Had he turned her on as spectacularly as the husband used to do?
Jealousy struck, as vicious as a demon. Every festering wound hidden inside Thane suddenly stung as though doused in acid.
I can relocate her, Bjorn said. Your torment will end and she will--
No, he shouted, baffled by his vehemence. More gently, he added, No. She stays at the club. He wanted her within reach. Protected and...coddled.
Had they been in their suite, his boys would have regarded him oddly, he knew. He wasn't the type to fight to keep a female around.
Let me find you someone else, Xerxes requested.
I wish it were that simple. Now that he'd tasted Elin's sweetness, the thought of other women actually repulsed him.
Bjorn brushed the tip of his wing over Thane's. A woman is a woman is a woman. Close your eyes, and they're all the same.
A callous assertion--one he would have concurred with in the past. But now? Now he knew differently. Elin has something other women do not.
Both males were intrigued.
And that is? Xerxes asked.
Thane smiled without humor. My trust.
Their destination loomed ahead, effectively ending the conversation. Good. He studied the building. The base was five stories tall, and the steel tower above it forty-two. He swooped low, bypassed the walls and entered the atrium. There were two guards behind the reception desk. A man with a briefcase strutted out the doors. A female click-clacked over the tiled floor and entered the glass elevators. As the cart lifted, it ran through a waterfall.
Pretty, but not what caught his attention. In a spirit realm the humans could not see, a horde of viha, envexa, and pica stalked the lobby. Demons of anger, envy and unforgiveness. None of them were one of the six who'd slain Germanus; they weren't powerful enough. But they might belong to one of the six.
Twelve demons in total, ranging in sizes and shapes. Two were over six feet tall, but most were stooped over, gorilla-like, using both hands and feet to move forward. A few had horns--ivory towers, they were sometimes called--protruding from their scalps. A few had black, gnarled wings stretching from their backs. Some were covered in a mix of fur and scales. Some had antlers growing from shoulders and spine.
So ugly. Soon, so dead.
A battle of blood and bone was exactly what Thane needed to improve his mood. Grinning coldly, he held out his hand and summoned his sword of fire. Bjorn and Xerxes did the same.
One of the demons noticed the intruding Sent Ones and laughed. Not a typical reaction. The others stopped what they were doing and searched the lobby for the reason for the amusement. More laughter rang out before clawed footsteps echoed, the creatures racing away.
"Laughter," Xerxes said through clenched teeth, as befuddled as Thane.
"No time to give chase and interrogate. We'll have to catch them on our way out." Thane flared his wings and flew up, up, up the many stories, taking note of the types of demons on each floor. Para and grzech here. Fear and sickness. Slecht there. Maliciousness. More viha, envexa and pica.
The higher up the building, the more powerful the demons became, until Thane was certain he was seeing what the creatures of the ever-dark referred to as their "high lords." These supposed lords were only one position below the princes, the most powerful of all.
For demons, a prince was the equivalent of what a member of the Elite Seven was to a Sent One. Like Zacharel.
Thane had never fought one. He and his boys were the equivalent of a high lord, and as it was, he'd battled only a handful of those.
He stood in front of the bank of elevators and swept his gaze through Mr. Rathbone's lobby. Spacious, screaming with wealth. Several of Monet's best hung on the walls. Crystal vases perched on metal tables. A white leather couch formed a C in the far corner. Bloodred carpet draped the rosewood flooring. There were no prowling demons up here. Why?
He forced his robe to conform to his body and separate into different pieces. When the fabric darkened, he was wearing an exquisitely tailored pin-striped suit. He stepped into the natural realm. In the spirit realm, Bjorn and Xerxes remained at his side, unseen to the untrained eye.
A young, pretty receptionist tore her gaze from the document she was pretending to type, while wiping her watery eyes and nose--she'd been crying--and faced him. Her jaw dropped. "Um...uh, hi. I mean, hello, and welcome to Rathbone Industries."
"I will see Mr. Rathbone now." His tone left no room for argument.
She gulped. "Do you have an appointment, Mr....?"
