XV

"A nd here I thought you'd ask me what Gabriel's secret is," Raphael commented with an air of lightness that was in complete contrast to the tension Stella could see, riding across his back.

Stella reached for her drink and held it between both hands to keep her fingers from fidgeting. It hadn't even occurred to her.

"I told you I'm already on my way to figuring it out. I don't need to cheat."

Raphael responded with the speed of an asp. "It's not cheating. It's outsmarting your opponent. You should always take the advantage when it's presented."

"We're opponents?"

The guarded question hung awkwardly in the air. Stella hadn't realized she was holding her breath, waiting for Raphael to answer, until he cast her a bland look over his shoulder.

"You're only allowed one truth per win. Which question do you want me to answer?"

The air from her lungs released in a long breath. "The first."

He scoffed. "I should have chosen my questions more wisely." Raphael raised his glass in the air in mock salute, and then his head tilted back, and he was drinking. Stella drank along with him, leaving the barest amount of rhodiola in her cup.

When he turned around fully to face her, his goblet was halfway finished. The effects of the rhodiola left his gaze slightly unfocused and his cheeks pink.

"So, you want to know the story of how I got these, do you?" He stroked one of his horns.

"I do."

A flash of heat passed behind his eyes. "Don't expect some fairytale," Raphael said with a sneer.

Stella kept her expression in check as she nodded back at him. A moment dragged by and then another. Finally, his sneer fell with a heavy-laden sigh.

"Believe it or not, this is not the life I would have chosen for myself. I had dreams of my own, you know." Stella watched as Raphael's Adam's apple bobbed. "My mother's boyfriend on the other hand…"

Raphael stopped abruptly as an acidic laugh burst past his lips. Stella flinched at the sound and the shiver of trepidation it drew over her skin.

"Life wasn't exactly sunshine and rainbows before he entered the picture, but at least it was predictable. My mother fell in and out of sobriety. Racing to pay the bills. But when James entered the picture, he blew up our lives and turned our home upside-down. It was disgusting, barely livable." Raphael's features darkened as he sank into the memory. "Worse was his temper. He liked to take out all his frustrations about life on me and my mum. Well, mostly us. Layla got her fair share of his fist." Raphael paused, his stare reaching far into the distance.

"Who's Layla?"

Raphael tensed. "My sister," he confessed. "I did what I could to protect her, and for a while it worked. Then his violence changed into something more sinister when his eyes landed on her. So, I begged her to change. To be smaller. To play it safe and to stop talking back. Dousing her fire was the only way to keep her out of harm's way, and so she did, for me.

"I could have saved her from it all by just letting her go when she wanted to, but separating at that point was unfathomable. So, she stayed. For me." A crooked self-deprecating smile wormed its way up onto his lips. "Now she's here with me, and all because of James' obsession with the occult."

She's here. Stella's eyes widened. "Wait, does that mean James is a demon too?"

Stella's tentative question brought Raphael's gaze back into focus. He shook his head and cleared his throat, a hand instinctively rising to stroke his horn once again.

"No. Not that he didn't try." He held Stella's eyes with unsettling intensity, voice quieting as he continued. "Our mother tricked us with hope, of all things. Said she'd had enough of James knocking us all around and we were going to leave him and go someplace he couldn't find us.

"She drove us out to the middle of the countryside, which should have been the first clue that something wasn't right. The second clue was how utterly excited she became the closer we got to our mysterious destination. This abandoned barn. It wasn't right, but she kept going on about how everything would be better. How we'd be free." Raphael drank absentmindedly while his other hand wound its way down from his horn to the back of his neck. It anchored there and Raphael's gaze went distant.

Stella squirmed in her seat. She knew far too well what Raphael was going through at that exact moment. Rhodiola had the remarkable effect of making you feel present in the past and twisting your present reality into some marvelous fiction.

"He was there waiting for us. Once we were out of the car, James grabbed me, and Mum got Layla." A visible shudder ran through him as his eyes drifted shut. "We tried like hell to get away, but when I saw Mum take a knife to Layla's throat, that was that. I couldn't fight back anymore, not without Layla getting killed. I begged, but…"

His eyes opened only to stare at the polished floor and a cascade of goosebumps rippled down Stella's body and back up again as she waited out the silence.

"The moment Layla saw me give in, so did she. She just... collapsed in my mother's arms and cried. They bound our wrists and hauled us into this disgusting barn filled with fucking candles. Right in the middle of all that bullshit was a goddamn pentagram like something straight out of a horror film.

