and wholeheartedly.
“The lady has requested a slice of bacon and pineapple pizza.”
The interruption, coming from the entrance closer to the living room, is a double-edged sword. While I’m grateful for Rerek’s intervention, I carefully sidestep him. Now that I know the truth—the likely version of it, anyway—about this chaos creator in glam rock clothes, distance makes more sense by the second.
“And now I might really have to kill you,” Jaden mutters.
“Don’t look at me,” Rerek protests. “Tropical produce was created for cocktail rims, darling, not pizza. Thank you very much.”
Kara ducks in from around the corner. “Did someone say pizza?” At once, her eagerness is the best medicine for my tension. “Clear the way, people. Starving girl incoming. I need some melted cheese and pineapple more than my next breath.”
Jaden finishes off a facepalm with a long, low groan. “Who are you, and what have you done with my sensible sister?”
“Don’t answer that,” Rerek drawls, swirling the tip of his index finger toward a spot over Kara’s shoulder. “Just go out, come back in, and say the exact same thing.” He sweeps his stare around, addressing his smirk at Jaden. “It’s such a treat to watch you get all wound up.”
His statement oozes innuendo but doesn’t faze anyone for a second, least of all Jaden. Clearly he’s used to the thinly disguised flirtations from his friend. Whether they’ve ever been acted on is anyone’s guess but nobody’s business. Right now, my concern is more about the other aspects of Rerek’s nature. The ones he’s likely perfected over decades, if not centuries. The chaos that’s hardwired into his blood and bones.
Kara steps over, inserting herself between the island and me to pick over what’s left of the hors d’oeuvres. “Ugh. Not even some leftover cheese globs.”
Jaden lifts a lazy grin. “Why don’t we toast instead? To my gorgeous sister and the demigod who’s making her happy.”
Kara turns and nestles into my side. We all raise our glasses, only to be halted by another object in the air. Rerek’s commanding hand.
“I believe I can top that one,” he declares, bringing his stare to rest on Kara and me. “Here’s to you adorable daredevils, breaking all the rules in the name of true love.”
“Here’s to breaking the rules, period.” Jaden whoop-whoops with his free hand and guzzles from his glass with the other, se
emingly oblivious to the weird new air in the room.
Kara illustrates her uneasiness with pursed lips and a silent turn-down of the toast. I don’t have the benefit of her unique intuition, but I’ve already had enough of Rerek’s cagey machinations. Something feels too smug about his supposedly celebratory and romantic sentiment. I soothe a hand around the ball of her shoulder, a silent acknowledgment of what we both seem to be picking up on. Something’s not right.
Suddenly Rerek seems to be in on it too. His eyes glitter with mischief, like we’ve both issued a fabulous invitation—except I fear the event is chaos and he’s about to be in his element.
“Is everything all right? Did I say something?” he croons innocently.
My voice is as steady as my stare. “Sounds like you meant that toast as much as you’d mean ‘bon voyage’ to a Titanic passenger.”
Rerek spreads a huge smile. “Ahhh! The ship of dreams but the cruise of nightmares. Fond memories indeed.”
I straighten to collect myself from the casual chat with Jaden and brace myself for something less friendly.
Rerek smiles even wider. “Now, now, Professor. Have I offended you?”
Kara clunks down her drink and locks her arms around my bicep.
“It’s all right, beautiful,” I murmur without deflecting my gaze from Rerek. “We’re all gentlemen here. We’re not going to break the furniture.”
Rerek grimaces. “I love a good mess. But no. Fisticuffs are so barbaric.”
“I’d still be grateful for an elaboration on what you did mean by all of that.”
He shrugs. “I suppose I’m just sentimental. Anyway, I really should mingle. This is my party, after all.” As if his words have emerged as magic light orbs to guide him away, he turns around and strolls back out toward the main party area.
“Rerek?” Jaden calls, clearly just as baffled as we are about this. “What the fuck is he up to now?” In one fluid move, he slides off the counter and follows his friend.
Heart of Fire Page 21