“You’ve been searching for Ash—or for information on him—for five weeks,” she countered as desperation ballooned in her chest. “This is our first real lead. How will we get into that gala?”
“We’ll come up with something. You can’t think straight if you’re all stressed out.”
“Why aren’t you more stressed out?” she grumbled. “Besides, how am I supposed to stay calm when all I can think about is Ash locked in a dungeon in the Underworld while Samael slowly tortures him to death?”
His shoulders shifted as he exhaled. He unexpectedly looped an arm around her waist and steered her away from the bar.
“What—”
“We both need to work off a little stress. And I know the perfect way.”
She let him lead her until she realized he was heading straight for the packed center of the dance floor. Oh hell no. She dug in her heels but he didn’t even break pace. He just scooped her against his side until her feet barely touched the floor and dragged her.
“Lyre,” she yelled. “Put me down!”
He squeezed his way into the dense crowd and stopped. Half-naked dancers pressed in on all sides. Piper flinched as someone bumped into her back. Lyre pulled her in front of him.
“We’re going to dance,” he told her.
“I don’t dance,” she snarled. The one and only time she’d ever been to a club had been her first visit to the Styx, and she definitely hadn’t done any dancing that time. She danced at home if she had music playing but never in front of anyone. Let alone with someone.
“I do,” he replied, pulling her close.
She stood stiffly, glaring. She would not humiliate herself for his entertainment, especially since she was certain he was an extremely accomplished dancer who would make her pathetic attempts look even worse. On top of that, Lyre was an incubus. Dancing with him was the suggestive equivalent of taking her clothes off.
Apparently, standing still on a dance floor was also an invitation, because a hot body pressed against her back.
“Don’t like your date?” a male voice said in her ear. Rough hands tugged at her waist, trying to pry her away.
She’d already jammed an elbow in the guy’s kidney before privately admitting she was a total hypocrite. She let Lyre touch her like that all the time. Then again, she did also try to hit him a lot. He was just better at dodging.
Lyre pulled her close again. She let him, knowing the alternative was forcing her way back through the writhing crowd alone, which would result in every lone guy pouncing on her. Resigned to suffer embarrassment, she leaned gingerly against him and tried to ignore the way her heart immediately started to pound. His body was warm against her front, muscles flexing teasingly as he settled his hands lightly on her hips and swayed side to side, timing it to every second beat. Giving in to the guiding pressure of his hands, she copied him, swaying her hips. They moved slowly together, an innocent sideways sway at complete odds with the frantic, grinding movements of nearby dancers.
Glancing around, she spotted two girls rubbing against a guy between them, one with her back to his front, the other draped against his back, hands roaming over his bare chest. She swallowed hard as a memory flashed a little too close to the surface: her in a car with Lyre, her legs wrapped around his hips as he kissed her. She bit her lip—hard.
Lyre’s fingers caught her chin and turned her face up to his. He lifted her arms and wound them around his neck.
“You’re not trying, Piper. I know you can do better. This is for relaxation purposes only, remember?” He brought his mouth to ear. “Trust me, would you?”
The song changed, morphing into something with a slow, driving beat. It thumped through her like a slowly pounding heart. Lyre pulled her tighter to him and this time, she let herself melt into him, pressing against his chest. His hands slid down, curling over her hips and pulling them against his as he swayed side to side again. She rested her cheek on his shoulder, closing her eyes as she rocked to the beat.
Lyre began turning them in a slow circle without breaking the smooth flow of their dance. Side to side, bodies moving in unison as the music pulsed through them, the beat intense. She found herself pressing tighter against him, his heat, that delicious spicy cherry scent of his. His hands glided slowly up her back, sending tingles running along her spine. He ran his hands down to the small of her back, then pulled her sharply against him as the song reached its crescendo. She gasped.