Wasting time. He stalked away from her without another word.
She called out a frantic, "Stop. Please."
He snaked the far corner and entered a hallway that led into several different conference rooms. He could go left or right. Left offered more doors. The right dead-ended at a large corner office with frosted glass walls. That one. Evil pricked at the back of his neck.
He opened the door.
A male, no more than twenty-five, sat at an ornate cherrywood desk. He had dark hair, every strand in place, and slate-gray eyes. His skin was deeply tanned. His elbows were propped on the desk, his fingers drumming together as he waited. He'd known Sent Ones had arrived.
"I've been expecting you," he said with an elegant wave to indicate the chairs. "Please, sit."
Thane's first thought: not possessed, but influenced.
Demons possessed humans by entering their bodies and controlling their minds from within. A human was influenced if a demon attached itself to his side, whispering into his ear to direct decisions. And right now a demon stood behind Mr. Rathbone's chair. A demon unlike any Thane had ever seen. Seven feet tall, at least, with skin that rivaled the brilliance of the world's most perfect diamond. A fall of white hair reached his waist.
Though Thane had never seen such a creature, he knew what it was.
Zacharel, he projected to his leader. I believe we found one of the demons responsible for our king's death. But there's a problem. He's a prince.
Leave. Now, came the immediate, panicked reply. I'm gathering the Elite Seven.
Thane had counted over two hundred demons in the building.
The odds were not in their favor.
Leave? We need answers, Thane said.
We need you alive, Zacharel snapped.
Very well. He would leave...soon.
He wasn't afraid. He wasn't intimidated. He was eager.
The demon stroked long, lean fingers through the human's dark hair, and the human smiled slowly, coldly. "Took you long enough to find me. I worried no matter how many clues I left you, you would fail."
The demon's mouth never moved, but those had been his words. So. The human wasn't merely influenced, but controlled. How? When the demon still lived outside his body?
A talent of all princes?
"Don't pretend you wanted to be found," Bjorn said, not needing to enter the natural realm to be seen by the demon. "Kind of defeats the purpose of hiding out, don't you think?"
No reaction from the prince.
But the human said, "I left clues because I was curious to know the warriors who would be sent to capture me. Now I know. I've seen. And you've seen. A new battle can begin. But, Sent Ones...you are wrong. So very wrong. You think I've been hiding, but the truth is, I've been amassing an army."
"Demons lie," Xerxes snapped.
Sometimes, though, they added a bit of truth to their lies, to make it harder to find the light in the dark.
"Yes," the human continued. "We do, but even we are capable of the occasional truth."
"Truth you use to mislead."
"Believe me...or not. I hardly care."
"Then why don't you skip ahead and tell us why you're here?" Bjorn said.
An easy nod. "Too long you have policed the skies and the land, as if you own them. No longer. My kind is taking back its world, and its people."
If the demons took over, chaos and death would reign.
"Is that why you killed Germanus?" Thane demanded. "To start
a new war? To take what you think is yours?"
This time, the human remained quiet.
This time, the demon smiled slowly. "No. We killed your Germanus for fun."
The voice was all kinds of evil. Dark and twisted, a thousand screams hidden in the words--in the lie. With demons, there was always a purpose.
Then the prince and human vanished.
The prince had flashed, Thane realized, taking the human with him. An ability he and his boys did not possess.
A second later, the entire building began to shake.
It was the only warning they had--before the entire structure collapsed around them.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
ELIN MARVELED. "It's...it's..." Almost as cool as finding the chocolates, novels and roses in her room this morning. And Thane's note...oh, sweet fancy, his note.
Last night, the man had kicked her out of his room. And yet, the very next day he'd sent her a note that said, You are my good. What was up with him? Did he like her or not?
Either way, she wanted it to stop...never stop...but, oh, every time he did something nice for her, she fell a little deeper under his spell...and her fear of discovery intensified.
"Dude," Bellorie said. "You're gawking, and it's taking attention away from me. In case you haven't figured it out, attention is my crack."
"News flash. I figured that out at meeting one. But we're in the clouds, and it's like Rodeo Drive meets the Middle Ages, and I'm a little overwhelmed."
