Chapter 38

Ididn't need to see the little girl swinging back and forth to feel the power rippling through the burlesque theater in waves. Had Drexel discovered my plan, he would have pulled her from the show. But his cockiness would be his downfall.

Every inch of my nerves rattled as the lights fell. Paesha ran off stage, locking eyes with me as she dipped her chin, still panting from her seductive performance. A silent good luck before the world could break. I'd avoided searching for Orin backstage, hoping if I didn't see him, he wouldn't see me. Both times I'd sat in the crowd, he hadn't been buried in the orchestra pit, but I couldn't help my glance around the thick, black curtain searching for those familiar, angry eyes.

I began walking to the center of the stage when a hand grabbed me. I whipped around, immediately on the defense, until I met Thea's giant green eyes framed by her pretty red hair.

"What are you doing here?" she hissed.

"Poor choice of timing," I answered, nerves so rattled that every heartbeat was a thunderous echo in my chest, each breath a chore.

"They have to clear the stage before the next act."

"I am the next act, Thea."

She stumbled backward, head snapping to some point across the space. "You can't be serious. What did you do?"

"Later," I said, ripping myself away from her strong hands to move to the center of the dark stage.

The soft murmurs of the crowd did not cease. A gasp did not come. I waited and waited until movement at my side caught my attention. Though nearly pitch black, a single light at the very back of the cavernous room had been left on, and I could just make out the shape of a giant hourglass being wheeled out. Thea's handiwork, no doubt. A man turned, showing only the white of his eyes as he grabbed a handle on the side of the contraption and spun, effectively starting my ten-minute timer before sneaking behind the curtain just as the final bit of light vanished. That's what Thea was worried about.

I sucked in a heavy breath, ready for the music to begin as the soft sound of sand falling accompanied my racing heart. But the spotlight never came, and the stage was too dark for the crowd to see me.

In shadows cast, can brilliance shine?

The fucking loophole. Of course, he didn't care if Quill was here. It wouldn't matter if they couldn't see me. Each grain of sand became a crackle of panic.

I wasn't a singer or a poet. I wasn't a dancer. Nor an actress with a grand soliloquy. I was just a desperate woman with no plan and a lonely heart. I ran to the side of the stage, halting at the very last second. Was I allowed to leave the stage? I couldn't remember. But it didn't matter because everyone behind the curtains was gone. Not a soul remained. I whipped around, facing the audience, who'd grown louder and impatient in the dark theater. Trying desperately, I could not make out a single face.

Minutes had passed, and the chokehold of the Maestro's grip on my destiny tightened until I could hardly breathe. I fell to my knees in a contraption of rubies made by an old man who'd shown me nothing but kindness. I squeezed my eyes closed, covering my ears, shutting out the groans of the crowd as I pictured the stage in my memory. Each step, each wrinkle in the black fabric curtains, each lamp, the golden birdcage showcasing the eventual capture of an innocent child.

Gods. The stage was encircled by a border of oil lamps. Oil. I crawled forward, hands outstretched, searching almost blindly for the edge. If I fell off, my fate was sealed. Several more minutes had already passed, though. Precious minutes. Gathering the lanterns as fast as I could, spilling the oil in an arc that ended at the base of the hourglass, I hustled. Ripping a small piece of the lace, I created a wick. Gathering my courage as adrenaline coursed through my body, I rested a hand on Chaos's pommel. The instructions were clear. I couldn't draw a weapon. The heels, though glorious and lethal in their own way, would do nothing for me. I had no flint. No metal at all. Only a slickened floor and absolute panic.

But that wasn't true. I did have metal.

Sending a prayer to whatever god would hear my plea, I wrapped a hand around a cluster of rubies trailing down my side, and screamed as I ripped the clasp free in one smooth motion, striking it upon the iron base of the hourglass. No spark. But the crowd fell silent.

Again, I struck. Again, I failed.

And though I felt alone, and like I was falling from a cliff, a single, glorious cello note pierced the stale air. I knew without looking it was him. As if I could feel him through our marriage bond, a heart as desperate as mine when he'd realized the stage was not empty.

The next spark was a perfect arch into damp fabric, igniting the entire stage in one fell swoop. I couldn't see beyond the burst of flames. Could hear nothing but the soft beginning of a single cello's lament. Because, though the orchestra had been ordered not to play, somewhere behind me, my husband had no such order.

