“You don’t waste any time,” Father says.
Ugh, no. Don’t talk to her. Go away, go away.
“There’s more!” Anna flings an arm behind her to point at the fridge. “I didn’t drink it all. Want some?”
Shite, Anna, shut up!
“I’ll pass,” Father says. He’s got an impish grin on his face. “But I think you should have another.”
No, you giant knob, she should not. Damn, how long until this begins to burn off her? I feel like we’ve been standing here forever. Anna drops to the floor in front of the fridge, her shorts riding up her thighs and showing a sliver of bum crack. Father most definitely notices, making a lewd gesture, and I want to take him down.
Astaroth gets bored and leaves. I’m so itchy a hive of bees covers my skin. It is killing me to stand here. I move to the entertainment center, mere feet from where Anna crouches, and I lean against it, crossing my arms.
“They need more tequila in these minibar fridge thingamajigs,” Anna says. She sits up with a bottle in her hand and I nearly drop-kick it from her fingers.
Father looks at me with absolute mirth.
“I told you,” I spit. “She’s a lush. An idiot. I can’t believe you’d think there was a bond between us.”
Please, Anna, do not say anything. Stay quiet. Tear through the sweets in the fridge. Pass out. Do anything except drink or talk.
“Eh, you can’t really blame me for wondering when you wouldn’t even screw the stewardess today. You’re usually all about cougars.” Shite . . .
“Eww!” Anna squeals, stuffing her hands over her ears.
“See,” I mutter. “Completely immature.”
She twists open the bottle of gin, and I can’t keep my mouth shut.
“You’re trashed. You don’t need any more.”
“Oh, shaddup,” she says. I dart forward, but she pulls the bottle to her chest and throws back a sip, wagging her other pointer finger in the air. Where are my handcuffs?
“No touchie the drinkie. That’s bad, bad, bad. Why’re you bein’ so grumpy, anyways? We’re in Vegas, baby!” She stands awkwardly, grabbing the fridge and laughing. She jumps and puts her arms up, splashing a bit of gin. I would probably be laughing my arse off if this were any other time. But now?
Not amused. Any moment it’s going to begin wearing off. Any moment now would be brilliant. Until then, I must try to talk some sense into her. Father is watching with far too much interest.
“You are being obnoxious,” I tell her. “It’s bad enough I have to babysit. I’m not holding your bloody hair if you puke.”
She laughs and saunters toward me, wobbly, poking my chest. “Isss funny to annoy you. You’re, like, sooo hot when you get mad.”
Father moves into our space, sandwiching Anna between us and putting his mouth to her ear. “I’d watch it, if I were you. He can get pretty rough when he’s upset.”
I’m about to get rough with him if he doesn’t take his bleedin’ hand off her waist. I have a sick, awful feeling that Father would not be above the idea of trying to punish her before the summit in his own wicked ways.
Anna spins and pushes off our chests, moving to the middle of the room and looking around, bleary-eyed. “Whurs the music?”
Father, who does not like being pushed away, is now staring at her with menace. He moves to her and grabs her arms, shaking her. “Where’s the sword?”
“I ain’t got no swooord, crazy ass,” she says in a heavy drawl. She thinks he’s being cheeky.
“Don’t talk to him like that,” I say, moving toward them. I couldn’t care less that she’s disrespected him, but I don’t want her to make him angry.
Father chuckles without humor. “We’ll see, little girl.”
“Yeah, we will!” She smiles, then flops down on the couch and gets a goofy look. “What the heck are we even talkin’ ’bout? I thought we were gonna dance.”
She rolls off the couch and crawls toward the minibar. Father claps a hand on my shoulder and cocks his head toward Anna. The stare he gives her is full of loathing. “Yeah, good luck with that. And be careful. I wouldn’t put it past her to use your lust inclination as a distraction to escape. Don’t let her get the upper hand, you know what I’m saying?” He winks wickedly and I nod. “Don’t leave the room, and don’t let her out of your sight.”
“Yes, sir.”
Just leave!
