CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Down in the bowels of hell’s fiery caverns, Stryker studied five workshop tables. Through the breath-dampened face mask, he inventoried his cache. Well, almost his. Bullets, blades, and bolts arranged by shape and caliber. Daggers and knives, long and short, single-edged and double, all shining with the red oxide of Hell’s venom, eager to rip Watcher flesh from bone.
In his rapture, a line from a human poet, Poe, came to mind. The “Red Death” had long devastated the country. No pestilence had ever been so fatal, or so hideous. Blood was its Avatar and its seal— His fingers trembled as he caressed the silken shaft of the bolt. The metal warmed to his touch. “And they are all made of your special demon-steel?”
“Alls,” Pyrac said. Raising a thick, scarred hand, the Blood Dweorg slicked back his wisp of wiry green hair with the mucous drippings of his nose. His milky red gaze darted around the dim cave, absorbing Stryker’s every movement. Social graces were not Pyrac’s strength, but what the Darkworlder lacked in manners and aesthetics, he more than made up for in craftsmanship and technical innovation. “Every pieces forged by my own. Every batches mixed with magik blood to kills the Watchers, as you requests.”
Yes, magik blood. He glanced to the female staked through the belly and throat above. Pinned to the jagged stone of the cave ceiling, the Cherub’s long blonde hair dangled in tangled bloody strings above them, her face gaunt. By her blue-gray pallor, he’d guess her drained dry. Less than twenty-four hours since Devious delivered her and she had withered away to an emaciated corpse—her purpose well served.
He smiled. At times, war could be a dirty business. Other times, it was rewarding as hell.
Retrieving his handkerchief from his pants pocket, he dabbed his brow and patted along the top of the mask. The heat from thirteen forges was staggering but the stench would be worse. His breath fogged the inside of his protective face gear, sweat stinging his eyes. No matter. He’d seen what he needed.
“Wells, Shedim Master?”
After a nod to Devious, his hunters rolled in three sloshing firkins and hefted the large ore deposits of Tamahagane over as well. With a thunk, the glittering rock chunks were set atop each barrel for the swordsmith to examine. “Your payment, in full.”
Pyrac’s eyes narrowed, his sausage fingers caressing the raw ore. “Lots of silvers. Veins of silvers makes good swords.”
Stryker nodded. “You mentioned that. The blood was harvested to your specifications as well, so I am certain you shall find everything to your liking.”
Pyrac tucked one chunk of stone under his arm as if it weighed no more than a newspaper and then lifted the lid off the oak barrel beneath. After retrieving his Piranha blade from the sheath on his hip, he dipped the jagged-toothed steel into the thick burgundy contents. A moment later, he withdrew the dagger and held it, still dripping, to his ear.
A homely smile spread across Pyrac’s malformed face as the blade sang. “Oh, yes, she is happy. Happy indeeds.”
Stryker nodded, his heart racing as he surveyed the weapons tables. “Then we have an accord. I shall take the demon steel weapons you have here and any more you make in future.”
***
Late the next morning, Austin stood downstairs in the kitchen of O-Zone. She’d woken alone a few hours earlier and found Zander working away at his desk in the loft. She’d felt it then, a shift in the Matrix. An impending momentous event waiting to occur. He was holding himself at a distance and she didn’t know why. Something in last night’s meeting had struck a chord with him. He’d tasked Kyrian to fix her breakfast and then went down to the club to work.
Now, locked in club owner mode, he’d suggested she and Stetson hang out with Jules while he and Colin spoke with the liquor supplier to iron out their order discrepancy from the other day. Was he setting an example for his men? He had people watching him, judging his decisions. Maybe he was done with distraction and ready to send her back to her human oblivion.
“You are quiet today,” Jules said, propping the door of the industrial ice machine open and grabbing a scoop. “Everything all right?”
Austin stroked Stetson’s head and leaned against a steel prep table. “Zander’s gone all silent and polite. I’m not sure if it’s angel stuff or me or what. I don’t want to pry but I won’t stay if I’m not wanted. If it’s time for me to move on, he should just tell me and set me back in my life.”
Jules snorted, shoveling cubes into the carrying bin. “It’s not that you’re not wanted. Whatever you’re doing, it looks good on him. On both of you. Don’t be so hard on yourself. He’s dealing with a lot but I guarantee it’s not you.”
“You don’t think it’s too much too soon?”
Jules called for a bus boy and handed off her load. She shoved the empty scoop back into the ice and the door to the machine drop shut with a bang. “Nah, sometimes a man strikes you dumb like that. Some people get a slow build and burn, others are caught in the wake of a lightning strike. Rayvn and I took ages to get our act together. You and Zander are definitely lightning. Enjoy it. You deserve it.”
Austin’s stomach growled.
“Shit, you’re hungry. We better get you something to eat or Zander will think I didn’t take good care of you. Might as well make some sammies for the boys too. And while we’re being domestic, you can tell me what else is bothering you.”
Austin laughed and accepted a loaf of bread. After she unclipped the tie she pulled out slices of bread. “I don’t even know where to start. There’s so much spinning around in my head it’s hard to make sense of it. My life in Texas. My life in Toronto. Things just haven’t played out like I planned.”
