XVIII
R aphael was running late.
Excessively so. Normally, he wouldn't mind, but the circumstances which made him late left him harried.
He'd spent hours trying to get into Jax's laboratory while he was out with Ruby and her girlfriend for the night. The ward in place had clearly sensed his less-than-trustworthy intentions toward Jax—or rather Jax's work—and kept him out. It was a bloody miracle he got in at all with how frustrated he'd become.
But he had gotten in and successfully sabotaged Jax's latest cure for Irina. At least, he hoped he was successful.
Jax said the siphon and potion for the cure were extremely sensitive, which meant little was needed to ruin his hard work. It took less than five minutes for Raphael to locate one of the ingredients he knew to be in the potion and add an extra few drops of it in.
The best part about his plan was that Jax would most likely end up blaming himself for the careless mistake, since he'd already done it before. Raphael pushed aside the guilt that rose with the knowledge and reasoned it was the best way forward.
It was the only way forward really, especially after his meeting with Irial the other night.
"I would relish in your failure were it not tied to my own demise... Go, and remember, more than your life hangs in the balance."
Knowing Irial's fate was somehow connected to his success gave him a new measure of confidence. In spite of the fact that he was giving free rein to both Kat and Gabriel to fuck with his efforts.
Soon the tables would turn. Raphael knew they would. His expectation was a physical thing writhing beneath his skin telling him so.
With that in mind, he picked up his pace to reach the Lunar Court. Boisterous voices grew louder and louder as he descended the last flight of stairs. Across the hall, the doors to the Lunar Court were opened wide with three shifters standing sentry. Raphael made his way to the man stationed in the center holding a clipboard.
"Name," the shifter requested blandly.
"Raphael Devens."
The shifter's eyes swept the list. His lip twitched as he made a mark on his paper before his eyes lifted back to Raphael. "Your date's already inside."
"My date?" Raphael felt his stomach drop to the floor. He asked someone to be his date? "Tanyel?" he questioned with a gulp.
The shifter snorted. "The banshee."
Raphael released a low groan as he suddenly recalled his winning request from Stella. You idiot . What was the point of keeping their association to the shadows if he went and broadcast it to the entire court? Raphael ground his teeth. He supposed it was to his advantage that Irial had called off the hit on Stella for now, but what about after? He would have to kill her eventually, and the less ties he had to her, the better.
Too late for that now , he thought bitterly.
Raphael allowed himself a long-suffering sigh before donning an expression of fiendish delight and entering the party. Scanning the crowd, he was both amused and unsurprised to find that Hell dominated the fashion choice of those in attendance. It was exactly why Raphael chose to dress in the style reminiscent of the Heavens.
Golden chains draped themselves around his torso, with a set of golden winged cuffs hugging either bicep. His bottoms were a much simpler affair of loose linen and embroidered slippers. And fingerless white leather gloves adorned his hands to give lucky passersby a taste of heaven.
Walking deeper into the crowd, Raphael grabbed a drink from a passing tray. He sipped at the champagne, enjoying the notes of delicate citrus that lingered on his tongue as he wound his way around the dance floor looking for his date . A primal beat coursed through the concourse-turned-ballroom. The wicked rhythm enticed dancers to writhe against each other in near copulation, for all to see. Raphael smirked, giving the crowd another once over but unable to spot the familiar head of white hair.
Where are you?
His gaze went toward the back of the concourse where there were sure to be more depraved scenes taking place. Raphael doubted Stella would be playing the part of voyeur, but stranger things had happened in the Dark Court.
Raphael stopped at the first staged scene, nose scrunching in distaste. A makeshift ring had been set up, its floor and occupants both slicked with oil. Those gathered to watch the wrestling match shouted vulgar encouragement as money was hazardously passed around for betting. He left swiftly after confirming Stella had better taste than the fools swarmed around the ring and continued his search.
The bodies grew tighter together as he neared the second scene that enraptured what felt like the majority of party goers. Raphael sucked on his teeth as new frustration boiled up inside of him.
And then he caught sight of the scene and stopped.
There was a man with a semi-scarred face hung by invisible ropes. His arms and hands were stretched perfectly still above his head and his face was frozen in stunned rapture. Raphael pushed forward without thinking to get a better understanding of why the scene had everyone so riveted. Magical bondage was hardly a new concept at court.
Raphael joined the perimeter, eyes going to the woman in a glittering red mini-dress holding a flogger loosely in her hand. The man at her mercy balanced on the balls of his feet, chest barely moving in spite of the amount of welts covering his skin. The man's pain threshold was either incredibly high or some kind of sorcery was at play. Raphael would bet money on the latter as the man unleashed no cry or twitch as the female brought the flogger down on his backside. Hard .