The sun shone brightly, but it wasn't too hot. The sky was a clear baby-blue, such a tranquil shade. Winged men, women and creatures flew this way and that. Along the cobbled streets, immortals of every race manned booths, hawking their wares, while a plethora of potential buyers ambled past.
"Upper Class Immortal 101, by Professor Hotcakes," Bellorie said. "There are three different levels in the heavens. Thane's club is perched at the edge of the third, the lowest, which is known for its hedonism. We are now a mile from the Downfall, at an outdoor shopping center with vendors selling everything from waffles-on-a-stick to rides on the backs of enslaved...whatever, take your pick. Clothes optional. You can have anything if the price is right."
The other girls had shopped yesterday, as planned, but the Harpy had waited for Elin to return from her "errand" for Thane.
Her lips burned as she remembered the kiss. Her breasts ached. Her skin tingled. Carnal heat pooled between her legs.
Even though they'd put an end to things--hadn't they? That note... She craved him more than ever.
Why hadn't he sought her out to talk about things?
"So, where do you want to start?" Bellorie asked.
Elin pulled her mind out of the depressing gutter. "Clothes. That's where I want to start and finish." No reason to spend her precious money on anything else. Except maybe that door handle. It was shaped and colored like in a human hand. Tres cool. The bedroom she shared with the girls could use a little of her personality.
But what if it really was a human hand? Avoid the knob!
"Excellent choice." Bellorie nodded. "I'm eager to see you out of the classic hobo style you arrived in." She led Elin down the street, shouldering people out of the way without preamble.
The air thickened with perfumes and desserts and...meat pies? Her mouth watered.
"Changed my mind," Elin said, clutching her rumbling stomach. "Let's start and end with food. Clothes can have the middle."
"Very well. But we gotta get you loaded with cash first."
After selling one of her necklaces, she consumed three meat pies, which were better than anything she'd ever tasted, except Thane, then two chocolate cupcakes and four peanut butter scones--better than even Thane. Maybe.
"Where do you put it?" Bellorie asked, gaze raking over her minimal curves.
"I guess we'll find out." She hadn't eaten like that in...ever.
"By the way. What you're currently tasting? That's real food. Whatever you're making at the club is...not."
Hey! "I'm getting better."
"Bonka Donk, you're getting worse. This morning's brownies can be used in our next dodge-boulder game."
Elin sighed. Baking wasn't as much fun as she remembered. Maybe it was time to reevaluate her life goals.
What madness is this? Bay had dreamed of opening a bakery, and now she was going to kill it the way the Phoenix had killed him? No! She had to do it, in his memory. His honor.
Especially since she had already betrayed him with Thane.
Despair danced at the edge of her mind, but she pulled a Bellorie and gave it the finger. This day would not be spoiled!
With Bellorie at her side, she talked and laughed as she spent the rest of her "go wild" money on a new wardrobe. She bought a couple of pairs of jeans, a pair of leather pants--what?--a dozen pretty tops, a few summer dresses, workout tanks and shorts, lingerie, pajamas, boots, tennis shoes, high heels and a robe.
"Everything will be delivered to the club by the end of the day," Bellorie had told her earlier.
She had protested. "No, I--" Or rather, she'd tried to protest.
"Can't carry it, you don't have the biceps," the girl had interjected. "And I'm not going to help because I need my pimp-hands free."
But she hated the thought of letting the prized items out of her sight, even for a few hours. Mine, all mine.
"Come on," Bellorie said now, tugging her from Vladmir's Closet. "Axel told me he has a booth today, and I don't want to miss him."
"Axel?"
"You met him last night, at Thane's table. Dark hair, piercing blue eyes."
Most Beautiful, the male she'd threatened with arsenic. Great.
His booth was at the end of the street, white scarves acting as walls and dancing in a gentle breeze. He offered no clothes, no foods, no jewels or furniture. He sat in the center of the empty stall, leaning back in a chair, his hands folded over his middle, his legs outstretched, his wings spread.
