Chapter 23

23

R enzo

I slide down the dragon’s back and land in the garden of some snooty-looking palace.

Me? Renzo fucking Barone in a palace? I snort and shake my head, my brain unable to compute it.

You spend your whole life as an outsider. Never fitting in. Different. Knowing other people don’t work the same way you do. Peering in windows at other people’s lives. Banned from fucking places because they’ll arrest you and lock you up.

And now here I fucking am, strolling straight through these fancy gardens and towards the palace itself.

How the fucking tables turn.

I have what Lowsky used to call my ‘shit-eating grin’ stretched across my face. The way my face would look every time I fulfilled an assignment in record time, or with special enjoyment.

I’m wearing this grin for a different reason today, because I belong here now. No matter what all those snotty motherfuckers with their long last names may think. I belong.

Never minded not belonging. Never bothered by it. But now I do – now I belong with her and to her – I realize how much I’ve been fucking missing out.

Not that my little rabbit’s grinning. She’s chewing on her thumb, eyes darting all around the place like they used to do when we first met. I’m guessing that means she’s scared. Of what? She’s a fucking princess. Literally. If what they’re saying is true. What does she have to be scared of?

I wrap my arm around her neck and tug her towards me, an action that rewards me with pissy looks from her other mates. They don’t like me manhandling her. But she likes it. She has a side they can’t see. And I may be shit at reading most things but I don’t miss the way her eye lights up with excitement whenever I touch her.

Little man is peaky from our dragon-flight but trotting alongside us nonetheless.

“Little rabbit,” I whisper into her ear as we pass through an archway made of dark steel and into a courtyard, the high shiny walls of the palace on all sides, “you wanna get out of here, you just say the word and I’ll shoot us somewhere far away.”

“If we go,” little rabbit says, “we all go together.”

“Seriously?” I say. I mean I’d blast them all out of here if she asked me to. The whole dying thing was a fucking trip. I’d do it again if it didn’t make her sad. Then again, I don’t want to die without fucking her some more. That would make me sad.

She looks up at me. Fuck, those eyes of hers. They do things to my insides. Jumble them up. On second thought, fucking her is much better than the dying.

Much, much better.

“I don’t mean …” she says, “I’m just saying, we’re all sticking together from now on.”

I glance over to where the man in black and the professor are talking, all serious like, together.

I think things would be more fun with just her and me, without the others, and maybe once upon a time I’d have done something to ensure it was just us. No other dudes hanging about, diverting her attention away from me and my dick. But there you have it. I haven’t and I won’t – and not just because it makes me hard every time I imagine one of them with her – something I’m chewing my fucking right leg off to watch – but because I know this is how things have to be.

Look at me, accepting things. My mom is probably turning in that shallow grave I buried her in.

“Whatever you want,” I tell her. “Just know, I’m on your side, little rabbit, and your side only. I don’t give a shit about fate, or prophecies, or parents or anything like that.”

“I know,” she says, and rests her head against my shoulder in a way that has the useless heart in my chest pounding.

I take secret little gulps of her scent. Fuck, I love the way she smells – not so sweet and floral it makes your nose hurt, not so subtle you have to strain with all your might just to smell her. No, she’s like Goldilocks – just right, just perfect.

A door slides back and we walk inside, the air immediately warm, the air fragranced, the wide corridor sleek and bare. We stride along this too and though I see no one else, I can sense their presence all around, out of sight. Then we stop.

The Black Prince steps towards us and little rabbit ducks under my arm and steps forward too. The Black Prince smiles at her and takes her hand in his, an action that has all the dudes bristling around us. Seems they don’t like him touching her either.

“I am so glad you have returned, my child. It is the greatest possible gift – one I feared might never happen.”

“I have so many questions,” she says.

“I know you do. Later. First, we feast. Sopherina and Portia will show you to your rooms, where you can wash and change in preparation for the feast. Garments will be provided for you.”

I glance down at my body. My boots are all fucked up from the seawater and my jacket’s covered in sea salt. I’m not taking them off. I don’t care where we are.

