V

A nnette Delacroix was a monster. She was cruel, cold-spirited, and had the tongue of a viper—all of which she took immense pride in. The buxom beauty relished in her royal status and bared her fangs to any she deemed deplorable or unfashionable. She stuck her nose up in the air any time the D word was spoken.

Raphael also knew she loved to use his horns like handlebars to guide his attentions as he dined on her sopping cunt. A smirk tipped up the side of his mouth. It was just one of the many secrets he kept for one of his top-paying customers.

"I'm afraid I won't be able to see you for at least a month," Annette told him as she fixed her dark-brown hair in the mirror situated near his apartment door. Raphael leaned against the wall near the door's frame, observing her with contrived interest as she fussed about her appearance.

"You wound me," Raphael drawled. Annette's eyes didn't stray from the mirror's reflection. "Don't tell me you've found a better lover."

"Never, darling. My social calendar is merely booked out until the middle of June. You understand, don't you?"

"Of course," Raphael replied and noted with silent amusement the way her chin jutted out in mild irritation. Annette adored being adored. She thought herself a gift to those she deemed worthy to share her bed. Raphael's polite and unaffected reply would sit with her for nights.

And if such thoughts led her back to his bed sooner, his bank account would certainly be the first to thank him.

"I'll contact you." Annette tugged up her hood and sashayed toward him and the door. "Don't miss me too much," she cooed. Her hand shot out and latched onto his crotch. Raphael grunted, nostrils flaring and teeth grinding as he locked eyes with her. Annette smiled and squeezed. "Until next time, lover."

Her eyes lingered over his neck and Raphael fought not to tense up anymore. Raphael was allowed to feed off Annette, but not the other way around. It was in their contract. He swallowed thickly regardless.

With a self-satisfied smile, she exited his apartment with vampyric speed; the door snapping shut behind her.

"Bitch," Raphael seethed as he readjusted himself with a wince.

Once the pain of his assault faded, he walked straight to his bar and poured himself a shot of vodka. He relished the burn of the alcohol as it rushed down his throat.

A courtier could support themself several ways in the Dark Court. One could sell magical goods and wares or fight in the pits for glory and gold. Others offered niche services, such as the Wildings crude "delivery" service, or oracle guidance from one of the sorcerer clans. Then there was the tried and true, selling one's body or blood, or both.

Most vampyrés preferred relying on fortunes built over the centuries to withstand their stay. And Raphael knew of many supernaturals at court who relied on business ventures outside the court's walls to fill their bank accounts.

A scowl fixed itself upon his face momentarily. There'd been no such opportunity for him or his sister in their last life to secure such funds, let alone make enough money to live above the poverty line.

He rolled his shoulders back, reminding himself that that life was well in the past; dead and buried six feet under an unmarked grave. Raphael took a deep breath as old resentments and loathing lit like kerosene in his veins. Then he took another and held it in his chest until it felt like he might burst.

His exhalation came out in a gust and left his lungs heaving for precious air.

"Enough," he hissed at himself; fist slamming down on the bar top. Crystal glasses rattled from the force. Raphael's gaze stuck on the drinkware engraved with a cursive R at the bottom of each glass. They'd been a gift from one of his first clients.

He frowned as he tried to remember her name and visage but couldn't summon her face or moans to the forefront of his mind. Whoever she was, hadn't made the cut to his final five private client list.

They all ran together to Raphael. Every reaction to his touch was the same. The blown-out eyes. The lusty submissions. The eager spreading of legs.

There was nothing to it.

And while to his clients he was a marvel of pleasure, they were nothing more than bank notes to him.

But something had shifted in Raphael that changed the game and allowed him to enjoy his job more. Back in February, he gradually learned how to gain control over the potency of his touch. Where once a featherlight kiss upon a client's skin sent them careening toward raptures, now Raphael was able to make an encounter last all evening. Or daylight, as four of his clients preferred, without worrying he'd "bliss out" his partner.

Raphael's memory stirred at that, along with other parts of his anatomy. There'd only been one person who'd lasted his unabbreviated attention for hours on end: Bailey Hart. Pleasuring the she-wolf had been an unexpected delight. He had enjoyed their banter as well.

What had not been delightful was learning that she'd used him as some means to an end to get in bed with Ronan Corvina. Raphael scoffed and stalked down the hall toward his ensuite bathroom for a scalding shower. Learning they were soulmarks after their abrupt exit from court did little to assuage the bitter pill of the she-wolf's rejection. However, it did lessen whatever guilt he might have felt from feeding off her as she came shaking in his arms.

Raphael showered quickly, mindful of the other appointment he was meant to keep with the banshee. His eyes rolled upward at the thought of the timid creature.

They were meeting at the bathhouse at dawn. She claimed it was to maintain a certain amount of privacy while remaining in a public space that would ensure her safety. Raphael almost snorted as he recalled the missive he received from her detailing her request—nay demand, for their meeting.

Clever girl , he thought regardless.