"James made sure to kick us around some more before dragging us into the center of the pentagram. Then he and Mum started this strange chanting. It was all so... so surreal ."

Raphael paused to take a drink. Stella marveled at how steady his voice was. The rhodiola clearly numbed away the worst of Raphael's pain.

"I remember telling Layla to stay calm. That I would get us out of there and keep her safe. I almost did too. I was, er, quite a bit into the punk and metal scene when I was still human. A fact you would have easily guessed by my attire," Raphael said with a slight chuckle.

Stella's mouth fell open. She immediately inspected his current outfit. He wore gray wool trousers and a deep navy turtleneck. His hair was artfully messy; the thick strands looked sinfully soft. Picturing him in anything that didn't scream old money was impossible.

"I don't believe you."

He chuckled again. "Well, I was. That night I had on a belt with these fake metal spikes." Stella's mouth fell open further. "I used them to rip through the gaffer tape they used to bind our hands behind our backs. Not in time, mind you. Or perhaps I should say just in time." Raphael shrugged. "Either way, it was their undoing in the end, and our own."

Raphael cleared his throat before continuing. "James and Mum's chanting was step one in the demonic transformation. Step three was a sacrifice for each person pursuing said demonic transformation."

"And step two?"

"Consent of the sacrificed." Raphael's cheeks sucked in momentarily as his tongue passed over his teeth behind his lips. He huffed softly. "They were, of course, astronomically high when they did all of this. They each took a hit of something before their chanting nonsense. James because he couldn't help himself, but I like to think my mum did because the thought of killing her children was too much to bear. Either way, because they were high, when they finished their chanting, they told us about the consent clause. Absolute idiots."

Raphael shook his head, upper lip curling.

"Can you believe that?"

"No," Stella answered quietly. She couldn't imagine her family knowingly sacrificing her for their selfish desires. And yet…

Stella drew in a shaky breath and averted her gaze. Weren't they? Hadn't they done just that to satisfy their need for honor, riches, and greatness on the backs of generations of O'Conner banshees? Stella's gut clenched at the uncomfortable realization.

"What was even wilder was that they couldn't believe we wouldn't consent." Raphael laughed and drank deeply from his cup, finishing it. His tongue chased after the droplets that clung to his bottom lip. "Everything after that happened… fast ." Raphael's cadence slowed. "James wasn't happy when we didn't go along with his plan, so he stabbed me."

Stella gasped and found herself moving to the edge of her seat. "But—"

"He needed my consent?" Stella nodded dumbly and finished off the meager portion of her rhodiola. "More?" Raphael inquired. Again, Stella nodded, reminding herself that she could handle up to four glasses.

Most of the time, at least.

Raphael returned with the bottle and his goblet and refilled their glasses. Yet rather than take back his seat on the couch, he sank to the ground between it and the coffee table. Stella stared down at him as if he were some fallen angel.

Get a hold of yourself. A distant voice warned Stella. Do not feel sympathy for the enemy.

"What happened next?"

Raphael kept his gaze studiously on his goblet as he answered. "Mum was beside herself. James started shouting. Layla sobbed harder. Somehow, in all the commotion, I finally tore out of my bindings, but after that, things went sideways."

"Compared to what?" Stella asked incredulously.

Raphael sniggered. "I haven't the faintest, love. It's just that when I broke loose, something snapped in James. He shouted at my mother to kill Layla. Told her that they'd get our consent out of our last breaths. Then he charged me." Raphael's other hand drifted toward his abdomen. "I don't really remember the next parts. Neither does Layla. Yet somehow—" Raphael stopped to wet his lips.

A new kind of tension rode through Raphael that was somehow contagious. Stella felt a rampant electricity writhing in her veins, making every breath a little bit harder to breathe as she was submerged further into his tale.

"Somehow, James was killed. I think by me—it must have been me since I had my hands free. And Mum, Gods, I don't know if it was guilt or the drugs wearing off, but she gave her consent to be sacrificed and offered her soul up to be ours in the demonic afterlife. She killed herself in front of us. And Layla ." Raphael's voice cracked on his sister's name. "She was just lying there on the ground with all this blood around her. Her blood.

"I remember crawling to her. I remember how much dying hurt. I remember holding her hand and crying with her and telling her it would be alright. She said she was scared. She wouldn't stop asking where she would go when she died. Each time more desperate and afraid than the last."

Raphael's entire body went still.

"I told her she was an angel. There was no place else for her to go but heaven. I tried to give her what comfort and love I could before I…"

His body trembled.