He puts his mouth too close to my ear and whispers. “She thinks she’s cute. She thinks she can pull one over on you. Don’t trust her. Don’t even get near her, if you can help it.” I give a tight nod.
Anna loudly cracks open a bottle of beer and I give her my harshest glare. She flicks the cap at me and I smack it away.
“Shame to waste such a fine body on her,” he murmurs to me.
I grit my teeth.
Father pokes fun at the drunk girl a bit longer, amused by her cluelessness, and then he finally leaves. I flick him off with both hands when the door closes, bloody glad he’s gone and that things didn’t escalate further. We’re unbelievably lucky. I lean back against the entertainment center and cross my arms. Now I just have to get Anna sobered up and . . .
Why is she staring at me like that?
She licks her lips and gives me the classic “come hither” look. But that would be bad. Very bad right now. I shake my head. My hearing is out the door, and Pharzuph whistles as he enters the elevator.
Anna sets down her beer and stands. She’s still obviously inebriated, but she’s not falling over anymore. She’s just sloe-eyed and sexy, and I have to keep shaking my head. But she’s coming my way, and I feel the stirring. My head fills with fog, and my gut aches with a deep throb.
Anna presses her entire body to mine, and her hands are on my waist. My teeth clamp together. I grasp her shoulders and push her away as gently and quietly as I can, but she is unrelenting. I shake my head, feeling weakened by the emotion of the afternoon. Father is off the elevator now, walking, saying hello to people, flirting with strangers.
Anna’s hands roam over my chest, and down. I grab her hands but she yanks them away and says, “Don’t.”
Uuuugh, little vixen, do not do this to me. Don’t touch. Don’t speak. Just . . . I cover her mouth.
“Shut up,” I say in a low voice.
She goes still. Her eyes are on me, and they are sweltering, her lids dipping low. Come to think of it, I should probably cover her eyes, too. I should put her to bed and tuck her in tightly. All by herself. Fully clothed. Until she’s ready to behave again.
Sounds of the casino ring out in my extended hearing.
“You look familiar,” I hear Father say. “Are you an actress?”
A feminine giggle. “Nope.”
“Come on, with a face like that . . .”
Anna gently peels my hand from her mouth. She kisses my palm, and it’s so simple and sensual that I’m suddenly fighting for normal breath.
“I’ll buy you a drink,” Father says smoothly.
Anna kisses her way up my middle finger. I step back, but she’s still holding my hand, and she runs her tongue across my fingertip.
“Ah, damn it,” I whisper, yanking my hand away. She’s killing me. She’s going to kill us.
“Please . . .” She pulls her hair tie out, releasing her blond hair about her shoulders, those eyes still melting into me, begging me. It is nearly too much.
My ears fill with laughter from Father and the woman downstairs. I have no idea if he’s listening. He seems fully focused on his prey, but I don’t trust him. He clearly warned me against Anna.
“I will tie you up again if you don’t behave,” I warn Anna.
Her eyes narrow wickedly. “Oh, you’d like that, wouldn’t you?”
Anna Whitt just got sassy with me. And that is my breaking point.
The beast is alive, warnings be damned.
I grab her waist and turn her, pressing her back into the entertainment center so that I have leverage to press hard agai
nst her. The entire thing clatters madly. Her arms and hands are everywhere, clinging, digging, pulling. I kiss her hard, wanting to own all of her—every alcohol-laced breath of air that escapes her mouth—I want it all. We grope as we move to the couch.
Multiple footsteps are moving quickly down the hall.
I am on top of her, between her legs, realizing I should have ripped those shorts off before getting her this far. But I can’t stop moving; her body feels so good against mine, her kisses and moans a delicacy.
“Sounds like the daughter of Belial is drunk again,” comes Blake’s voice down the hall.
“Shocker,” snaps Ginger.
“We’re about to have company,” I say, devouring the soft skin at her neck. I push my hand up her shirt, feeling her silky skin, and let my thumb rub under her bra. She gasps and undulates beneath me.
Banging echoes through the room. “Oi!” Ginger shouts. “Open the damn door.”
“I’m busy.” I nip Anna’s bottom lip. The other Neph can lay off.