I look at little rabbit next. Her sneakers are hanging off her feet, the bottom of her pants soaked with seawater. Her cheeks are ruddy from the wind and her hair tangled. She looks like a sea goddess stepped right out of the ocean. Fucking amazing.

“I will send my man to fetch you in an hour,” the Black Prince continues. He bends low, kissing little rabbit’s paw, and then we’re being hustled away.

The professor steps in close to us as we walk down more hallways, this palace like a fucking maze. There’s something swirling all over his face, the way he used to look as a kid when some other kid pissed him off.

“What’s up, prof?” I ask him.

“Stone,” he mumbles, “could you just call me Stone?”

I stare at him. We both know that’s not his name. He’s named after that bird. The one that rises from the ashes. I fucking hated him for that name when we were young, wanted so badly to steal it for myself.

“This is strange, isn’t it?” little rabbit says to him, “not like I thought the West would be like.”

“No,” Birdman says, eyes sliding all over the place, “not like it at all.”

“Does it matter?” I ask.

“No,” she says, “I just … I just don’t understand.”

The two dragon riders halt outside another door, one waving her hand so it slides back.

“These are your quarters. There is a room for each of you.”

It’s the first time either of them have spoken and they have those same thick accents. They don’t say any more. They bow and go.

We all wait by the open door.

“We going in?” I ask, “or we leaving?” You can never be sure with these dudes.

“Going in,” little rabbit says, “I need to radio Winnie. Let her know what’s happened.” She steps inside the room, her eyes widening like two full moons in her face as she does. “Wow!” she mouths.

I spin my gaze about. I know fuck all about houses and shit, but this is a palace and I’m guessing it’s enough to impress little rabbit. Her eyes remain wide as they spin over the large room. It’s jammed with stuff. But all I really notice is how dark it is – they really dig the color black here. Even the windows are blacked out.

Little rabbit pats the pig’s head as he snuffles about on the ground exploring, then pulls the radio out of my rucksack. She twizzles a button, presses a few more, nothing happens .

“It’s not working,” she says with irritation.

The enforcer takes it from her hands and uses his magic to bring the device to life. It lights up and static buzzes from its belly. He turns the knobs.

“Can you reach her?” little rabbit asks, hovering by his shoulder.

His brows pinch together and he twizzles the knobs some more.

“No,” he says finally, “we’re too far out of range.”

“But we have to let her know what’s happened. She’s waiting for us. She’ll be worried.”

“Rhianna,” he says, “Winnie is an intelligent woman. When we don’t show up, she’ll conclude things didn’t go to plan and she’ll get herself to safety. You don’t need to worry about her. And there’s nothing we can do about it right now anyway.”

Little rabbit worries at her lip but nods.

Then she spots a rack in the middle of the room, clothes hanging in a row. Suits and dresses and all that shit.

She walks straight there like a homing pigeon and starts running her hand over all the material.

“These are beautiful,” she mutters, “how am I going to choose which one to wear?”

“You look good as you are,” I tell her. She looks at me like I lost a screw in my head. “What? You do!” I say stalking towards her as I lick my lips. I’d like to lick all that sea salt off her body.

She holds up her hand to stop me.

“They’re holding a feast. In my honor!” she says, sounding sort of wonder-struck – same way she sounded when I fucked her. “And we only have an hour to get ready. No time for funny business. ”

“There’s always time for funny business,” I mutter.

But she picks up a handful of her hair and scowls at me. “Do you have any idea how long it’s going to take to untangle my hair?”

I roll my eyes and click my finger, leaving her hair combed and tangle-free.

She stares at me, eyes somehow even rounder. “How the hell did you do that?”

“My mom.” I yawn and fling myself down on the nearest soft chair. “She used to get me to do her hair.”

“You?” the were asks, coming to look at the clothes. “Do hair?”

I shrug again. It’s hardly a big deal. “Yeah. I can do those fiddly braid things,” I spin my finger over my head to indicate my meaning, “and waves and shit.”

