25. Hellena

25

HELLENA

E van's energetic, charged.

Like he's poised and ready to strike as he drives us out of town, up into the hills.

"Seriously. Put on the blindfold."

"Hmm… No."

"The location is supposed to be a secret. The guests are all blindfolded."

"I'm not a guest."

"No, that's true. You're a pain in the ass ."

"You love my ass," I snip back.

"I really do. It doesn't argue with me about everything."

"Aw, you love my mouth too."

"Except for every other word out of it."

"Rude. Would you like it better if something went… in it?" I pop my lower lip out to accentuate the statement.

I hear his sudden inhale, that catch. "I was planning on telling you to have fun tonight. Let go."

He's toying right back, encouraging me to push the envelope, the boundaries. Not that I have any clue what his boundaries are most of the time.

"And will you let go, too?"

He doesn't answer, but his hands come off the steering wheel for a second, letting the car speed on, drift.

So I slip my hand over, sliding straight down the front of his pants, and grab him. His hands slam back down onto the wheel.

I'm bent over the console in a flash, unzipping him. Evan's already rigid and flexing for me as I pull him out, caressing my thumb over the head of his incredible manhood. "I promise I won't look where we're going."

"D-deal," he stammers.

"As long as you can last until we get there," I add, swallowing him whole.

"Fucking hell!" he grinds out, his entire abdomen caving as he shudders.

I'm not kind as I graze my teeth back up the shaft, sucking deeply and tonguing the underside of his shaft. Right at the top, I pucker my lips, whirling around the tip before I plummet back down, relaxing my throat, sending him past my gag reflex. My lips kiss the base of him, just pressing into the silky soft skin of his balls.

I sense his hand coming off the wheel to grab my head, and I make a sound, just a hum of "Nuh-uh-uh," and he slaps his palm back onto the wheel with an exasperated growl.

A slow drag back out, and I wrap my fingers around him, slick with my spit. Each finger rolls in a wave as I stroke up, massaging as I pull up, squeezing harder on the way down. I follow each jerk with my puckered mouth, letting go each time to bury him to the hilt.

He's shaking, legs clenched.

Every time he bottoms out, I feel a spasm of my own, a shiver of pleasure leaking out of me and soaking through my underwear.

The car bucks a couple of times, his foot spasming on the gas pedal.

"You're going to be the death of us…"

"Mmm," I hum as I speed up, ringing my thumb and forefinger around the throbbing base of his cock and squeezing hard.

"Dammit, let me touch you." I comply, sticking my ass up in the air, hiking up my skirt so he can reach around. His palm spanks my ass before sliding down my crack, brushing across another very sensitive area before slipping around the ruined fabric. The tips of his fingers orbit the slick folds around my cunt, driving me wild.

"W–we're almost there, I'm almost there, just?—"

I double down, bobbing and slurping from the middle up while I pump my fist in a brutal rhythm. His tight, gritty groan is my only warning before sticky, hot cum fills my mouth. " Hellena !" he bellows, unloading himself into my throat.

I glance up at him, watching him undulate and writhe in his seat, forcing his eyes to stay open and on the road as we careen along the mountain road at top speed.

With another moan and a twirl of my tongue, I suck down the rest of his exquisite cum, swallowing every drop of him. "Good thing I brought an extra pair of panties."

The car slows right in time with his heaving chest, and I sit back, wiping my lips with one finger and sucking it clean. The helpless grin pulling at his mouth has me sweating, aching for my turn.

"You really are a demon, you know that?"

I lick my lips in response, watching his eyes simmer with desire. He sucks in a deep breath, calming himself down before looking out the window.

"Welcome to the Colosseum."

"Holy shit, Evan," I whisper, leaning down to take in the front of the edifice, just coming into view as we round the last bend into the expansive driveway. It arcs up around a fountain to the front steps, topped with a lifelike marble statue of an angel and a demon gripped in the throes of passion, of violence. It's struggle, acquiescence.

It's a glaring representation of Evan's and my love affair, our tug of war.

"That's…"

"Not exactly us. We were the inspiration. It represents the Sinful, the battle within to do evil or good." He shrugs, like the entire spread of the building's front isn't an architectural masterpiece.

"Meaning that you…" I follow him out of the car as a valet swoops in to take Evan's place, removing the vehicle.

"Commissioned it, just a few weeks ago. Amazing work, a fellow out of Italy who owed me a favor. A big favor. The rest has been in construction for a couple of years. It was a real challenge keeping it discreet. Of course, there's nothing for miles out here."

I stare up and up and up. It's a modern Greek Parthenon.

Built into the side of a mountain.

"No one can see it from above, either drone or satellite," he brags, his hands in his pockets. "This place is going to be the center of everything. Not only the ball. Private retreats, shows."

Knowing Evan, there's more. Other plans, huge plans.

Shadows cut him in a stark relief, like he's one of the decorations, one of the sculptures. He's beautiful. Especially when he's in his element.