Jules unscrewed a lid and grabbed something from a cutlery bin. “Ah yes, the best-laid plans of mice and men. Planning is your first mistake. Life is the crazy mess you’re left with once you realize the gods laugh at plans.”
Counting out ten slices of rye, Austin laid them in pairs, then rethought and added four more. “When my daddy died a few years back, I had my degree in physiotherapy and was three years into my bachelors of kinesiology. I transferred to the University of Toronto for my last year and thought I’d forge a new path.”
Metal clinked off the side of the glass jar. “How do you like your mayo, thin or sloppy.”
“Sloppy,” Austin said, snacking on a slice of honey ham.
“You own your own clinic, right?”
“Yeah, with my ex, Rick. We graduated and couldn’t find jobs. After six months, we took what money we had and ventured out on our own.”
“Havarti?”
Austin nodded. “We’ve busted our humps for three years and it was finally paying off.”
“Until?”
“Until he sexed up our receptionist after hours and spoiled things on my end.”
“The receptionist? That’s cliché.”
“Talk about blind . . . I had no clue.”
“Well, good riddance. My hubby would happily torture him a bit for you. Dragons have some nifty tricks and Rayvn hates cheaters.”
Austin choked on her sandwich meat. “No thanks, I just need to figure out my next step.
While Jules cut the tomatoes, Austin peeled off leaves of lettuce and set them in a pile. There was enough food to feed half the neighborhood, but Zander and Kyrian were big. It would take a truckload of calories to fuel those Clydesdales.
“Maybe I don’t want to run a clinic anymore. I spent all my time bound to the office.”
“Well, they say everything happens for a reason.”
Austin didn’t believe that. Her mother and brothers drowning in a freak flood? Her being blinded after falling off a horse? What possible reason could there be? Sometimes life just sucked at random. She accepted the plate offered to her and crunched on a Dorito.
The two of them shared their lunch, talking about Texas, Jules’ boys, and how she came to work for Zander at the club. “Rayvn figured there wasn’t a safer place for a human to work than the Otherworld safe zone. There isn’t another place like it. Zander declared it an alignment neutral sanctuary and his reputation in the streets keeps everyone here safe.”
Otherworld safe zone. “Is that what O-Zone stands for?”
“Yes, what did you think?”
Austin’s cheek burned warm. She’d thought something far more sexual. It was a hedonist club, after all. “Jules, could you point me toward the ladies room?”
“I better take you.” Jules stacked their plates and slid them along the stainless-steel countertop. “You never know where bags of garbage might be lying where they shouldn’t be.”
Austin received the grand tour of the ladies dressing room after they washed up. It met every stereotypical movie description of a strip club she’d ever seen. Back-to-back makeup tables lit with small globe lights, flashy nail polish and eyelash kits at each station, risqué costumes hanging from racks, and boas, crops, hats and accessories to complete the transformations.
What would it be like to live this life? To throw inhibitions to the wind?
Three women chatting about the expected crowd for the night came in and the easy trill of their voices cut off. “Oh my,” one said, white fangs and slashes cutting the air, “just the woman we wanted to meet.”
Austin stroked Stetson’s head, focusing on Zander’s comment that not all Darkworlders were bad while not all Lightworlders were good. Colt had the same effect on her and he worked to help Zander and his men. The way she saw Otherworld people indicated race more than alliance.
“Hi. I’m Kate,” a second woman said, her aura flaring up in the most beautiful silver and fuchsia swirls. Austin shook her outstretched hand and was filled with a warmth and contentment she couldn’t begin to describe. “We’ve all been wondering about the other night. Can you talk about it? What happened to you and the woman who was taken?”
Austin swept her hair behind her shoulder. “I, uh, don’t know much. Zander moved me to safety before I came to. They’re all still searchin’ for the other woman.”
“Lucky bitch,” the Darkworler said, “if we’d known that was the trick, we’d have handcuffed our naked selves them years ago.”
Austin straightened. “Excuse me?”
“Forgive Emma, Austin,” Jules said, lighting up a cigarette. “Many girls have tried to catch their eye without result. You’ve managed something others figured impossible.”
“So,” Kate said, “how incredible are those boys behind the scenes?”
Austin scratched her neck. Did they know all the warriors? Did they know what they were? “Um, I’ve really only spent time with Zander and Kyrian.”
“What about Danel?” Kate asked.
Austin’s cheeks warmed. “Danel doesn’t like me much.”
“Giving you the rude, surly treatment, is he? That’s Danel. So damn sexy.”
“Women love the bad-boy,” Emma said, an edge to her tone. “But shouldn’t you be exempt from contempt? Zander’s taken you under his wing. I’d think they’d all fall in line.”
Austin ran a hand along a rack of costumes. “They’re all dealin’ with a lot.”
Sliding a few costume hangers down the display rack, she touched the leather and straps, wondering what they were and what they would cover. It both shocked and fascinated her that she pictured wearing something like this for Zander.
“Look, girls,” Emma said, “Zander’s shiny new toy wants to play dress up. You think you have it in you to dance for your man, human?”