"She made me promise, and I did. I swore she'd go to heaven, and then I died. I don't know how long she had to be like that. Lying in her blood and mine, alone and afraid and dying too. She never told me."

Stella's breath caught as a terrible ache pounded in her chest. She wanted to reach out to him, but as Raphael's glassy eyed gaze returned to the present, she held back.

He sniffed loudly and wiped at his eyes with the back of his wrist, avoiding Stella's softened regard as he drank heartily from his goblet. Stella watched as his body relaxed and a hazy sheen swam over his vision. He leaned heavily against the couch.

"Now here we are. Demons, the pair of us."

Stella remained silent. She didn't know what to say.

"That's awful ."

Raphael scoffed in agreement and tipped his glass toward her. "I told you it wasn't a fairytale."

You did, she wanted to say, but the words wouldn't come out and silence descended far heavier than before.

The longer it went on, the more she saw him.

Saw the glimpse of a broken boy that was kept so neatly hidden away. She never would have guessed his background. The way he carried himself spoke of the easy confidence those of privilege were born into. His story brought a barrage of questions to her mind. All of which ignited her curiosity about him.

Don't be curious! The same inner voice warned, but it was too late. She was, and worse still, she wanted to know so much more about him now. Stella began to chew at her bottom lip, catching Raphael's eye as she did. He summoned a sneer.

"I don't want your pity, nor do I need it." Raphael sat up and gestured toward their forgotten game with a jerk of his chin. "Again."

This time it was Stella's tongue that was the subject of her teeth's abuse. They clamped down on it without remorse to still her suggestion they stop, and for Raphael to slow his drinking.

With reluctance, she scooped her two remaining dice into her cup, shook, and—

"Four twos," Raphael bet.

Stella hurried to check her dice, throwing a speculative look at Raphael's impatience. She didn't possess any twos let alone a wild, which meant for Raphael to win he needed to have rolled all twos. "Call."

He snorted and revealed his dice. Two twos, a wild, and a four. "I win," he said, not bothering to inspect Stella's dice as she uncovered them.

"You don't." Stella reached out to stop his hand as he went to swipe his dice back into his cup. "Look again," she instructed. "You said four twos. You have three, and I have none."

Raphael stared hard at his dice and then her own. "Bollocks," he cursed beneath his breath then pinched the bridge of his nose. "The night was not supposed to go this way. Should've known better."

Stella leaned back; fairly certain he didn't mean to say his last words aloud.

"Go on then, ask away. What truth do you want from me now? Why my powers are so different from the rest? I haven't a clue, love. If I did, don't you think I would have rectified the situation by now?"

"That's not what I want to know." Raphael snorted and muttered something unintelligible while casting a sour look in Stella's direction. "Why are you friends with Jax?"

The question took Raphael off guard. It took her off guard too.

"Come again?"

"Why are you friends with Jax?"

"Because he's—" Raphael's face contorted as he searched for his reasoning. "He sees beyond these." He waved at his horns. "He's loyal, decently funny, and doesn't pass judgment easily. You've met him, haven't you?" He accused.

Stella scowled. "Of course, I've met him."

"Then you know why, don't you? He's a good friend, a good man, and a hell of a fine sorcerer, even if his ego is a bit much at times." A burgeoning grin waged war with Stella at Raphael's adamant answer. "What a waste of a question," he remarked and then belched. He made a face of distaste and excused himself. "Again?"

Stella sighed and nodded, but not before her eyes traveled to the clock on the wall and squinted. Noticing her stare, Raphael followed her gaze.

"It's almost half past one." He turned his attention back to Stella with a stunned expression on his face. "I can't believe it's been over an hour."

"Time flies on rhodiola."

He hummed in brief acknowledgment and swiped three of his dice back into his cup. They shook and rolled at the same time, each peeking under their leather cups to see what they rolled. The betting went on at a sluggish pace, but not because of Stella. Raphael kept having to recheck his roll.

"Call," Stella said with exasperation as Raphael bet two sixes.

"Are you sure?" He pressed.

Stella's eyebrows raised. "I'm sure."

"If I win, you won't like the truth I ask of you." Despite herself Stella swallowed at Raphael's somber response.

"I'm sure," she repeated and showed her dice, neither of which were a wild or sixes. Raphael's face instantly morphed into anger as he revealed his wild and two threes. "Do you… do you trust the demons?" Stella scrambled for a question.

Raphael choked on a laugh. "Absolutely not . They all want me dead—save my sister. Her, I trust." Raphael tossed aside another die. Stella watched it roll away with growing exhaustion. She could feel the tiresome effects of the rhodiola making her eyelids grow heavy.