The beat dove back in, faster, more urgent. Lyre shifted seamlessly to slide one leg between hers. Her eyes flew open as his hands moved to her rear and pulled her hard against his thigh. He swayed forward and back, pulling her with him in that erotic grinding motion the other dancers were lost in. She clutched his shoulders and gave in to the titillating pleasure, the driving music, the teasing thrill.
They moved together, effortlessly matching the beat as it sped up. She let her head fall backward, breathing fast, knees weak. He moved so perfectly, so sensually, his hands guiding her against his body. She could have danced with him until the world ended without a care about anything but the amazing feeling of him against her.
Then ice-cold liquid splashed against her back.
She shrieked and jerked around. A guy stood behind her, leering from behind his black mask with a tall glass in his hand. It was empty except for a frothy white cream clinging to the inside. The rest of the drink was soaking into the back of her shirt and skirt.
“Oops,” he mouthed over the music. He grinned nastily. She realized it was the same guy she’d elbowed. He’d gone to the bar, bought a drink, and carried it back to the dance floor for the sole purpose of dumping it on her. Seriously?
The guy opened his mouth to say something else but Lyre stepped around her and smashed his fist into the guy’s jaw. Dancers screamed, leaping out of the way as the guy went down.
Lyre passed a dismissive glance over the weakly stirring jerk, then took Piper’s hand and led her away as a pair of bouncers shoved their way over. She cringed as her dripping skirt slapped against the backs of her bare thighs with each step. Ugh. And it stank too—alcohol and sickly sweet, creamy something.
Lilith waited for them beside the bar as they walked up. Piper grabbed a handful of her skirt and tried to wring it out. The frothy cream had left a blatant white stain all down her back.
Eyebrows shooting up at Piper’s dripping clothes, the succubus gestured for them to follow. Great end to the night. She should’ve known she couldn’t make it through a visit to the Styx without something sucky happening.
Lilith led them back to the sitting room and had Lyre wait there. Down another hall was a huge dressing room full of scanty, sequined clothes and fetish costumes. The dancers’ change room? She followed Lilith to a rack with slightly less flashy clothing and waited silently while the succubus picked out a tight, white t-shirt and a really mini miniskirt. It was bright pink.
She handed the clothes to Piper. “There’s a bathroom with a shower at the back of the room.”
Piper looked at the offered clothing and back at Lilith.
“I’m not giving you anything else. Take it or leave it.”
Sighing, she accepted the awful outfit. Maybe she could clean her own clothes well enough to wear them home. She flinched at the thought of the return motorcycle ride while wet.
Lilith pulled a small silver pendant out of her pocket. “Know that I expect this back immediately after the gala. It’s nearly priceless.”
“What is it?”
“A truth detector, crafted by the Ra family. But like their inherent ability, it isn’t foolproof.”
Piper nodded. She’d seen that particular Ra skill at work and knew it wasn’t infallible. She and Ash had both deceived Miysis, evading the truth he’d sought by offering a different, yet honest, testimonial.
“It detects falsehoods as the speaker perceives them.” Lilith swung the pendant from its chain. “That presents two problems. One: if Micah repeats a lie that he believes is true, yo
u won’t be able to tell the difference. Two: He can lie to you with truthful statements. He could easily mislead you with nothing but the truth. The detector works best if no one knows you have it.”
Piper nodded again as she accepted the pendant. “How do I use it?”
“Wear it against your skin and concentrate on the speaker. The pendant will turn hot when the speaker lies. It requires significant concentration. It won’t work unless you’re entirely focused on what the person is saying.”
Tucking the clothing under one arm, Piper clasped the chain around her neck and settled the cool, silver pendant against her chest. “I’ll make sure to return it to you as soon as I’ve questioned Micah.”
Lilith nodded. “I have business to attend to. Lyre knows the way out.” She hesitated. “Good luck.”
Piper touched her fingers to the pendent, watching Lilith saunter away. For her to loan Piper the pendant, even with a future favor in the balance, suggested the succubus cared about Ash. Shrugging, Piper headed for the back of the room and found the bathroom and a towel. As she pulled the heavy curtain across the opening of the shower, a dark shape darted in.