“The more the merrier,” Blake says.
I look at Anna and she shakes her head. Her eyes are still heavily lidded. “Just ignore them.” She grabs the bottom of my shirt and pulls it up, forcing me up, and she kisses a path across my pecs. Oh, yes.
I smash her into the couch with another blazing kiss.
“Don’t let that skank take advantage of you when you’re bored, son of Pharzuph.”
Anna tries to push her way up, shouting, “Who you callin’ a skank, you—”
Oh, hell. I quickly cover her mouth and she struggles to get free. I wish they’d just bloody go away. Just one more time together before this godforsaken night begins. I can make it seem like an act of sheer lust. . . .
“Open up.” Kopano’s voice is like a solid thing that rolls into the room and stares at us. I reel back and jump to my feet. Anna is still lying there, as if waiting for me to come back and take care of her. I turn away and press my forehead against the entertainment center.
I cannot answer the door just yet. I give the others a guttural whisper. “Hold on a moment.”
Once I calm down, I walk to the door and let them in. Their faces are disappointed and angry. One look at my eyes and Marna softens. Kope just nods and brushes past. Blake bumps my shoulder and I move aside.
I feel like an ass. This is too big, too important to mess around about. I trudge into the sitting area, where Anna has curled into a lounging position, and Ginger signs, Are you mad? Or stupid?
We have to use caution, Marna signs.
You could have gotten carried away and said something dumb, Blake adds.
I’m sorry, I sign.
“We’re here to chaperone your guard duty and help out,” Marna says out loud. I suppose it’s time to play this game.
“Let’s get it started,” Blake says.
“I have to watch the wino,” I deadpan.
“She can sit there and watch us,” Blake says. “We won’t let her go nowhere, ain’t that right, Kope?”
“That’s right,” Kope says with complete seriousness.
Blake bounces on the balls of his feet, getting into his role. “Pre-party, then summit, then we’re back in business.”
“Fuckin’ right,” Gin says. She glares at Anna.
When I look over, Anna is holding an empty beer bottle. Bloody hell—she drank the rest of the one on the table! Damn it! She should be starting to sober up now!
“Someone put on some music!” Marna cheers.
“Ezzactly!” Anna says. “I been trying to say that.”
I seem to recall Anna having a much higher tolerance a year and a half ago when she’d worked on New Year’s Eve, but then again, that’s when her father had been training her up.
I pace my way up to the bedroom level overlooking the seating area, while the twins, Anna, and Blake begin to dance. Watching Anna dance isn’t helping my frame of mind. Now that she’s no longer falling down, she’s carefree, lithe, and sexy.
I watch her like a hawk, so when she makes her way back over to the minibar, I’m ready. The others might not care if she has another, but I do. I march down there and take the bottle of chardonnay from her hand as she’s tipping it back. A bit spills down her chin and she swallows.
“Hey! Give that—”
I press a hand over her mouth and look at her sternly. Her eyes blaze up at me. She is pushing all my buttons.
I turn her over to Marna because I don’t know what to do with half-drunk sexy girls other than shag them, and Anna keeps touching me, making me want to do just that.
I hate watching everyone pretend they’re living it up in Vegas while what we’re really doing is sitting around waiting for this thing to happen, the moment that will define us. It’s maddening.
I temporarily lose Father, then find him again at the high-stakes table with that same woman. Nothing seems out of the ordinary.
The twins take Anna into the bathroom to clean her up, and then I hear her getting sick. Kope and I look at each other. He shakes his head. I know. I shouldn’t go in there. I can’t show concern.
When she starts to cry, my heart shatters and I ignore Kope’s outstretched hand to stop me. I push past Blake and burst into the bathroom. The twins silently try to stop me as well, but I know what I’m doing. I’ll be quiet. I have to comfort her.
Anna is on her knees under the running water, sitting back on her heels in the shower stall, soaking wet in her underwear. Her hands are on the tiles. She looks up at me with the saddest, reddest eyes. I quickly unbutton my dress shirt and throw it to the sink, followed by my undershirt. Then I open the stall door and crouch behind her, taking her in my arms. She sinks back into me, shaking. We sit there for the next twenty minutes with my arms around her while her bloodstream clears.