The sun is just starting to slip behind the mountains, dimming the alcove. Massive, underlit columns soar from the steps up into raw stone, framing windows, taller than any I've ever seen, at least four stories, an arched entrance in the center framed by statues and two hulking guards or doormen, dressed to match the gods holding up the doorway, wings extended behind them.

"Shall we? Some guests are already here. More will be arriving shortly." His mask is already in place. He's helping me tie mine on.

"Evan." My voice comes out strangled. Panicked.

"What's wrong?" He pulls me toward one of the columns, out of the walkway.

"I–I can't do this. I'm too nervous." It started low in my stomach, rising and making it hard to catch my breath.

"Just breathe, Hellena. You'll be fine."

"This is too much." Everything is narrowing. What was I thinking?

Evan pulls me in, resting his palms against my cheeks. "This is natural. Even I get nerves before a show."

"I—"

"Shh. Focus on me. Listen to my voice." Anyone else would think him unkind, cold. But I hear the subtle shift in his tone, commanding, with a hint of worry. "You know, I used to be just like you. Fury and anger were the only ways I knew how to express my passion on stage."

My body unwinds a fraction at his words.

"Passion has always been a double-edged sword for me. It led me into gymnastics, then dance, aerial, daring stunts on the wire. That same passion easily morphed into rage when confronted or teased for being in a "girl's sport". Those boys got the beating of a lifetime. They gave me one in return.

"Later, that streak of recklessness led to motorcycles, insane dares. Drunken races. But before that, it got me sent away from home. To boarding school. It's also what got me expelled." At this, he actually laughs, soft and nostalgic. But sad.

My shoulders loosen, his hands sliding down, thumbs massaging my neck.

"The same wild aggression got me kicked out of the first troupe that I met on the road when I ran away from home. I was sick of the constraints of my mother's rules and my stepmother's scathing tongue.

"As ridiculous as it sounds, I truly ran away to join the circus."

I feel my tummy quiver with a gentle chuckle and with the pins and needles from hearing more. This is the first time he's ever told me anything about his life.

"Even then, the violent creature in me would not be subdued. I didn't know how. Everything I tried, I was good at. But foolish. Angry. Careless. The same went for my lovers.

"My heart raged for love, male and female both, burning blistering and bright and smothering the affection just as quickly, forcing me to flee, to move on to the next explosion of emotion and intense spiritual investment. I shattered myself over and over."

Evan's eyes drift, far away, lost in the story. It's the most beautiful I've ever seen him.

"I hit rock bottom. Lost everything. Just like one of our clients, desperate and terrified."

"And the Sinful were there to offer you a way out."

"It's what they've always done. Desperate, out of control people want to be manipulated and coaxed with promises to relieve every one of their worries. It takes away their responsibility in their own misfortune.

"Take away their fears. Eliminate their lack of control, give them a sense of purpose without giving them the control, and you own them. I gave mine away all too easily, but it saved my life. Taught me to control myself. Forced me to."

"That's why you can't let go," I mutter, tracing my fingers around his eyebrows, exploring his face. "You can't even see that what makes you so powerful is what you think you need to remove."

The thought slips from me, a thought converted directly to words.

Evan's brow furrows, looking at me like he's never seen me before.

"Thank you. I feel better." I break the spell, noticing the shuttles parked at the steps letting out guests.

"Come on, you haven't even seen half of it." He snaps back to the cool fa?ade, the master of the ball. We queue into the line, Evan nodding to the two doormen who let us through without asking for tickets.

Inside, the atrium swoops up into a cavernous dome.

It takes me several seconds to sweep the room, the columns supporting the upper galleries, the alcoves and entertainment strewn throughout. It's overwhelming. Breathtaking.

The people entering the building around us are no less impressive. Outfits ranging from full ball gowns, to hoop skirts, to see-through gauze, spider web-like gowns that show off everything. Body paints seem to be the most popular theme, some guests only wearing see-through robes over their fully painted, nude figures.

The one thing they all have in common is that every single guest is wearing an elaborate mask, some to a theme, others simply an expression of art.

That anonymity is the foundation of the status quo of behavior for the evening. And it definitely helps keep the jitters at bay. I note a few people I almost recognize, and Evan nudges me, pointing to one guest.

"Make sure you don't get swindled into bed by a lusty politician tonight." Even I can tell it's the senator, my dance partner from a few weeks ago. "He really can't get you out of his head, you know."

"Oh, really?" I swat Evan's arm at the jibe.

"Oh, yes. You know, he offered me an absurd amount of money for a date with you."

My eyes widen. "You're joking."

"Not even a little bit, even if it is amusing."

"And what did you say?"

"No. Absolutely not."

"Just like that? Answering for me?" I can't help pushing back. "Not that I want to go on a date with an old politician, but why? Wouldn't that benefit you? Us ?"

He preens under my ire, smiling smugly. He knows I appreciate his protection and hate that he spoke for me at the same time. "Just the fact that he's obsessed gives us everything I need."