The crowd gave a wild cheer, yet it didn't seem directed at the man or woman…
Raphael followed the line of eager glances to a waif outfitted in shining black silk. His waif.
In an instant, Raphael's mouth ran dry. Stella was temptation-made flesh, and those gathered agreed. Hungry eyes devoured her from every direction, but her eyes were only for the man kept frozen. That she kept frozen.
The breath rushed out of Raphael as another memory clicked into place in his mind. He'd asked about her banshee powers but neglected to dig deeper into the last one she shared. Or rather, Stella had rushed on with their game before he could. Raphael's lips parted as he took in her powers of immobilization.
She kept her hands aloft and moving slowly, as if stroking the air. His eyes caught on her glittering lips which moved gracefully to form whatever spell she used to wield her magic. Raphael skimmed her body, noted the way the fabric strained against her breasts and the unwavering determination in her eyes.
A wave of possessiveness lashed through him.
He'd seen a similar side to her when they were alone together. When she let her guard down enough to let the fire she kept leashed free, but only in bursts. That she had summoned the courage to put it on display here...
Raphael swallowed. He had underestimated her and now the strangest urges coursed through him as his eyes remained fastened on her.
Urges to finish what they started in her bedroom nights ago.
Urges to keep the banshee for himself and—
No.
He was officially going insane.
Raphael found himself shaking his head at the absurd train of thought. It didn't stop his cock from twitching as images of her smooth, moonlit flesh laid out on his bedsheets raided his mind. As if somehow sensing his lustful thoughts, or becoming aware of his heavy-laden stare, Stella's gaze drifted to meet him.
Time stilled as she registered his presence. Her lips stopped moving and her cheeks deepened in color. Then the crowd was cheering and laughing as the man on display fell to his knees. Stella's magic trick finished, those around her eagerly congratulated her, but her attention never wavered from Raphael.
It pleased something deep inside him. Drilled into his core near the middle of his chest.
Raphael took a step toward her and nearly snarled when a hand wrapped possessively around her waist and tugged her backward. Stella's eyes widened behind the slender feathered mask she wore, and then she broke their eye contact to twist and view her ill-timed admirer. Raphael's eyes narrowed, the room pitching to demonic gray even as the auras around him lit up.
Brilliant scarlet dominated the room. Lust.
Even upon Stella. It was a fact that Raphael would have enjoyed were it not for the smirking face of Gabriel as he hooked his arm around her abdomen. His head dipped near her ear as he spoke to her, but his stare was for Raphael. Cunning menace lined his gaze and then the crowd surged forward around the pair, stealing Raphael's view.
He cursed, vision fluctuating back to normal.
Gabriel's aura was a mixture of sinister red and dark noxious green. Though he hadn't been actively hurting Stella, Raphael had no illusion of his intent. Goosebumps rose across Raphael's arms. Whether Stella liked it or not, she was about to find out Gabriel's secret unless Raphael could get there in time to stop him.
But first, he would have to find them.
There was no heckling. No courtiers pushing hastily against each other to get away. No anything, except rapturous applause at the show and Stella's part in it.
The world didn't end.
Stella felt like laughing, and so she did, chuckling under her breath as she kept her posture straight. Gabriel's palm slid to cup her hip as he helped guide her from the center of the engorged crowd. Her quiet laughter abated, but a grin still held her lips aloft.
Truth be told, she was in awe of herself.
When she arrived and learned Raphael had not , panic flooded her veins. She entered regardless with her chin held high, a steady mantra of play pretend, and the world won't end on repeat in her mind. Somewhere between the entrance and the dance floor, she picked up a slight swing to her hips as she assessed the crowd and they her.
Next thing she knew, a glass of champagne was pressed into her hand with a cheeky wink from a shifter whose name she couldn't quite remember. The woman smiled wide as if she knew Stella's predicament.
"I'm Nia," the female said. "We share a mutual friend."
"Oh? Who?" Stella asked with a slight smile.
"Bailey."
Stella quickly leashed her surprise. " Oh ," she said with more meaning. "You're a Wilding?"
Nia nodded. "Do you know when she'll be back?"
"I don't. Sor—" Stella bit down on her tongue before she could offer her apology. The sting of pain was followed by the taste of copper near the back of her tongue. Nia hadn't seemed to notice her misstep, or rather, she didn't seem to care.
Stella ran her eyes over the shifter—a serval shifter if memory served her right. She was acting… odd. Shifty. Anxious even. Her dark eyes flitted over the crowd as if in search of someone and she absently played with one of the many box braids.
