Death shall bow, p.11
Death Shall Bow, page 11
The space opened up all at once, revealing a scene that sent goosebumps trailing up my limbs. We waded through bodies, countless eyes taking us in as we passed. Catcalls rang out in Suri’s wake, but she slapped away every reaching hand with her head held high. She oozed feminine power, and I would be lying if I said I wasn’t basking in her shadow. The little badass. A dainty demon in a corset flagged Suri down as we waded onto the main dance floor.
“You’re late,” she called. “Daddy is pissed.”
“Yeah, yeah, I know how to put him in a good mood,” Suri responded, turning to wink at me from behind her mask. “Edith, this is—”
“Uh, Lydia,” I lied, extending my hand to her. “Nice to meet you.”
“You too,” she said, and shook my hand.
“Can you look out for her while I’m on stage?” Suri asked. “This is her first time at The Underground, and you know how the men can get handsy. Don’t want anybody touching my girl.”
I stepped in close to Suri. “Can I go with you?”
“It’s okay; Edith will keep you safe,” she whispered. “Trust me when I say that you do not want to attract Daddy’s attention. I’ll handle him and his pig-headed buddies while you look around, yeah?”
“Yeah.” I nodded.
Noticing my unease, she leaned close to my ear and subtly pointed to the club’s far corner. “If you need me, I’ll be down that hall, three doors to the right. Keep close watch on anyone in a blood red suit. Those are Daddy’s men, and they take what they want if you catch my drift.”
Great. I squeezed her hand. “Okay. Thank you.”
With a kiss on my cheek, Suri was gone. I watched her disappear into the crowd before turning to Edith. “Thank you for looking out for me.”
“Of course. A friend of Suri’s is a friend of mine, always.”
“Same,” I said, and was surprised to realize I meant it. “By the way, who is this ‘Daddy’ guy anyway—”
“Hey, you, Blondie,” a brute of a man in a red suit called from the bar’s far end, snapping his fingers at Edith. “Can we get some service over here?”
Expensive jewels dangled from his earlobes, diamond-studded watch on his wrist gleaming in the light. A ruby-encrusted mask covered half his face—designed to look as if he were crying blood—and I could practically smell the power wafting from him. My shadows hissed in my marrow.
Him: he’d be my target tonight.
“Hold your damn horses, Odin, I’m coming,” Edith responded, before leaning down to whisper in my ear. “I have to get back to work, but I’m here if you need anything. I’ll have security keep you in their sights, Princess. Just say the word, and they’ll be there.”
Shit. She saw right through me. “But how?”
“I’m an aura reader.” She winked. “Yours is a shade lighter than Death's. But don’t worry, your secret is safe with me.”
She crossed her heart as she waded back into the crowd, and my instincts told me she could give two shits about my royal status. Perfect, because I planned to be anything but myself tonight. I’d be Lydia: the carefree reaper who danced like a hoe, drank like a fish, and cussed like a motherfucking sailor, while secretly hunting for the prick who dared put his hands on me.
I pushed my way through the crowd, banking straight for the bar. Red suit—Odin, I think Edith called him—sipped his drink out of the corner of my eye. After a couple quick shots of whatever the hell pixie drink was—reminiscent of vodka with a salty bite at the end—Odin began to move about and mingle. I asked for the bartender’s signature cocktail and waded out into the debauchery with a smile. To the right sat an open-door red room, complete with chairs and straps and paddles. A girl in leather rocking six-inch heels tracked her feet down a man’s back, while another tightened the straps around her submissive’s wrists before shoving a ball gag in his mouth. A whip snapped in the far corner, making me jump. Fuck, that was hot. My center began to throb at the sight alone.
Note to self: new kink unlocked.
But I wasn’t here for that. Though, maybe I could watch just a second longer. I leaned on the door, the girl with the whip making eyes at me across the room. She looked me up and down with pursed lips before making a “come hither” motion, to which I shook my head. A smirk eclipsed her face as she settled onto her pet’s lap, never breaking eye contact with me as she ground against his hard cock. Whimpers escaped her as she began to climb towards release. I watched intently, squeezing my legs together in an attempt to settle the throb between them. She was going to come. And I was going to watch it happen. Her hips picked up speed as she rode him harder, her mouth opening in a “shit, this is good” way, her hands now massaging her peaked nipples beneath the leather. In an unexpected move on my part, I mouthed, “Good girl.” That was all it took for her to be undone, coming hard before crumpling on her sub’s chest. She gave me pleading eyes once more, but I simply blew a kiss and headed towards the dance floor, cocktail in hand.