He grinned when he spotted them, his entire face lighting up and, somehow, making him more beautiful. "Well, well. If it isn't my favorite Harpy and Thane's favorite human. We weren't properly introduced, lovely. You're Elin. I'm Axel. And, don't worry. I know how this works. I tell you my name, and you say nothing--because you've fainted." He paused for several dramatic seconds, waiting.
She fought the urge to roll her eyes.
His grin grew wider. "So how'd it go last night with Mr. Won'tsharemytoys?"
I am a strong, confident woman and I won't blush. "What are you selling?" she asked, ignoring his question.
"Blow jobs," he replied without missing a beat, and she blinked in surprise.
Bellorie didn't fight her urge--she did roll her eyes. "What he means is, he's willing to let women suck him off if they pay him with new and exciting weaponry."
"And there isn't a line?" Elin asked drily.
Unoffended, he patted his lap. "Take a seat and I'll show you why I'm offering such an exceptional deal."
The wicked gleam in his eyes... Yeah, she'd been right to view him as a candidate. He clearly knew his way around a female body. But only one man tempted her to plow full steam ahead, and Axel wasn't him. "No, thanks."
He shrugged, not even a little bit disappointed. "Your loss."
"So, the reason we're here..." Bellorie prompted. "You wanted information about William the Ever Randy, aka the Panty Melter, and I heard something last night. A Fae came into the bar, said William's daughter, some girl named White, was murdered in his realm by a Phoenix named Petra."
Petra. Kendra's aunt. According to gossip at the bar, the girl was dead. Like, never-coming-back dead. Someone must have eaten her heart--which meant she'd actually had one. Surprise, surprise.
Axel jolted upright, the teasing light extinguished from his eyes. "I knew that. But what else did you hear?"
"William the Panty Melter and his sons, Red, Green and Black, disappeared immediately afterward. William was later seen with the Lords of the Underworld, but the boys haven't been seen
or heard from since."
Elin had no idea what they were talking about, and strolled to the booth to the left. Her gaze traced over the items for sale--jewelry--only to land on a big, strong Sent One. Merrick, she realized, the lead singer of Shame Spiral. Dark hair shagged around a face that had to be the epitome of beauty. Long, dark lashes shadowed eyes of the most luminous silver.
His only imperfection was the big bruise marring his jaw. He must have been in a fight.
Perfect. He was a brawler. He could be a candidate again, since Thane might have gone from hot-and-cold to permanently cold.
Forgetting the note?
No. Still just majorly confused about it.
Merrick grinned when he spotted her, the slow bloom of welcome unbelievably sexy. "I do remember you," he said, confusing her. He closed in on her. "You're the human, and I did not sleep with you."
"Uh. Correct." He smelled good. Like, really good. Dark, romantic and spicy, as if he'd just stepped out of Arabian Nights. But for some reason he did nothing for her hormones.
"I never realized Thane was the possessive type."
"I don't understand," she replied, her heart rate increasing at the sound of his name.
Merrick's grin widened. "He warned me away."
"From what?"
"You."
"Me?" She thumped her chest to make sure they were talking about the same "you."
"I don't know what gave him the impression I planned to make a move--"
Her moan stopped him. She did. She knew. She'd mentioned Merrick's name to Thane.
Merrick's eyes twinkled. "But you do, I see."
"Yes, and I'm sorry. So sorry. What did he do to you?" And why am I aroused by the thought that Thane went fists of thunder on another guy?
"Merrick," a whining female voice called before Elin could finish her reply. "I miss you already."
Merrick took Elin's hand, his eyes gleaming with amusement as he kissed her knuckles. "Make Thane beg you for it. The hardest battles have the sweetest victories." Then he was off.
His words, though seemingly delivered with an ulterior motive--that amusement did not bode well--haunted her long after. Make Thane beg for her? Yes, please. No. Bad Elin. But...she wanted to be a prize worth winning.
Make up your mind already! You want him, you don't, you want him again.
In an effort to distract herself, she walked to the next booth. Thousands of pelts greeted her. Some were from animals she recognized...some she didn't.