“Zwi, where’ve you been?”
Zwi blinked at her and chattered in a friendly sort of way. She fluffed her mane, then sniffed at Piper and wrinkled her nose.
Piper wrinkled her nose too, then shrugged. “We might have a good lead but I don’t know how the hell I’ll get into the gala to talk to Micah. Maybe you can lure him out or something?”
Zwi cocked her head, tail flicking side to side.
Piper sighed and stripped off her clothes. As she wet one end of the towel and cleaned the sticky drink off her skin, she couldn’t stop her thoughts from returning to Lyre. He had such an unholy talent for sparking her desire. He made her crave him—and he knew he was doing it too. He was an incubus and they simply could not help themselves. Lyre was attracted to her; therefore, he wanted to sleep with her. There was no moral leash for an incubus. I saw, I wanted, I seduced. That’s just the way they were.
Lyre had never suggested that he loved her or that she meant more to him than a friend. He wouldn’t deceive her into believing he felt anything other than lust. He cared about her, but he also had strong instincts rooted in his daemon caste. She knew that—so why did she have to splash cold water on her face to stop from inviting him into the shower with her?
Then again, was it so wrong? If she and Lyre both knew there was nothing more to it than mutual enjoyment, would it be so bad to indulge in intimacy?
She turned the cold water up and splashed it down her front, gasping at the shock. Yes, it was still a bad idea. Involvement with daemons was against the rules for a Consul—which was what she planned to be sooner or later. And even without that restriction, it was still a bad idea. No matter how many times she told herself it would just be a friends-with-benefits thing, she knew she would get hurt in the end. Lyre was a deadly combination of charming and genuinely caring. She already had to exercise a lot of self-control to keep her heart out of their friendship. If the physical boundaries between them blurred any further . . .
Inevitably, another face filled her mind’s eye. Ash’s soul-searing stare flashed from gray-eyed and intent to ebony eyes that sent chills down her spine. She couldn’t get the adorably bewildered expression she’d last seen on his face out of her head. She couldn’t forget the single, earth-shattering kiss they’d shared on her first visit to the Styx. She couldn’t stop turning him over in her mind like some mysterious puzzle box she couldn’t quite figure out but knew held something amazing if she could only solve it.
She heaved a sigh and toweled off. It would take some serious scrubbing to clean her clothes but she’d be damned if she went without underwear. Wringing out the water as best she could, she put her clammy-cold bra and panties back on. The stupid pink skirt would—hopefully—cover the black underwear, but there was no way her bra wouldn’t show through the white shirt. Stupid Lilith.
As she reached for the skirt, Zwi let out a sudden, fierce growl. Piper followed the dragonet’s eye line—and her eyes went wide.
A second dragonet clung to the shower curtain rod, staring at her with pale yellow eyes.
CHAPTER 3
“W-WHAT?” she gasped.
The second dragonet flared its dark wings, baring its teeth at Zwi. It was noticeably bulkier—a male? Zwi snarled viciously, a clear warning, as she spread her wings to look as large as possible. Piper stared between the two, eyes popping. Where on earth had the second dragonet come from? Did Ash have two?
With a barking sound, the male dragonet spun around and jumped off the shower rod, vanishing on the other side of the curtain. Zwi shrieked angrily and dove under the curtain to chase after it. Piper grabbed the towel, pulled it around her torso, and shoved the curtain aside to rush after the two creatures. She got exactly as far as one step.
Five people stood in a semi-circle directly in front of her, blocking any escape.
One glance told Piper she was in deep trouble. This was not a friendly group of drunken dancers who’d accidently wandered into the back room.
No, all five of them were daemons.
The two women and two of the men wore matching black fatigues that covered them from their boots to their necks. They had assorted weapons strapped to them, from guns to swords. The men had buzz cuts and the women wore their hair in tight buns. Everything about them said they meant business.