My hands and lips belonged to Juniper alone.
I turned, my target lost in the crowd now. Shit. I took my place among the bodies grinding all around, searching carefully for Odin. But as the alcohol hit my bloodstream, I settled into the beat and let my body take over. Being so close to the stage—performers, mostly half naked if not all, dancing in cages around the room—the bass rattled deep. So deep I felt myself begin to climb. My center throbbed. Gods, what I would have given to have June’s delicate frame sitting on my face in that moment. To take that pretty little clit between my teeth and—
A hard dick settled against my ass, hands wrapping around to grasp my waist. “Let me help you get off,” a deep voice rumbled.
I immediately pulled out of my rising climax, pain settling between my legs at the lack of release. “Get off me!”
“Hey, hey, calm down,” the stranger said. “No need to be a bitch about it. Was just trying to give your fat ass something to fuck.”
Rage boiled up inside me. Fist clinched, I spun around, cocked back, and buried it straight in his jaw. A loud crack reverberated through the dance floor, stopping those nearby in their tracks. Gasps arose as they registered who I’d hit, their mumbled words making it incredibly clear that I’d made an enemy of the wrong person. When he stood to look down at me, my stomach dropped into my toes. Red suit. Odin.
Shit. Cadagon would kill me if I died.
The brute of a man snatched me by my hair. “You’re coming with me.”
I thrashed in his hold. Edith came into view on the back most stage adjacent the ominous, red door my attacker was heading straight for.
“Odin, stop!” Edith screamed as she hopped down from the stage. “That’s Suri’s girl!”
“Good, then she can explain to Malachi why my face is fucking bloody.”
My heart sank into my toes. Oh, fuck. Daddy…VIP…Suri…This was Malachi’s club. Malachi was Daddy! I should have known. Idiot. The image of the demon Lord wrapped in darkness hunting me with his eyes flowed over me. I could not be seen by him. If I were caught here, there’d be no telling what kind of bullshit ammo this would give him. Future queen of Anathema seen climaxing on a random dude in the middle of a sex club. With how uptight the kingdom’s elite were, I’d end up with a mutiny on my hands. Not to mention my attacker from earlier that night. Who knew if they were in cahoots.
I kicked and punched as we entered the hallway, the base dying behind us. Soundproof walls. Not good. Odin threw me to the floor like a rag doll.
“Now, be a good little bitch,” he growled, grabbing a fistful of my hair with one hand and unbuttoning his pants with the other. “Open that fat mouth of yours and suck until you see stars.”
“Fuck you,” I said, spitting on his pants.
“Mm, I like them with some fight. Makes the game more fun.”
He threw me towards the wall, pinning my cheeks between his knees. In a last-ditch effort for freedom, I looked up, feigning submission. Approval on his face, he lowered his tiny dick towards my lips, slapping my cheek once just to remind me I was at his mercy. A repressed memory—one I’d tried for nearly twelve years to forget—clattered through my skull. Of the man who stole my innocence. No…of the pig who touched a child! The reason I had never, and would never, give another man head in my life. Because I’d never had a choice. And as I stared up at Odin, I decided. I’d never be a man’s plaything ever again.
Rage, red-hot and demanding, soared through me.
Before I could convince myself otherwise, I bit down on his shrimp dick until my jaw damn near cracked. Warm iron spilled into my mouth as he screamed in agony and kicked his knee into my jaw, sending me tumbling face down on the ground. Black crept into the edge of my vision. The pain in my neck from the night’s first attack shot like needles up behind my face. Head spinning, I spit the hunk of severed meat on the ground beside me. Three other bodies came pouring into the hallway, blurred by the blinding pain. Hands, so many hands grabbed and pulled and pushed on me. Their voices layered over one another, creating this strange, almost feral sound. Like wolves on a hunt, cornering their prey. Before I could stop him, one of the men grabbed my mask, ripping it from my face.
