Chapter 28

Chapter Twenty-Eight

PIPER

The daemon healer fixed Piper’s dagger wounds but left all the bruises for her to deal with. It turned out magically repairing damaged flesh wasn’t very fun—healing the slices had hurt more than receiving them—so she hadn’t begged for her minor injuries to be treated as well.

The moment she was no longer bleeding, she’d recovered the Sahar’s ring box from the room where she’d hidden it, returned the artifact to the box, and wedged it back into her bra. Lyre had disappeared again to find Ash, so her next goal was to locate both daemons and see if they’d gotten the Gaians’ location out of Lilith.

She’d beaten three daemons in the ring, but the mazelike bowels of the building defeated her weary brain. She ended up back in the main club, where the dance floor was still jammed with masked humans and daemons. Her mask was long gone, but she really didn’t care.

She found an out-of-the-way corner near the far end of the bar where the music wasn’t as deafening. Turning so she could see the curtained doorway that led to the other areas of the Styx, she leaned against the wall to wait for Ash and Lyre to appear.

Despite aching from head to toe, she started tapping her foot restlessly. They’d been here for hours now, and she was more than ready to get a move on. Her father had been missing for too long already. Who knew what the Gaians had done to him? And if she was wrong about who had attacked the Consulate, she’d have to start over from scratch.

Her father might not have that much time. He could already be dead. The thought made her stomach turn.

She didn’t realize her eyes had slid shut, weighed down by fear and fatigue, until an unexplained chill ran up her spine. Her eyes flew open.

A man stood in front of her, a hesitant tilt to his head. Perfect golden skin, pale blond hair, and an exquisitely beautiful body. A mask covered his entire face, a fantasy countenance of teal and gold, but there was no doubt he was an incubus.

He wasn’t Lyre. He was a few inches shorter, a bit leaner, his arms lacking Lyre’s muscle tone. But even with his face mostly covered, recognition smashed through her defenses like an icy wave breaking against a rocky shore.

“Micah?” she whispered.

He smiled, and it was like a punch to the gut. Then he pushed his mask up, and it was like Thoth had slammed her into the floor again.

“Piper.”

Humiliation doused her, followed by panic. She wanted to run away, but her cowardice made her feel even more pathetic. She froze, unable to react either way.

Micah stepped closer, then closer still. Close enough to touch her. Close enough to lean in and speak in her ear.

“Piper,” he began.

“What are you doing here?” she cut in sharply. Her hands were shaking, her gut roiling.

“I come here a lot. Piper?—”

“Go away.”

There, she’d said it. Except instead of icy and disdainful, the words had come out like a desperate plea.

His eyebrows drew together. “Piper, baby, please listen.”

“No.”

Screw pride, she needed to get away from him—but she couldn’t look away from his face. From his amber eyes. Why was he here? How had he spotted her among the hundreds of clubgoers?

“Will you please let me apologize?”

She didn’t want an apology. No apology would undo the moment when he’d stood over her in the bed they’d just shared, his face lit with vicious satisfaction.

“You were a pretty good fuck for a virgin, but I never loved you.”

The way he’d drunk in her shock, pain, and mortification like a fine wine—he couldn’t undo that either.

“Go. Away ,” she growled. This time it came out the right way—acidic with hatred.

Hurt pulled at his beautiful features, and a low, warm flutter danced in her belly. No. No, no, no. She wasn’t attracted to him. She would never, ever be attracted to him again.

“I know an apology will never be enough.” He took her hand in both of his and gently massaged her bruised knuckles. “I was so cruel to you. I have no excuse.”

She wanted to yank her hand free and punch him in his lying mouth, but her limbs were tingling and her skin had flushed with heat. Why was it so hard to think? Why were memories of him slipping through her head—the first time he’d visited the Consulate last year, his captivating smile, his contagious laughter.

He’d asked her permission to hold her hand. He’d asked if he could kiss her. Bit by careful bit, he’d worn down her defenses, charmed away her reservations, and convinced her he was in love with her. Convinced her she was in love with him. And when he’d asked if he could make love to her, she had said yes.

He leaned into her, trapping their hands between their bodies, sincerity written all over him—but the remorse on his face wasn’t real. The lines of sadness around his eyes were fake.

“I know you don’t want to see me,” he said, “but I need to tell you one thing. My biggest regret.”

Her breath was coming too fast. Her head was swimming. He slid one hand up her side until it cupped her cheek. She wanted to shove him away, but something was wrong with her. He trailed his fingertips down again, his touch stopping at her cleavage just above her shirt.

“One regret…” He put his lips to her ear, his voice a sweet, gentle whisper. “I should have fucked you one more time before I broke you.”

Her eyes went wide, and rage burst through her, burning up the warm, achy lassitude in her body. She lurched away—and he flew backward so fast he was a blur.

