“Fuck you.” I turn and lean against the carved door frame. He stands in the dark hall, and I can’t help but wonder how long he’s been here.
“You know, if she can change your wings pink and make hers disappear, she could probably alter herself to look like a high fae who no one’s ever met before.” He arches a dark eyebrow at me and for a moment, I don’t follow. “She could go alone without any problem, asshole. She doesn’t want to go by herself, but instead of asking you nicely, she’s manipulating you into escorting her because she has no idea how to be a rational fucking person.”
My arms lower, the tension in my shoulders easing as I stare after the nice curve of her ass.
Her hair shakes out around her. Like magic dust clinging to her locks, the shining silver color bleeds until it’s completely black. She clips the leash to the diamond collar like a good little kitten ready for me to handle her just right.
Realization slams into me at once as Ryke and I both watch her with hooded eyes.
She is manipulating me. And I’m letting her.
Fuck me.
13
A Private Party
Aries
It’s been a long time since I’ve been on a date.
Not that taking a stroll through a dark forest on a leash that’s being held by a brooding fucker like Zaviar is my idea of a good time.
But it does feel nice, in a way. It’s intimate to think I’m not alone in this chaos I’ve created. For the moment, anyway.
Staggering, he kicks up dirt as he sways on his feet before righting himself in the shadows.
“Fuck. These tree roots are like massive tangling logs. How much longer before we get to the castle?”
Walking. It’s tedious to him, it seems. I don’t recall him bitching about it every time he walked somewhere for Damien, though.
“Just a bit further,” I tell my charming date sweetly.
“You said that a fuckin’ hour ago, Crow.”
Wow, he is not getting lucky tonight with an attitude like that, let me tell you.
With a roll of my eyes, I lift a massive leaf and step out onto smooth, trimmed grass. My heels sink in and twinkling lights shine down on us from the distance.
The smell of big red roses twists my stomach with too many memories, and I shove every one of them down as I guide Zaviar to the bushes of the garden up ahead.
Dozens of guests file in at the front of the double doors of the castle, but the side entrance is safer. My father’s guard never were too worried about the side entrance when the King’s rooms were all the way in the back.
I notice Zaviar’s gaze lingers on the fat petals of my mother’s deep red roses. He plucks one off and it’s larger than his massive palm. In the slicing moonlight with the sound of a piano singing into the silence, it’s hard not to think he looks like a fairytale come to life. His strong jaw is always so tense. As tense as his wide, bare shoulders. The shadows that dance along his chest are the most alluring darkness I’ve ever laid eyes on.
I truly want to get lost in that darkness.
And I can’t shake the deep look in his eyes as he stares down at the beautiful flower.
What’s he thinking?
“This part of the fae realm is called the Kingdom of Roses,” he whispers.
I step away from the door and come a bit closer to him, trying not to shiver from the cool night breeze skimming along my near-nudity.
“It wasn’t always. Centuries ago, our Kingdom was in ashy shambles because of a hellacious curse my father brought upon himself. It was a dark mess with more demons than fae.”
His pretty shining eyes look up at me. He’s flawless and handsome but he isn’t kind like Damien. It makes me wonder how he’s kept his angelic appearance for so long while Damien’s turns more demonic every day.
“And then my father met my mother. And with a single touch, roses grew everywhere she walked. She was a powerful fae.”
“Was?” he asks with a tilt of his head.
“Her magic depends on her happiness,” I whisper with a near soundless voice.
And she hasn’t been happy with my father since their wedding day.
He got what he wanted. A thriving woman who made fae from all the kingdoms join us just to bask in her and her children’s magic. She was someone the kingdom loved.
Even if he never did.
“Happiness is vital in life,” I tell him, my attention fixed on the hundreds of petals filling his hand. “Happiness breeds prosperity.”
The pale blue of his eyes isn’t glaring when he peers up at me through thick, dark lashes. He steps closer, and it startles me when he slides the flower into my hand, his warmth skimming my skin with a tingling scorch. “You’re the most confusing fucking woman I’ve ever met, Crow,” he whispers, his breath fanning against my breasts with his closeness.
My fingers tighten into the thorns of the stem, and I take a careful step back from the hauntingly beautiful man.
The man who hates me.
“When we get inside, never let me step in front of you. Always lead me. Never ask my permission. Do as you please with your property. But—” I say sharply, “do not fucking smoke me unless I ask. You have to be just outside the castle walls anyway. The castle is protected against demonic magic. And if I ask, do it immediately. Do you understand?” My eyes are wide as I imagine the worst-case scenario in which I’d need him to smoke me as far away as his demon magic will carry us.
With a single step, he crowds that space I put between us. A carving smile pulls his lips to one side.
“You don’t have to worry about me smoking you,” he says oddly. I don’t really know why he says that. Perhaps just like Damien, most of his demon powers are muted with the dark magic Corva is using. “I understand.” He reaches for the door, and when he pulls it open a sliver of an inch, the music that always hangs over Nathiale’s birthday streams out to us. “One question, though.”
I arch a brow at him and wait as he brings the door all the way back and reveals an orgy of a scene.
“Why the sexy underwear, Crow?” he asks, but then his smile drops when his gaze scans over every thrusting body littering the couches, the floors, and the stage against the far wall.
Demons kneel before their handlers, their lips sliding down hard shafts, faces contorted in bliss and ecstasy. Moans and screams of delight accompany the beautiful piano music and for a moment, I consider not answering the obvious.
But I have pity on the innocent fallen angel.
“Because this is a sex party, Faehole.”
Obviously.
My body hums to life with the sound of orgasms and teasing release. I pretend not to see it all, though. I walk through the crowd behind Zaviar like a good little pet demon. A demon with a goal, and not even a sight like this will distract me.
But I have a part to play. And it seems Zaviar is ready for payback for me not revealing all the dirty details of tonight’s itinerary.
“I’m really parched, Pet. Fetch me a Rain Tonic. One cube, not two.” To top that command off, he jerks on my leather leash, and I stumble forward to the drink table he’s idly leaning next to. He stands there between a small table lined with cups and drinks and a navy velvet couch. The gold and cream-colored wall supports his back, and he looks entirely like he fits here.