Was this the kind of woman Zander was accustomed to? Aggressive. Revealing. She thought about his comments about her viewing his club with human eyes and wondered if he was right. Was her judgment narrow-minded? Conservative? Did she have the nerve to broaden her outlook? Maybe going back to her life tomorrow was good. He wouldn’t have the chance to get bored with her.
Still, she’d like to blow his mind before went.
Zander laid the revised contract into the folder on his desk, thankful that he’d at least been able to fix one small thing in his life. Pulling out the drawer beside his knee, he showed Colin where he re-filed the updated paperwork and then poured a tumbler of Aberfeldy 21 for the two of them and one for Kyrian.
He took a swig and waited for the smooth heat to coat its way down his throat. “That went better than I expected.”
“You assume everyone keeps up their end,” Kyrian said from his desk. “What are the odds—holy mother.”
Zander looked up and choked on his Scotch.
Jules led Austin past his desk wearing nothing but a skin-tight, leather vest, white lace panties, long leather chaps that buckled across her naval, cowboy boots and a bowed straw hat.
His cock surged to life and he bit back a moan for the sake of the mixed company. Lust made it almost impossible to stay seated. Images flashed in his mind: throwing Austin on her back and ripping away that thin strip of cotton covering her sweet spot, kneeling at the end of his desk, pulling her legs around his shoulders and diving into . . . uh, yeah. His tumbler clunked onto his desk and he continued to sputter.
Kate sauntered across the office, past the spare dance cage, and opened the CD player on the credenza. She set a burned disc into the tray and turned with a conspiratorial grin. “You boys don’t mind if Austin uses the cage, do you? She asked about what the dancers do and I said I’d show her some moves.”
Kyrian ass-planted into his chair and nearly missed the fucker on the way down. “No, uh, be our guest.”
Even with his lungs burning and trying to catch his breath, Zander recognized Kyrian’s expression. He couldn’t blame the brother. Colin, however, made a hasty retreat back to the kitchen and closed the door behind him. Smart kid. Who could look at Austin dressed like that and not want to rip her costume off—with their teeth?
His cowgirl’s swagger floored him as she swung her arms and limbered up a bit with Jules at the cage. Her round little ass swayed back and forth in rhythm with her long chestnut hair. He and Kyrian were struck dumb staring at those chaps. Zander reached down and adjusted his trapped cock while the girls faced the other direction.
Kyrian did a discreet shift and shuffle of his own across the room.
Kate grabbed the remote and headed toward the other girls. “We all set?”
“Sure are.” Austin grinned.
Kate showed her the different ways to maneuver the poles and the crossbars of the dance cage. After that came the thrusts, swings, and sways of moving and touching her body.
Jules joined Zander, hopped up on his desk and crossed her legs. “She rocks the cowgirl look, don’t you think?”
He gave her a sideways glance and ignored the snickering. The two of them had watched women dance the cage together a hundred times, both in the club and auditioning for staff. He had never been so interested in the show in all his long life.
Kyrian shuffled his feet and rolled his chair over to get a better view. “I’m trying not to cross any boundaries here, Zandros, but I gotta tell you. Fuuuccckk.” He shook his head and whistled through his teeth.
Zander swallowed. “I’m about to split these jeans.”
Kyrian frowned. “Those are Hugo Boss.”
Zander’s chest shook as he watched Austin’s tutorial. Austin swung her hips and drew her hands over all the highlight areas of the female form. After another ten torturous minutes, Kate stepped back, and Austin took the reins. Watching her find her confidence working the cage had his animal side pacing.
She. Is. Mine.
Austin flipped her hair using the hat as a prop. She had a natural rhythm and grace he admired. She was one hell of a dancer. She kept one hand on the cage and her lack of sight didn’t even come into play. Truth was, it rarely did. She didn’t let much hold her back.
He needed to kiss her, have her sweet flavor course through his raging bloodstream. He needed to feel her skin on his. He needed a lot of things. He crossed the and hit the stereo’s power button. Clearing his throat, he tried to sound somewhat self-contained. “Would everyone please excuse us?”
Jules giggled and ushered Kate to the door. Zander lost interest in the comings and goings in the room and zoned in on Austin. Her sassy hazel gaze froze on his, her round full breasts bursting from the vest. He closed the distance and wrapped her in his arms. Crushing her against his body, he lifted her bare ass cheeks and wrapped her legs around his hips.
Austin gasped as he seized her. Sexual energy pulsed in the air. His lips met hers, bruisingly rough. His hand twisted in her hair, pulling her closer. When someone cleared their throat behind them, he spun, a growl ripping from his chest.
Kyrian stood inside the office door, frowning down at the glowing screen of his phone.
Zander set Austin on her feet. “What?”
Kyrian’s words came out in a rush of the old language. “Duty before all else, my brother. For those who are given much—”
“—much is expected in return.” Zander spat out the end of the mantra they’d heard a million times. There was more to Kyrian’s warning than a heads up. “Raphael is coming? He’s figured out the synesthesia issue.”
Kyrian nodded. “At first dark.”