Raphael was certain he could have gotten away with drowning her that dawn had he not made such a grievous error the other day of their bet. Being seen so openly with her in the Styx would leave an impression in the courtiers' minds. They were too different, even by supernatural standards, not to.

Then there was the matter of the vampyré Jasmine who acted as witness to their bet. Killing Stella discreetly required him to maintain a plausible distance from her that would make anyone hesitate to name him as the culprit.

It complicated matters, but Raphael wouldn't allow it to derail him.

By the time he dressed in a casual pair of slacks and crewneck sweater, he'd settled on a new plan of action. Whatever advice Stella was so desperate to have from him, he would pollute to ensure she got herself killed… and he would be nowhere in sight when the fateful incident occurred.

A smile stayed on his lips as he left his apartment. It only grew as he recounted the piece of information Annette let slip while they were together. The edict restricting the sorcerer population—kept in place due to lingering suspicions of dark magic practice—would most likely be overturned in a matter of weeks. Mostly thanks to something the eles clan had collected.

The news would please many, and Raphael knew at least a dozen courtiers who would pay a premium to have the information first. But as tempting as making some extra cash or credit at court sounded, he was settled on sitting on the news until the opportune moment arose.

"Where are you off to at this hour, demon ?" A voice called from behind.

Raphael stopped and turned. "Out for a stroll. I'd ask you the same, but given the hour, I'd say it's well past time for you to be safely locked inside, sorcerer ."

Jax smirked as he strolled up to him. "Prick."

"I aim to please."

Jax slapped him on the back, ushering him in the direction he'd been heading. "Did you enjoy your evening with the lovely Annette?"

"I always enjoy the evenings where I'm paid handsomely to fuck. A man's got to have pride in his work, wouldn't you agree?"

"You're unbelievable." Jax shook his head good-naturedly.

"D'ya know, that's what all my customers say to me. ‘Oh, Raphael, you're unbelievable. Oh! '" The pair laughed, then walked on, side by side, in silence. Raphael couldn't help but think under different circumstances they would have been best mates.

The thought wasn't new. It had crossed his mind several times as their faux friendship solidified and deepened over weeks and months. Jax saw beyond Raphael's horns and the work he did. He made life tolerable at court, fun even. But Raphael didn't want tolerable and fun. He wanted security for himself and his sister, and Jax was a critical piece in ensuring that happened.

It was another complication in a way because a decided guilt had started to plague him when brainstorming ways to sabotage Jax's attempts to save Irina.

If you were a full demon, your conscience wouldn't be a problem.

Raphael held back a sigh.

At least the ranas made his job simpler. Long before he'd entered the picture, Jax's resentment of the ranas had been brewing. He thought they disapproved of his pursuit of magical knowledge and his opinion on court politics too loud. That, combined with his already over-inflated sense of self and Ronan's "abandonment", made his mission all the easier.

Jax's ego is the key , Raphael thought, and with the right push and encouragement —

"Where are you really going?" Jax asked.

"I thought I might go down to the Commons and find a book to read."

Raphael caught Jax nodding out of his peripheral and subtly swept his gaze up along his jaw to his temple where a vein was surfacing. He let his regard flick to Jax's hand holding his walking cane. His knuckles were white.

"How was your night, seeing as I was too occupied to keep you company in your mad scientist lab?"

Jax immediately reached into his pocket and retrieved a folded piece of paper. "I got a letter."

"Ronan?" Raphael inquired, keeping an edge to his tone. Jax shot him an appreciative look, jaw still tense as he shoved the letter back in his pocket and huffed.

"I swear, every single letter I've received recently is more self-righteous and patronizing than the last. Apparently, finding your soulmark turns you into a complete and utter fuckwit." Raphael's eyes widened in genuine surprise. He was aware of the growing strain on their friendship, but this level of anger was new—and extremely promising.

"What did he say?"

"That I'm messing with powers I could never hope to understand. I'm being reckless. Oh, and that my negativity is starting to interfere with his relationship with Bailey." Jax's chin jutted out as he ground his teeth.

"That's absurd."

"I'm aware," Jax snapped.

Raphael held up his hands. "Whoa, I'm on your side, remember?"

Jax blew out a frustrated breath. "Sorry, man. I'm just… I don't know. I'm over it. We didn't leave on the best of terms, but it wasn't the worst either. Now it's all falling apart, down some hill and off a cliff—" Jax laughed bitterly "—and there's nothing I can do or say to stop it. And I've tried, but I don't think he has."

Raphael stayed silent for a moment, pondering his next words. "Maybe it's best if you let the situation cool off a bit. You never know what gets lost in the translation of things. Maybe he wasn't trying to be an awful prick."

Jax laughed. "Maybe."

"Or he's too pussy whipped to be relied on. Best to give the situation some space."

"Yeah, I guess."

Raphael bit back a triumphant smirk. "Any good news to share? Or more of the depressing stuff?"