"I think I should go," Stella announced and started to stand.

"What? No." Raphael grabbed her hand and yanked with surprising strength. She immediately tumbled back onto the couch and glared at Raphael. "One last roll—and we up the ante."

"I don't think that's a good idea." Stella looked anywhere but his imploring expression, her gaze landing on something far more sinister and shocking that turned her entire body ice cold. The devilish dog from her nightmares sat on the other side of the coffee table, not more than an arm's length away.

Stella's stopped breathing.

Every muscle tensed as her lungs glued themselves to her ribs.

No, no, no. She slammed her eyelids shut. It's not real. The world tilted beneath her, and she clutched at the couch cushion with her free hand.

"Come on," Raphael cajoled, squeezing her hand. "You're on a winning streak. What's one more? Winner gets a favor, no questions asked."

"I—" her eyes opened slowly, afraid of what she would find next, but the dog was gone. Air rushed from her lungs as she blinked back tears. "I can't."

"One more." His thumb swept over her knuckles, silently urging her to meet his gaze. She did so with a lump in her throat that wouldn't go away. "Indulge me, Stella."

Uncertain if she could even stand on her own two feet, her shoulders hunched forward as she agreed with the barest of nods.

"For a favor," he repeated with enthusiasm, waiting for Stella's second nod of agreement before reclaiming his dice and cup.

The last round went by quickly, and thankfully, some measure of warmth returned to Stella's body. Raphael called after five bids, swaying slightly from side to side.

Stella stared at her revealed dice and then Raphael's. "A favor?"

Her wary regard drifted to Raphael's triumphant smirk. "A favor," he concurred smugly. "Whatever should I ask of you, little banshee?" A slow smirk spread itself across Raphael's face as he looked up at Stella from his seat on the floor. Taking up his glass, he finished off his drink.

If he's trying to hide his pleased expression, he's failing .

"I know just the thing," he commented lightly, holding Stella's gaze as he lowered his goblet and licked the viscous liquor from his lips. "You'll be my date to the Lunar Court's upcoming ball. They're hosting it in a couple of nights."

"I haven't heard anything about it."

"You're not a member of the Lunar Court," Raphael pointed out snidely.

Stella frowned. "Neither are you last time I checked."

"Ah yes, but enough courtiers like me enough that I received an invitation."

Stella pursed her lips at the jab. "Fine," she grumbled, tempted to drain the remains of her drink to quiet her growing distress. She glanced toward the other side of the table. The space remained empty, but her discontent only grew. "If that's all—"

Stella was about to stand again when a low growl caught her ear. Her heart jumped as she whipped her head in the direction of the front door. You're hearing things. It's nothing.

"It's themed," Raphael mentioned as Stella brought herself to stand. She was ashamed that her legs trembled.

"What party isn't?" Stella said, more to herself than Raphael. "What's the theme?"

The lazy smirk was back on his face. "Heaven and Hell. Do dress appropriately."

Stella bit her tongue and nodded. She made it all the way to the door without stumbling, but as soon as she grabbed the handle the same menacing growl rolled over her ear drums. Ice poured over Stella, freezing her in place. The growl sounded right outside the door. Stella couldn't be sure, but she thought she might have even felt the slightest vibration through the handle.

It rumbled again, no louder than the last but just as terrifying.

"Change your mind, love?" Raphael called.

Stella shook her head, but the rest of her refused to move. "Did you…" A cold sweat damped her neck and armpits. "Did you hear that?"

"Oh, that? Probably, just Dorian trying to get into Matteo or Carmita's pants—potentially both. He's quite ambitious for such a young vampyré. Houseless too."

Her anxiety lowered, now hearing what Raphael spoke of. Male voices could be heard not far in the distance beyond the door.

Relax, Stella. It's all in your head.

She let out a breath and swung open the door, not bothering to say goodbye to Raphael as she plunged herself into the hall.

The first thing Stella did upon arriving back to her room was flop down face first onto her bed. A nap sounded too lovely to pass up. Her eyes slipped closed as she scooted into a more comfortable position only for a long-suffering sigh to emerge from her lips. She squinted down at her feet, still encased in ankle boots. Stella grumbled as she sat up and begrudgingly took them off. They dropped to the floor with near identical thuds.

She blinked. Savoring the elongated second of having her eyes closed and anticipating a good long nap. However, as her eyes opened a new sound reached her ears. A soft rapping.