"Is that the only thing you need?" I slip out of my coat, handing it off to one of the butlers inside. Evan gasps loudly at my form, my crimson outfit rippling around me.

"Dark goddess…"

I can't help but grin from ear to ear at the nature of my mask, my whole costume. Ora's nickname for me really hits home, because tonight, I'm the demon, straight from hell.

My dress reflects the horns of my mask. The deep, blackish-red swaths of fabric dangle from my arms like wings, ethereal tentacles dancing around me. The strips leave my stomach and back bare, only crossing over my breasts, pulling them together seductively from my neck around to my lower back. From there it loops through the waist to dangle to the floor in the front and back, leaving my legs free, showing off the Roman strapped heels in shimmering blood red.

I could barely believe who I was looking at in the mirror at home, and it suddenly clicks why Gavin gave in.

I mean, I look irresistible.

He looks no less stunning, losing his coat to reveal his sleek black and gold tunic, tied sinisterly into his golden angel's mask. "Shall I show you around?"

"Please."

Tables line the walls around the main floor, spaced around soaring archways leading to nooks and dark corners where shadowed and colorful creatures chat, eat, and drink. They're already exchanging details, drinking, making deals, the true impetus of the gathering.

Some of the couples in those dark corners are clearly enjoying more than just a beverage.

Around the main arena floor, areas are designated more or less by a theme, fire-red and orange for pain, blues and whites for bliss, and several other modes centering around the seven deadly sins. Stages center each area, drawing the eye, performers embodying the sins, the urges of the guilty pleasure.

Off to the left, a floor to ceiling cage extends up forever, barring in a man and woman, twisting in mid air, suspended as they make love. Lust.

In one arena, a woman pleasures herself openly with toys, never sated. Gluttony.

And in another, two men lift each other in incredible feats of strength, both completely nude. Pride.

The menagerie of bodies and motion dazzles me, overstimulating.

We stroll along toward the back of the atrium, the pillars and arches leading the eye to the centerpiece of the colosseum. Between the two huge, sweeping staircases, a black-curtained stage crowns the view from everywhere in the building. The stage we'll be on soon.

"What do you think so far?" Evan muses, watching my rapt features.

"This is straight out of a dream." What strikes me more than anything is that so many people from Sanctum would be here at all, accepting and participating in such an evocative, risqué event. This is the true nature of Sanctum harbor and its citizens. "How did you pull all of this off?"

"Careful planning. Months of it. You helped with more of it than you know."

"Next year, I want to help you plan all of this. More ," I whisper, enraptured by every glittering sculpture, the performers, the art, and the stunning stonework. "If I'm still around, that is."

We've never actually discussed the length of term of my agreement. The way he looks at me, it seems like he hopes I will be.

Evan leans in, pressing his lips to mine, the only part of our faces showing. "I'll see you backstage in a bit. Feel free to mingle around for a bit, have some food. Just be careful. Everyone here is on the prowl ."

"Noted."

He shifts to my ear, whispering, "I meant what I said. Enjoy yourself tonight. Do whatever you want."

And with that he's gone, lost among the crowds.

Do whatever I want. Except Gavin's not here, and Tell isn't either. And we're set to perform in just under an hour.

Maybe he meant after the performance.. We'll find one of those little dark corners for ourselves. The idea thrills me, sets my heart racing.

Despite the vibrance and sexual tension in the air, everyone is contained to a degree. This party is all about decadence, but it's also about posturing, appearances. Even if most of the people wouldn't know their own mother in passing.

I mingle through, sipping a glass of blood-red champagne, content to observe.

At a quarter to six, a bell rings out, calling for attention. Above the stage, from the balcony, a voice rings out, matched to a golden outfit, a golden mask. He sings out, calling for order.

"Hear, pause in the midst of your revelry but a moment, we ask, to listen well to the words of the Herald, the Matron of the Ball!"

The crowd applauds, many of the rowdier guests whistling and cheering as a resplendent figure steps to the rail, raising her gilded arms. The rest of her is blinding, bedecked in gold from her goddess mask, concealing every feature, her entire head, to her layered gown.

Her voice is just as magnificent. Melodic, commanding. Hypnotic.

"Welcome to one and all, on behalf of your city's leadership. We are blessed by your presence tonight, as we are by your citizenship in Sanctum Harbor. This night, each year, is about absolution. A cleansing, a purging of sins, and desires running wild. Eat, drink, taste of the forbidden fruit!" she cries, and the music booms, a shower of smokeless fireworks and lights exploding over the gathering. The crowd goes wild, cheering, toasting.

I bask in the glow of the joy around me for a few more minutes, drinking in the mood and emotion, lingering on a few choice dancers in the arenas before I check the time. Franz still needs to paint me.

The floor lighting guides me around behind the stage to the side door, where a towering guard gives a once-over, then lets me inside. Everyone is there. My whole crew. Even Evan, looking positively otherworldly.

"Are you ready?" Nadia smiles, and a thrill rushes up my spine.