“Makeup?” the Kennedy boy asks with what I think is a piss-taking grin.

“No, she didn’t like me touching her face.”

The smile vanishes.

“Will you do my hair for me?” little rabbit asks.

My face screws up.

I haven’t done hair for a long time. And I don’t like thinking about those times, even if they come barging into my head anyway.

But it’s little rabbit asking. And so I can’t say no. Especially when I picture her hair wound tight around my fist. Fuck yes!

“Okay,” I say slowly. “But what are you going to do for me? Suck my cock?”

“Behave, Barone,” Birdman mutters, strolling over to the rack of clothes as well.

The were-boy pulls a hanger off the rack and admires the black suit hanging from it .

“They must have known we were coming. There’s one in each of our sizes.”

“I’m not wearing one of those monkey suits,” I say, swinging my legs. No one’s ever cared what I’ve worn before.

Little rabbit looks up from the puffed-up skirt she’s examining, eyes drifting back to me.

“I think you’d look really handsome in a suit, Renzo,” she says.

My legs fall still and I stare at her. Is she for real? Is she joking with me?

“You think I’d look handsome ?”

“Yes.”

“You don’t like the jacket?” I pluck at my collar. Me and this jacket have been friends a long time, but I’d happily fling it on the nearest garbage heap if she says she hates it.

“Renzo,” she says, lifting an eyebrow, “you know you look seriously hot in that jacket.” I peer down at my body. Do I? “I just think …” she bites her lip all seductive like, “you’d look pretty good in a suit too.” She sighs. “I think you all would.”

“You heard the lady,” Birdman says, throwing a bundle of clothes my way, “she wants you all dressed up.”

I scramble up onto my feet and start stripping off my clothes.

“Woah, dude!” the were says. “Go do that some place else.”

“Why?” I say snapping off my pants. I’m going commando and I let it all hang out there for them to see. I may not have known I was handsome. I did know I have a big dick. “You’re jocks. You must have seen his junk, right?” I say to him, jerking my head towards the Kennedy boy.

“He’s never given me a freaking strip show. ”

“You’re going to see my junk when we all fuck little rabbit together,” I say. “You might as well get used to it.”

“Renzo,” little rabbit says. “Go use the shower.”

“Are you coming with me?” I say hopefully, my cock already stiffening at the prospect and the were-boy grimacing.

“No!”

“But that time with the prof in the shower you–”

“Now!” she says, pointing towards the bathroom.

I scoop up my bundle of clothes and slump off with my tail dragging behind me. Little man comes along for the ride. Seems he doesn’t have a problem with me getting naked. In fact, he lies down on the bathroom floor, head resting on his trotters and snoozes while I scrub myself under the shower.

When I’m done I tie a towel around my waist and go examine my face in the mirror, wiping away mist from the plane with the side of my hand.

I’ve never bothered about my face before. It’s been sliced and diced and I didn’t give a shit. It’s just one other part of my body. Who cares?

But she likes it. I tilt my head one way and then the other. She likes it despite the imperfections. Shit, I think she even likes me despite the imperfections.

Crowded around the sink are bottles of all sorts of crap including shaving foam and a razor. I fill the sink with piping-hot water and splash my face with it, the temperature making me wince, excitement shooting down my spine. Then I lather the foam all over my face.

“Gotta look smart for little rabbit,” I tell little man, who opens one eye and peers up at me. “Yeah, ridiculous, but it’s what she wants. ”

There’s a light tap on the door.

“Hey Renzo,” my little rabbit says, “is Pip in there?”

“Yeah,” I say, “want me to send him in for a shower too?”

Pip scowls at me like don’t you even think about it.

Little rabbit giggles. “Can I come in?”

I wink at the pig. Maybe she’s changed her mind.

I open the door and she walks inside, crouching down by little man.

“You know a shower wouldn’t be such a bad idea, Pip. You don’t want to be the only one stinking out there.”