When she finally turns to look at me, her eyes are clear, and I nod.
I stand, dry my arms, and leave her to get ready.
I hate this night. It’s hard to imagine that things will look up from here. I can only imagine all the ways they can get worse.
CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE
It’s Time
“We are the lions, free of the coliseums . . .
We’re the beginning of the end.”
—“Young Volcanoes” by Fall Out Boy
I knew things would get worse.
Whispered voices down the hall catch my attention, European accents. I hear the name Marek and I listen intently. It’s a language I don’t understand, but the man speaking sounds urgent. He slips into English at the end. “Find it.”
Footsteps head down the hall, our direction. It’s Marek, and I know what he’s after. I run to my duffel bag and yank out Anna’s bag from within, shoving it toward her.
“Here’s your bag. Get ready.” She stares at me like I’ve gone crazy. I sign, Hide the hilt! The son of Shax is coming!
She pales and opens the bag. We all watch, tense, as she pulls out a sack of wrapped sweets, looks around the room frantically, and then shoves the sack into the rubbish bin. The hilt has traveled the world, hidden in this fashion, with no notice, undetected by man-made machines. But something tells me the son of Theft will be harder to fool.
Moments later he’s at the door, with a whisperer following him in. Marek is matter-of-fact, completely at ease. It’s almost eerie the way Marek seems to know exactly what he’s looking for—the bag of taffies. He fishes it from the bin and opens it, removing the hilt.
He turns to me. “She had it all along. Don’t you know never to trust a pretty face?” His eyes scan me from top to bottom. I’m getting a sense from this guy that I can’t place. It’s nothing to do with the sensual way he takes me in. It’s in the way his eyes seem to be trying to communicate something more. I am rigid from the fact that he’s taking the Sword of Righteousness on his father’s orders, but something in his gaze tells me not to fight it.
When Marek and the whisperer leave, Shax gives him instructions: “Dispose of it. Bury it in the desert if you mus
t.”
We’ve lost our solitary weapon, and it’s almost time to leave for the summit. Panic flares in my chest, and then oddly subsides. From the look on Anna’s face, she’s got enough anxiety for the both of us.
It’s not until an hour later, as Marek is checking us over at the door to the nightclub, that I figure out what’s strange about him—he gives off no evil vibes, no malicious intent. I don’t get the feeling from him that I get with the Dukes and sons of Thamuz and other likely suspects. Marek takes his time patting me down. When the metal detector blares at my boots, and he checks them over with care, I am not nervous. He wears a malevolent expression, but I am the king of masks, and his feels false.
Despite appearances, I have the feeling Marek is an ally. I think he knew how the hilt was hidden because Belial got ahold of him. When he glances up at me from where he’s crouched at my feet, we share the smallest of inconspicuous grins. He knows there are compartments in the underside of my boots, but he doesn’t open them. He merely stands and nods for me to move along. I don’t linger. I want to tell Anna my suspicions, to ease her mind, but it’s not safe. As we enter the club, I bloody hope I’m right about Marek. I hope the son of Theft has the hilt up his sleeve, ready to play.
I keep myself consistently buzzed with a constant stream of alcohol. I have to keep the bonds between me and Anna hidden from Astaroth. I wish I could stay sober, but I must remain on that cusp of fuzziness.
As promised, Father shows to walk Anna into the summit, ready to take full credit for her “capture.” He looks her over with a sneer, and I know what he’s thinking.
She looks the part—a badass mercenary in black leather with heeled boots, and bright blond hair flowing wildly. Her eyes are dark and her lips are red. She doesn’t back down from his stare.
Father turns to me with an abrasive glare. “This isn’t exactly what I had in mind when I said to get her different clothes.”
I don’t respond. He grabs her arm and yanks her toward the VIP room where the summit will take place. Anna turns her head to capture my gaze over her shoulder. She is afraid, but pushing forward. My brave girl. Anyone else, including me, would have tried to run from this fate.