"Do you know if she's coming back?" Nia's tone was nonchalant, but the shifter couldn't quite bank the anxiety from her eyes. "We have some, uh, unfinished business."
"Unfinished business?" Stella let ire leak into her voice.
Her memory of Nia had grown by the second the longer she was in her presence. Though she'd only been introduced to her once off-handedly, she'd been told numerous stories of her by Bailey. While their friendship came across as genuine, that was before the catastrophe of Irina's cursing—the curse meant for Stella—and the knowledge that Nia had escorted Bailey to the Lunar Court headquarters that night.
Stella crossed her arms and watched in satisfaction as Nia balked slightly. At her.
Nia took a small step forward and spoke in a lowered voice. "It's nothing untoward , okay? I just want to apologize. A lot of shit has happened between then and now, okay? Bailey had the right idea of getting out while she could."
A frown marred Stella's brow, hidden hopefully by her mask. "What do you mean?"
Nia's throat bobbed as she scanned the crowd. Her lips parted to speak, but a stillness overcame her.
"There you are." The line of Nia's shoulders stiffened minutely before the serval shifter forced her body to relax. Stella marveled silently at her control before shifting her gaze to the man who draped an arm around her waist. He was handsome, though the scars on his face left him with a permanent smirk that unsettled Stella. "Woods."
Stella returned the man's nod of acknowledgment. His name was familiar to her too, thanks to Bailey.
"Making new friends, Nia?" Woods placed a kiss on her shoulder, eyeing Stella thoughtfully with amber eyes that gleamed under the lights.
"Nah, let's go find—"
"Kiefer's already in the back waiting for us. You should join us," Woods told Stella, his invitation coming across more like a demand. "It will be… fun ."
Stella kept her expression neutral as she took a sip of her drink. Nia's eyes held a stark warning in them and a plea for her to say no. Stella would have—was about to even—when the bass of the music dropped, and something stirred deep in her stomach.
"Why not?" Stella held Woods' eye as she tilted her lips into a devious smirk and led the way to the back.
She hadn't intended to goad Woods into being put on display or let some nameless lust demon use him as a whipping post. Nor had she planned to use her enchantress powers.
It had just happened .
Stella couldn't say what possessed her—though she thought her fifth glass of champagne had something to do with it—but she'd loved every second of it. Then Raphael appeared out of the crowd.
The look he speared her with had been filled with such intensity she'd lost all focus. Some good-natured jeers followed the abrupt ending of the show, but nothing truly mean spirited. No one cursed her name or tried to run her out of the party.
The world hadn't ended.
Her lips hitched higher as adrenaline ran rampant through her blood. Those they passed traded grins and smiles with her. A few compliments caught her ear, stretching her smile ever wider.
"You know, I can't recall ever seeing you smile so big." Gabriel punctuated his comment with a squeeze to her hip.
Stella's smile lost some of its wattage. "It's getting a bit too warm in here," Stella said, rather than address his comment. "I could do with some air."
"I know a place. Come on." His hand slid to the small of her back, herding her to one of the many offshoot hallways. Stella glanced over her shoulder as they neared the end of the hall, leaving the partying courtiers behind but in sight. "In here."
Gabriel threw the door open wide. A quick once-over showed the room to be quite plain—and without any occupants.
"I didn't realize there were, er, common rooms in this area of the court."
The pressure at her back increased. "Some sap lost it in a game of cards. It's become an unofficial smoking room."
Stella, who stole another glance at the safety of the crowd they were leaving behind, scrunched her nose as she looked back to Gabriel's room of choice. It certainly smelled like a smoking room. " This is where you thought would be a good place to catch our breath?"
The charming expression Gabriel wore flashed momentarily with ire. "Would you rather go to my room?"
Before a hasty refusal could make its way past her lips, Stella was somewhat forcibly ushered inside. She scowled at the treatment and whirled on Gabriel only to be greeted by a smarmy smile.
"You're… different." Gabriel's head cocked to the side. "I can't quite place what it is though."
"I'm not different. I'm just finally being me," Stella retorted, not bothering to mask her irritation thanks to the alcohol in her veins. Amusement leapt onto Gabriel's face.
"How fascinating," he purred and prowled closer. Stella stood her ground. Embers smoldered in the depths of her chest, readying to put Gabriel in his place with her sonic scream if need be. "This coming into your own—it wouldn't have anything to do with Raphael would it?"
The deliberate softness of his words threw Stella off guard. She gulped minutely before tipping up her chin to look down at him. "Why would you say that?"