Micah crashed into the wall, and Ash was there, pinning the incubus against the concrete by his throat. Piper gaped, her mind scrambled.

“If you touch her again,” Ash snarled, “if you so much as look at her, I’ll rip off your balls before I tear out your throat. Do you understand?”

Gasping and choking, Micah gave a jerky nod.

Ash released the incubus and stepped back. He’d donned a black t-shirt, but his black mask was nowhere in sight—and his expression was savage.

Slowly straightening, Micah looked from Ash to Piper to Lyre, who’d appeared beside her. Micah cocked his head at Lyre but kept his focus on Piper.

“He won’t be as good as me,” he mocked.

Ash lunged for him. Micah barely managed to slide out of range. His derisive laughter rang out before he disappeared into the crowd around the bar.

Lyre turned to Piper, concern creasing his forehead. “Are you okay? Take a few deep breaths. His aphrodesia will wear off quickly.”

Her stomach did a weird, nauseating somersault. “His… aphrodesia?”

Lyre reached out to touch her shoulder, hesitated, then withdrew his hand. “Yes. It wasn’t a lot. You’ll be fine in a moment.”

Her insides burned with everything she was feeling. Micah had used aphrodesia on her. She hadn’t realized it. Had he used it on her before, too?

Ash was watching her, silent and still, anger radiating off him.

“Piper?” Lyre asked gently, searching her face. “Are you okay?”

She wanted to shrug like it didn’t matter, to be the tough girl, the smart girl. Why was it so hard to look at them? Why couldn’t she meet their eyes?

“Piper,” Lyre repeated, even more softly. He was smart. He could put two and two together. He would realize that Micah had seduced her before this, and he was the reason she’d gotten angry at Lyre for flirting with her.

Humiliation turned her insides to bubbling acid. Every breath burned.

Lyre studied her for a moment longer, then turned to Ash. “Let’s kill him.”

“Planning on it.”

“Good. Let’s do it now.”

“We have to deal with the Gaians first. Then we’ll kill him.”

Lyre cursed, his exact words lost in the music. His jaw was tight, a muscle ticking in his cheek. Ash stood a long step away from Piper, his glare sweeping along the bar where Micah had vanished. A few days ago, she would’ve been intimidated by the electric sense of danger thickening the air around him. Now, she had the crazy urge to tuck herself in his shadow, as though nothing could hurt her with him in front of her.

Sucking in a breath, she straightened. She didn’t want to be protected—no, she didn’t want to need protection. She had to take care of herself.

As she opened her mouth to ask Ash if Lilith had given up the Gaians’ location, a panicky feeling of unease turned her stomach. She rolled her shoulders, trying to pinpoint the cause of her sudden anxiety.

She rolled her shoulders again—then clapped a hand to her chest where the Sahar’s ring box had been.

The empty spot .

“ No! ” She didn’t realize she’d shrieked her denial until Ash whipped toward her. Lyre had frozen with surprise.

“He stole it!” The words burst from her in a frantic shout. Panic scrambled her brain. “ He stole it from me! ”

Ash stared at her, uncomprehending. His gaze dropped to her hands clutching the front of her shirt. He spun on his heel and ran in the direction Micah had gone.

Lyre grabbed Piper’s hand, yanking her into motion. They raced along the path Ash was bulldozing through the mass of people. As clubgoers cried out or fell into their neighbors, the mob forced an opening to let him pass. Piper and Lyre sprinted after him.

Ash didn’t slow, didn’t look back. He ran through the curtained doorway and past the private lounge where they’d made their bargain with Lilith. At the end of the hall, he slammed a door open and charged up a flight of metal stairs.

Piper had no idea if or how Ash knew where to go, but she followed without slowing. The stairs kept coming, and Ash drew ahead, too fast for a haemon to keep up with. Lyre dragged her by the hand, and she had to work hard not to stumble.

A door banged above them. When she and Lyre reached the landing, the unobstructed doorway framed the building’s long, flat roof.

Ash stood at the far edge of the roof, staring upward.

Piper ran out into the cool night, terrified and bewildered. As she and Lyre rushed to join Ash, she followed the draconian’s gaze to the velvet black sky.

And she saw it: blinking white and red lights scarcely illuminating the round body of a helicopter as it zoomed away.

“No,” she choked.

“Micah’s trail ends here,” Ash said.

Lyre swore, his voice low and intense.

“But—but—” She whirled on Ash and grabbed the front of his shirt, forcing him to face her. “You can fly, can’t you? Use your wings and bring him back here!”

“I can’t outfly a helicopter.”

“Try!”

“I know I can’t,” he snapped, pulling away from her.

Piper’s jaw clenched with desperation, and she turned back to the rooftop’s edge. The blinking lights of the helicopter shrank in the distance—too far to chase, too fast to catch, impossible to track.

The Sahar Stone was gone.