“Fuck, Odin,” he snarled, close enough for me to make out his words in the scuffle. “This is Death’s kid!”
Odin riled as his severed manhood bled out, but didn’t respond. He writhed, and in the haze, I watched him slip his mask off his sweaty face. That moment was crystal clear. Like the world stood still for one moment. Below that mask, a dark bruise lay above his right eye…right where I’d hit scarecrow earlier that night. While I had believed I’d been pursuing him, somehow he’d looped back around. Led me to him. He’d probably planted that damned knife, banking on me tagging along with Suri to find answers. I squeezed my eyes shut.
And I’d walked right into his trap.
Odin barked an order I couldn’t quite make out thanks to the ringing in my ears, but I knew. I knew this was it: how I would die. In the darkness, at the hands of a wicked man’s bruised ego.
Way to go, Kim. Idiot.
Then, all at once, a shadow eclipsed what little light shone through the hallway. The men’s voices silenced aside from Odin’s whimpers. My heartbeat in my ears was the only sound aside from slow, calculated footsteps coming up behind me. I watched as the men recoiled, fear in their eyes. Even Odin, piece-of-shit-no-dick, muffled his cries. The steps stopped. I turned to see what manner of beast stood over me, but before I could get eyes on him, a blur darted about the room. In its wake: blood. Three bodies hit the ground in the same second, hearts torn from their chests and crimson draining from their necks. A vampire.
No. Lyvias.
“Please,” Odin begged. “Please don’t kill me! I—”
“Shut your fucking mouth,” Lyvias demanded, voice cool and thick. He snatched Odin from the floor, staring him straight in the eyes. “The only reason I haven’t ripped that lying tongue from your mouth is to send a message to your false Lord. Think you can handle that, pup?” he bit out.
“Yes, of course, yes. I’ll do anything, just don’t kill me!”
Lyvias’s eyes darkened as he leaned in to whisper in Odin’s ear. “Tell Malachi that if he or any of his hounds touch what is mine again, I’ll drown him in his own fucking blood.”
He threw Odin to the ground, the bleeding man scampering off like a dog with its tail tucked between its legs. Lyvias’s shadow encased me next. Not a single word passed his lips as he lifted me into his arms, carried me out through the bustling club—the scene motionless as they watched us pass—and out into the night.
The weight of it all and what would have surely happened if Lyvias hadn’t shown up sent me into tears. He remained silent the entire time, never offering a word of comfort. But never pulling my face away from its tucked position on his chest either. He just let me cry. And cry. And cry.
When we reached the castle’s top landing, he settled me into my bed and immediately left. No goodbye. No, “Are you okay?” Gone. Heartbeat pounding in my ears, an itch on my chin brought me back to reality. Dried blood. From Odin’s shrimp dick. It was still on my face, in my mouth, under my nails. Shit. I’d have crawled out of my skin in that moment if it’d been an option. Men like that, they didn’t see women as human. They saw them as walking holes to fuck. Silent sobs burst free as I slid off the bed and melted onto the hardwood floor, curling up into a ball. Dirty, I felt dirty. And so fucking stupid.
Three soft knocks at the door sounded, Lyvias peeking his head back through. “I’ve drawn you a bath.”
I swallowed a sob. “You…what?”
“A bath,” he repeated. “Can you walk, or shall I carry you?”
Hell if I was going to let him carry me again. While he might have saved my life, he was still the same person who’d called me a disease. A cancer he aimed to carve out in due time. “I can do it myself.”
“If you wish to,” he said, though his frame still haunted me.
I pushed to sit, head spinning. Odin’s kick hadn’t been soft, and I was feeling it. Legs wobbly, I stood, but only for a brief second before crashing back to the ground. Knees screaming from the impact, I let out a frustrated scream. If my hands hadn’t been shaking so fiercely, I would have told Lyvias to fuck all the way off. But I couldn’t get my body to settle down. My breathing hitched, limbs covered in permanent, nasty goosebumps.