Stella frowned. Her bottom lip jutted out as the rap sounded again more insistently than the last. She was half-tempted to ignore the visitor, but her body was already moving. Before Stella knew it, she was in front of her door.

"What—" Her sharp greeting stopped short as she absorbed who was at her door. "Raphael?"

A cool breeze wafted in from the hall and wrapped around her ankles. No, not exactly her ankles. Her bones. Stella frowned.

"May I come in?"

She gave him a once-over. His cheeks were still pinkened, and his hair even more tussled around his horns, but his eyes were remarkably clear of their rhodiola haze. Perhaps he took a sobering tonic?

Stella swallowed and quickly glanced out into the hall. No one was around. Strange, but it was the middle of the night. She doubted many would be in their suites or rooms when there was starlight to capitalize on.

Stella shifted aside.

"What are you doing here?" She asked as he came in and brought more of the cold. Goosebumps crawled up her calves and shins as she shut the door then wrapped her arms around herself. "Is there— oh ." Turning, Stella ran almost directly into him. She stumbled back a step, her back hitting the door.

Raphael's gaze was hooded. He approached languidly, a hand gliding upward to settle against the door near her head. Her mouth and throat went dry as he stared down at her.

"I changed my mind."

"About what?"

"My winning request." His other hand took possession of her chin with thumb and forefinger. Gently, he guided her head to the side to whisper in her ear. "I don't want to take you to the ball."

"Oh?" Stella all but stammered as his head dipped down. His fingers left her chin, only to tuck her hair behind her ear. Stella's teeth came down hard on the inside of her cheek to keep her breathing under control as his lips ghosted over the space of skin where jaw met ear.

He hummed.

"I want you ." Raphael punctuated the statement with an open mouth kiss just below her ear. "All of you. Spread out beneath me with nothing between us, moaning my name until your voice is gone."

Raphael's lips dragged down her neck, tongue laving her racing pulse. He purred in satisfaction.

"I don't—" Stella cleared her throat, eyes fluttering open and dizzily wondering when she'd even closed them. She felt wide awake, and despite the warmth gathering between her legs, everywhere else inside her registered dimly as cold. "I'm not sure that's a good idea."

"And yet…" He chuckled and a fresh wave of goosebumps rippled over her skin bringing every hair to stand on end. Stella exhaled roughly, startled to see her breath plume before her. A second later, the temperature drop registered more fully in her mind. Dread filled her stomach. "What I wouldn't give to impale you here and now. Split you from navel to neck."

Stella jerked to the side, only to find Raphael gone and someone completely different staring back at her. She screamed with her sonic voice, running on pure survival instinct. The knee-jerk reaction left her insides in chaos and lungs on fire. The man—the demon —careened back several paces.

Her horror increased tenfold as he straightened before her.

He was the largest person she'd ever seen, with runes like Raphael's covering most of his dark skin. A violent shiver rocked Stella's body. His eyes, the deepest darkest blue she'd ever seen, trained on her like a hawk. Stella whimpered as her gaze skirted up to the twisted pair of horns on his head made of a lustrous copper.

The demon smirked at Stella. Everything about him oozed malice and malevolence. Stella tried to step back, realizing belatedly the door blocked her path, when the room suddenly blurred around them transforming into something else entirely.

A room—no, a hall.

She shuffled back unhindered, her balance shaken as she took in her new surroundings. The ceilings arched high above and were lined with beams as far as she could see. Statues lined the wall too. They were perfectly white except for… Stella's mouth ran dry.

Except for their hearts, which were missing and depicted in no uncertain detail of their savage loss.

"This isn't real," Stella whispered to herself shuffling further back. Her feet almost slid out from under her against the polished marble floor.

"Let us test that theory," the demon from her room rumbled.

Stella tensed, gaze narrowing on the demon as he shifted onto the balls of his feet. She released her sonic scream again as he lunged. Familiar and trusted fire lit up her lungs as her voice speared through the room and tore the demon into shadows and smoke.

Her scream cut off with a gasp as she hurtled upward in bed. Stella cast frantic looks around her bedroom, a maelstrom of questions ripping through her head. How? When? Why? She slid off the end of her bed and promptly tripped over her discarded shoes. Stella stumbled then straightened, her widened eyes landing on the offending footwear with confusion.

But... but how? When had she fallen asleep?

It didn't make sense. None of it made sense. As she tried to grasp onto the lingering memories of her dream, they slipped through her fingers like sand.

"I'm going crazy," She whispered, running both hands through her hair. If she wasn't worried before, she was now.