Her hair’s wet and she’s wrapped up in some silky gown which is begging to be untied. I guess she showered already.

Little man snorts at her and then darts as quickly as his stumpy legs will carry him from the room.

“I’m guessing that’s a no then.” She peers up at me. “Are you shaving?”

I sweep my hand back through my damp hair. “You wanted me looking smart,” I mumble.

“I did,” she says and then she stands and locks the door. Are we about to get dirty again?

She points to the razor. “May I?”

“Are you going to slit my throat, little rabbit?” I whisper darkly.

She doesn’t answer me, picking up the razor in her hand instead and stepping closer to me. With her left hand, she tilts my head backwards, exposing my throat. And, fuck, maybe she is. That or sink her teeth into my throat.

I take a hold of that tie around her waist and drag her closer.

“What you going to do, little rabbit?” I ask.

She meets my eyes and then presses the razor hard against the soft skin beneath my chin, gliding it firmly down my throat. It slides over the foam and my skin, but there’s still a sting. A tantalizing sting, and I close my eyes and sigh. She reaches down and swishes the blade through the water, the foam dissolving away, and then she presses the razor again.

“Harder,” I tell her.

“Don’t move,” she tells me, like she’s perfectly aware of what I had in mind.

She presses more firmly, scraping at my throat this time and how the fuck did this happen? How did fate make a girl so perfect for me? Dark like me. Prepared to indulge me in my sick little games. I lick my lips, peering down at her as she drags the razor down my throat a third and fourth time, those pretty eyes of hers focused intently at her work, her pink lips pursed.

She grabs a hand towel and wipes at my throat next, examining her work first, before she lowers my head and inspects my chin next, swishing the razor once more through the water as she does. She tilts my head to one side and drags the blade right down my cheek, over the scars, to the edge of my jaw. She does it again and again, cleaning the razor each time. Then she halts and runs the pad of her thumb gently over the place she’s just shaved.

“Soft,” she comments.

“And handsome?” I ask, still unable to believe that claim.

“Very,” she says, sighing slightly in a way that sends shivers all over my body.

“Me?” I say. “Even with the,” I pause, “funny eyes?”

“I love your eyes,” she says, observing first my left eye and then my right. “They’re really very beautiful.”

“Shit,” I say, stunned.

She stares right into both eyes at once, like she’s peering right into my cold, black soul. And fuck, how can a woman looking at me like that turn me so much the fuck on?

She tilts my head the other way, and shaves my other cheek, then my chin and finally it’s just the spot above my top lip.

She hovers the blade right there and bites her tongue between her teeth in concentration. She moves the razor closer.

“No mustache, then?” I ask.

“Jeez!” she says. “Stay quiet. I don’t want to nip you.”

“But what’s the point,” I pout, “without a little blood?”

“I don’t understand your fascination with blood,” she says, cupping my jaw and holding my head still. With concentration, she moves the razor over that narrow bit of skin between my nose and my lip, taking special care around the edges of my lip.

“They’re too beautiful to spoil,” she explains.

“You like my lips too?” I ask her, when she moves the razor away.

“Uh huh,” she says, admiring her work a final time.

I take my opportunity, grabbing the hand she has holding my jaw with and dragging it lower to my neck, forcing her to wrap her fingers around my throat. Then I kiss her, and while I do I encourage her to wrap her fingers more tightly. She takes the hint, squeezing, digging her fingers into the newly smooth skin, so I’m gasping for breath as I kiss her, light-headed and giddy.

However, just as it’s getting fucking interesting, she pulls away, that mischief, that darkness sparking in her eyes.

“I don’t want to hurt you,” she says.

“But I want you to, little rabbit,” I growl.

She lays one palm on my chest.

“You’re really special to me, you know that,” she says, before stroking the other palm down my cheek. “And you look even more handsome now.”

My heart stops beating. I feel like I died all over again as she smiles up at me and walks out of the bathroom, leaving me alone there in the misty room like some kind of startled ghost.