“Are you done now?” Lyvias asked, leaning against the door frame. “Or would you like to continue being stubborn?”
“Fuck you,” I bit out.
“If that’s what you wish, all you have to do is ask, Princess.” A smirk crept across his lips.
“In your dreams, asshole.”
He looked me over before making his way to settle at my side. “Maybe, just for tonight, we could put aside our hatred and get you into a warm bath, hmm?”
My sights honed in on his blood red eyes. Within them, where I expected to find the hint of a cruel joke, I found what appeared to be something adjacent to kindness instead. No signs of deception or cruelty. I attempted to stand again, but this time my body vehemently opposed, refusing to move. I cleared my throat. “Just for tonight?”
“Of course. We can go back to planning each other’s murders tomorrow, when you’ve had time to rest.”
A weird sensation rattled through me, but I swallowed it down. No doubt this was all a part of his plan to break down my walls and get me to care. Never. But I did need him if I wanted to cleanse the remnants of the night from my skin. Wash it down the drain and hopefully forget it ever happened.
“Fine,” I said, the word burning on my tongue.
Lifting me into his arms, he averted his gaze as if he were carrying the plague in bodily form instead of his betrothed. Which was fine. I didn’t want to look in his stupid eyes to begin with, let alone be in his arms. Once inside the washroom, he turned his back but didn’t leave.
“You can go now,” I said.
“I’d rather not, in case you need a hand getting in and out.”
“What, you trying to catch a glimpse?”
A snicker rattled through him as I rolled down my stockings, nearly hitting the ground again. “I assure you, I am not.”
“Good.”
I struggled to pull my top over my head, my jaw tender where Odin had marked me. My entire face felt like it’d been hit by a semi-truck, but I wasn’t about to admit that. Not in front of Lyvias. I groaned, pain thrumming in my shoulder. I tried another angle, but this shirt wasn’t coming off without a fight.
“May I help you change?” he asked.
“Abso-fucking-lutely not.” I made another attempt, but ended in the same position as before. Stuck. Shit. “Fine, but if you so much as peek, I’ll bitch slap you into next week, got it?”
“Oh, I don’t doubt it,” he said with a laugh.
He turned, eyes pinched tight, a wild grin across his face. I studied his porcelain skin as his hands effortlessly found their way to the hem of my shirt, pulling it tight around the collar to get it up over my head. I wasted no time diving into the warm bath, the burn soothing me. Silent moments ticked away, him never facing me or attempting to leave.
“You’re brave,” he finally said, cutting through the tension. “Reckless, but brave.”
I scooped water into my mouth, rinsing the iron filth out with little care for the soapy residue it left behind. “Brave? How do you figure?”
“It’s rare for someone to go toe to toe with a hellhound, especially a pack alpha. Malachi’s men,” he said, aimlessly picking at a chip in the door frame, “they’re some of the most vicious creatures in the realm.”
My muscles turned to stone as the dots began to align. Odin’s attack before the club…it was an assassination attempt. Potentially ordered by Malachi himself. But what did they aim to achieve out of it all? It’s not like they could kill me and ascend the throne. Malachi wasn’t a Reigning Reaper. Anathema’s throne answered to Death’s power alone. The hell were they thinking?
“They say Fate and Death fell in love at the dawn of time,” Lyvias continued. “Together, they bore many vicious creatures the human realm fell victim to. Hellhounds—creatures with split souls both man and beast—were the last of their creations. Hounds respond to one master their entire lives and viciously protect them. Their bite is deadly; even a simple nip can put a reaper in their grave.”
Questions began to rapid-cycle through me, and a single image became crystal clear: amber eyes peeking through shadowed woods. Cooper’s undoing. The night I’d lost him. “Can a hellhound enter the mortal world?”
His shoulders grew rigid, though he didn’t turn. “I don’t see why they would want to—”
“That’s not what I asked. Can they?”
“Well, if they had access to a realm door, sure. Anything could.”
The pieces began to fall together, encompassing me in an all-consuming fear. Those eyes…the hound that’d come for Coop and me. We hadn’t followed a random demon’s sloppy kill tracks; he’d led us to him. A trap. It had been them from the start.