"You mentioned he was to be your date tonight."
"So?"
Gabriel stopped within arms' reach. "Well, he's conveniently interrupted us on more than one occasion. Not long ago in the training room and then again in the Styx." He pointed out innocently. "Such attention made me wonder if something more isn't going on between you two."
A nervous sweat erupted on the back of Stella's neck. "No," she blurted out.
"So, there's no claim on you by Raphael then?"
The casual question was another curveball that left Stella dumbstruck. "Claim? No," she protested. "No, he didn't—we're not that ." Her hasty attempt to deny the fact only spotlighted her growing flustered state and confusion.
Stella wished she had one less glass of champagne.
"Good. While I'd love nothing more than to beat Raphael into the ground to settle my counterclaim, it does make things less complicated."
A frown tugged on Stella's eyebrows. "What is claiming exactly? By a demon's definition?"
A wicked smile lit up his face. "It's the exclusive rights to use a person." Stella stiffened.
" Use a person?"
"What can I say, once a demon finds someone they prefer to dine on, they don't typically like to share." Gabriel's smile deepened. "You know, Raphael once laid a counterclaim to your little she-wolf friend some months ago. However, since Astrid abandoned the court–the demon who claimed her originally—and then the she-wolf and raven shifter left as well, the claim became void."
Stella tried not to let the information unsettle her more than its initial blow but struggled. A counterclaim… for Bailey? For some reason, it felt like a hundred spotlights were on Stella and she couldn't escape their blinding focus.
"He shouldn't be allowed to lay claim or counterclaim given that he's a half-breed. Let alone claim fine and rare creatures in the court. First the only she-wolf, and now he's set his sights on you." Gabriel shook his head. "I suppose it's in the nature of any demon of lust, even half-breeds, to err on the greedy side. I can assure you though, I don't—"
"I'm not looking to be claimed."
Gabriel's smile tightened around the edges as if fighting to stay in place. "Of course, not. You're still looking for some household to claim—I mean, contract with, aren't you?" The invisible spotlights glared at Stella from every direction. "How's that going for you?"
"It's really none of your business," Stella said, pleased there was no quaver to her voice. She sounded strong… but she didn't feel that way. Not when the strange spotlights were starting to feel like actual eyes on her from the darkened corners of the room.
Stella stepped back and surreptitiously looked around. Plush red couches and black leather chairs furnished the space. Her eyes caught on one of the many oversized paintings of a hunter catching its prize. The dead fawn's eyes stared a hole right through her.
"Of course, of course… but just so you know, I do take good care of all my pets."
Gabriel stepped forward. Stella didn't hesitate to take two more back. He laughed, and Stella wasn't sure if it was her mind playing tricks on her or the champagne, but she swore muffled laughter drifted from the darkened corners as well.
"I'm not interested," Stella bristled. The embers in her chest ignited. Tender flames licked up the sides of her lungs, preparing for a fight as the sensation of something wrong—something off —settled further into the room.
"Calm down, Stella. You're like a scared little lamb, aren't you? Are you always so easily spooked?" He laughed again as he dug into his pocket and pulled out a small tin box. "Here, why don't you take one of these to help you relax."
"I don't need to relax. You can keep your little pills." She eyed the box with revulsion and then moved to go around Gabriel.
Stella made it a single step before a gasp tore from her throat and a far different set of flames encased her body.
"Come on, Stella. Take a pill." There was an edge to Gabriel's voice. A strain. Stella tried to focus on it, but his manipulation flared, and her desire spiked higher. She swayed, head spinning as she fought the sensations rising in her body.
"I said no," she managed to get out as his manipulation suddenly lessened by a few degrees.
"And I said take a fucking pill , Stella, then you won't say no at all."
Everything stilled around Stella as horrifying reality crashed down upon her. His manipulation wavered, dropping enough for Stella to retreat some more. "You do this to everyone, don't you? You drug them and you rap—"
"Ah, ah, ah," Gabriel interrupted. All vestiges of cordial interest vanishing to reveal his true face.
Before her stood a man with no understanding of emotion or conscience, only a sick obsession for complete control and power over others. An obsession that brought life to his eyes and spelled disaster for those who stood in its wake. Like Stella.
"I don't like to use the R word," Gabriel continued. "That's not what I do. You see, they take the pills of their own free will." He grinned, "In a manner of speaking that is. Just like you will. Just like you so desperately want to."
His manipulation came back tenfold, buckling once before choking Stella with desire and lust. She stumbled toward him despite her best efforts to resist.
"That's a good girl," Gabriel murmured. He opened the tin and held it out toward her. "Now... pick your poison."