The tension riding in Jax's body evaporated. Excitement lit his eye and brought to surface Raphael's own. It was the Jax effect.

"Can you keep a secret?" Jax questioned seriously.

Raphael scowled at him. "You know I can."

He'd proven himself trustworthy long ago, and it irked him to be questioned now. Raphael chose to ignore the whisper of a voice in his head that called him a hypocrite.

Jax laughed again. "I was joking. Of course, I can trust you. We got the grimoire open."

Raphael stopped in his tracks, then made a point to scan the hall before replying. "Mate, that's bloody incredible. Did you find what you were looking for? Can you fix her?"

"I haven't found anything yet," Jax replied. He kept his voice near a whisper, but it couldn't mask his giddiness. "I started going through it the other night before I had to hand it over to aldora so she could take a turn. I should get it back tomorrow though." Raphael filed the information away. "From what I saw, several parts are encrypted, so it may take me some time to crack, but this is it. This is it , Raphael. This is the answer to all my problems. With the grimoire, I'll be able to reverse Irina's curse and prove to the entire family all my work and research hasn't been for nothing. They'll see it was all worth it."

That won't do at all.

Raphael sculpted his features into the reaction Jax expected: genuine enthusiasm. "Of course, they'll see."

They'll see you royally screw up after I ruin whatever you come up with .

Raphael clapped his upper arm and grinned widely. He let his fervor shine through his gaze, even as cold pinpricks of guilt peppered his body. "You're brilliant, mate."

Jax's eye darted briefly to Raphael's bare hand on his sleeve. Raphael let it drop slowly, along with his feigned excitement.

"I didn't mean—"

Raphael cut Jax's excuse off with a shake of his head and forced his grin back up. "Hate to break it to you, but I don't swing that way." Raphael pat Jax's cheek mockingly, making sure to completely reign in the potency of his manipulation. It left him momentarily light-headed. Jax scoffed and then spread out both arms wide.

"I'm a catch. You'd be lucky to have me."

"Piss off."

Jax tossed his head back and laughed. "I'll see you around. Let's get together soon, all right?" He agreed and the two parted ways.

Raphael made quick work of the journey then to the bathhouse. There was little in the way of courtier congestion given the hour, though as he readied to ascend to the third subfloor, he ducked out of view to avoid the stumbling collective of shifters retiring from the Cellar Bar.

He scrunched up his nose at their thundering laughter and tasteless manners as they pushed and shoved at one another. They passed without noticing him, half hidden by the shadows.

Once they were out of sight and ear shot, he contemplated traveling the rest of the way by the Ether, but, as usual, the idea held little appeal. Raphael wasn't particularly adept at traveling it. Besides, the natural environment of the Ether didn't appeal to him. It was made of nothing more than icy shadows and misty dusk that never failed to make Raphael queasy and disoriented.

Other demons—the majority—preferred the Ether to travel undetected. To spy and manipulate events from the near yet far plane, by peering through the mist and shadow into the land of the living.

Raphael moved on from his hiding spot and reached the bathhouse without further incident. Ducking into the men's changing room, he swapped his clothing for a towel.

"Come out, come out, wherever you are," he murmured as he prowled the main gangway. Raphael peered into the various rooms he passed to find the familiar head of white hair that was his moment's vexation.

A wicked grin stretched his lips. "Found you."

On silent feet he approached the arched entry to the suite of hot springs. Six small springs, roughly the same in size, were spaced well apart from one another in the domed room. Stella waited for him at the farthest spring raised slightly higher than the rest in the back. She spotted him immediately.

Raphael took in her appearance in the low, warm lighting, as he made his way toward her, and found what he saw pleasantly attractive. The humidity of the springs gave her hair a soft curl, and the water's warmth brought a natural flush to her skin. Raphael cocked his head, eyeing the simple black one-piece she wore. He'd rather she'd chosen to enjoy the spring naked… like him.

"You're late," she stated, voice helplessly husky from all her shrieking. Her blue eyes narrowed as he came to the spring's edge.

"My apologies." Raphael let his hands unwind the towel at his waist. Stella averted her gaze with a barely hidden gasp as soon as she gleaned what he wasn't wearing underneath. Immediately a myriad of curses filled her head for showing such a reaction.

"Really?" She whined.

Raphael climbed into the spring, sighing in pleasure as he submerged completely. Stella was staring at him as he emerged, her expression murderous.

"What?" He asked innocently as he brushed back the wet strands of his hair. He waded toward her. "The pools are meant to be enjoyed this way—" He gestured to himself "—not like that ." As he flicked his wrist toward her, water droplets hit her in the face. Raphael bit back a snigger as she flinched. "So, shall we discuss the matter of your prize?"

Raphael sat next to her, relishing in the way Stella tensed at his nearness.

"Ye-yes," she stammered as they locked eyes.

He smiled then. A thrill of anticipation ran through him as her shoulders rose defensively and she shrank back. She was wary of him—and she should be. Maybe , Raphael thought, it will be your death day after all.

"Let's begin."