The fifth man stood directly across from Piper, feet set shoulder-width apart, arms folded as he waited. He wore similar black fatigues but his shirt was sleeveless, leaving his muscular arms bare. Leather armguards, each with half a dozen throwing knives sheathed in it, covered his forearms. He had more weapons on him than any of the others. Black material was wrapped around his lower face and neck, revealing only his eyes: pale blue and scorching in their intensity. A thick white scar ran down one side of his face and vanished under the wrap. Two fainter scars marked his other cheekbone.
Piper slowly licked her lips. Fear slid through her, growing with each passing second. Zwi crouched at her feet, growling softly.
The middle man . . . his wavy hair was an impossible shade of iridescent red. Brighter than Ash’s dark locks but a distinctly similar shade. Was it possible . . .?
With a deep-pitched trill, the male dragonet swooped in and landed on the man’s shoulder. Piper swallowed hard. Yes, it was possible. The man in front of her was a draconian.
She stole a quick glance at the other four. They definitely weren’t draconian but she couldn’t tell what castes they were. The draconian was obviously their leader—and for good reason. He was probably the most powerful daemon in the city, possibly the entire county.
The dragonet chattered in his master’s ear. The draconian shifted his stare from Piper to Zwi. He appraised the dragonet before focusing on Piper again. She pulled the towel tighter around her body and gritted her teeth.
“That dragonet is not yours.” His words were soft, inflectionless. She shuddered; like Ash, his voice went down to her bones, but this draconian’s voice rubbed her completely the wrong way.
She swallowed to get some moisture in her mouth. Her heart pounded madly. “I’m taking care of her. For a friend.”
“You can’t meet a dragonet’s needs. Only a draconian can.”
“Like you?” she snapped.
“Yes,” he agreed tonelessly. “Without a bond, she’ll eventually die.”
“It’s only temporary,” she said defensively, inching backward toward the shower stall where the hidden knives in her boots waited.
The draconian was silent for a moment. “I don’t think it is.”
She blinked, confused, but he continued before she could speak.
“My master desires your assistance with a small matter. You will accompany us.”
“Your master?” she repeated blankly. Then it hit her: this daemon was a draconian. And according to Lilith, only one person controlled draconians, sending th
em out on missions and making sure they didn’t live long enough to get rebellious. This draconian looked to be somewhere between twenty-three and twenty-five—a very hard-lived twenty-something.
“You mean . . . Samael?” she whispered. Horror choked her. No. She hadn’t expected it so soon. This was too soon.
The draconian’s expression didn’t shift in the slightest. Without uncrossing his arms, he flicked one hand. The two female daemons stepped forward in unison.
“Wait!” she cried. “I—I—Can I put my clothes on first? Please?” She clutched pathetically at her towel.
The draconian hesitated, then nodded. “Be quick.”
The women stepped back. They knew Piper wasn’t going anywhere. Breathing fast, sick with terror, she scuttled backward and snapped the curtain closed. Hidden from their view, she dropped to her knees and pulled the two knives from her boots. Oh God. What would she do? They were going to take her to Samael. She’d known the head of the Hades family would eventually hunt her down but she’d thought it would have taken him longer.
She had a secret, one she’d kept from everyone—from her father and uncle, and even from Ash and Lyre. Five weeks ago, when Samael’s harpies had captured her and tried to steal the Sahar, something had happened. Something that still gave her nightmares.
Somehow, Piper had tapped the Sahar’s power. She hadn’t done it on purpose. She didn’t even know what she’d done. One moment she’d been about to punch a harpy in the face with the Stone in her fist. The next moment, the Sahar had flashed with light, turning white-hot in her hand—and every harpy in front of her had been blasted apart with such force that gore had misted the air pink.
A single harpy had survived the blast, then stolen the Stone from Piper and let her to fall to her supposed death. No one but that one harpy knew the truth: Piper was the first person in living memory to successfully harness the Sahar.
That harpy must have told Samael. And now Samael wanted her.