A hush fell over the crowd as they drank me in, as they saw the desperate eyes of Death's Maiden standing upon a burning stage in woven rubies. Quill's magic pulsed like a heartbeat. One shared amongst friends. And so, I danced. Stretching my arms and trailing my hands over my body as I'd seen the women that commanded the stage do. The fire was my partner, an unpredictable and passionate companion. I had started it for light, but now it was a living entity, mirroring my every move, casting eerie shadows as the heat licked my legs, and I swung my hips, hoping I looked half as sensual as Paesha.

Floor crackling, fire spreading, I smoothed a hand across my collar bone, pretending the touch belonged to Orin. I spun, touching my breasts, keeping my chin down as if I were not afraid. As if the world were truly mine and I was in control. As if I coaxed the fear from the audience and molded it into sinful lust, daring them to want to touch me. To hear the sounds I would make, should they be brave enough to try.

I couldn't see the red-haired man in that special seat atop his theater. I couldn't hear the growl that had surely come from him. But I hoped he watched. I hoped he watched and every godsdamned vein in his body filled with ire as his precious stage burned because he'd tried to outsmart me.

That desperate act sat upon my soul as a giant fuck you. Turning the stage to ash pushed me onward as Orin's song grew in volume and tempo. I sauntered closer to the fire, feeling its warmth against my skin, a fierce contrast to the cool air that now seemed like a distant memory. The audience's faces were a blur, their sounds muted by the crackling inferno that stood between us. I reveled in the solitude of the flames, the sensation of being both isolated and connected.

My fingers brushed against the hourglass as I circled it, my touch gentle yet deliberate. I could feel the sand slipping away, each grain a fleeting moment in time. I danced. I danced for the people that had become my friends, but also for myself. Breaking free of the chains of a princess and the angry words of a mourning father. Of the glares from a fallen kingdom and the fear in that child's eyes on my wedding day. My body responded to the haunting music. My hips swayed in rhythm, a slow undulation. I spun and spun as gracefully as a sword fighter and threw my hands in my hair until the grains of sand had nearly vanished and the fire had grown from my ankles to my shoulders, concealing me. The music ended on a crescendo. I collapsed to the floor, breathless and spent.

And then they stood. From Quill's magic or a frenzied attempt to see over the flames and get another glimpse at Death's Maiden, I wasn't sure, but they stood. The applause erupted like a tidal wave, washing over me in a rush of sound. I had danced amidst the flames, a phoenix rising from the ashes of my own creation. It was a battle hard fought and barely won, but victory, nonetheless. I crawled from that stage, avoiding the eyes of the performers that ran to extinguish the fire.

"I think it's fair to say there won't be a show tomorrow night," Paesha said. She handed me a robe with far more coverage than the one I'd been given from Hollis as I climbed the steps from the tunnel into the warehouse, holding my broken outfit in place as best I could.

"Probably a good thing," Thea said, pointing behind me.

I didn't have to look to know who she'd seen, but I was a glutton for punishment, spinning to stare directly into the angry face of Orin Faber, storming forward with a permanent scowl and a glare that might've set the stage to flame without the production I'd needed.

"What the fuck have you done?"

Closing my arms over my chest, I leveled a stare. "Too many things to recall. Keep up, Husband."

He moved so close I could feel his rapid heartbeat as if it were my own. His eyes dipped low, mouth falling open, and I reveled in the way he stared, knowing he wanted to hate it, but he couldn't.

"Eyes up here."

He ripped his jacket off and wrapped it around my shoulders, gripping the lapel to yank me close. "You forget, Nightmare, you belong to me."

"I'm no one's property," I managed, though the words were a struggle beyond the way I'd needed him to touch me, to ease this ache within my body that truly did belong to him.

"We will discuss this at home."

"Looking forward to it."

Quill had fallenasleep on the couch, snuggled up with Boo as she'd waited for Orin, like the rest of us.

"I still can't believe you guys didn't tell me," Thea said, closing the book she'd been trying to read for an hour. "I could've helped."

"For the thousandth time, you did help," Paesha said, scooping her arms under the sleeping child. "Come on, mutt."

Thea gasped. "Don't call him that. He's a good boy."

"Consider it a term of endearment," she threw over her shoulder as the sleepy dog slunk off the couch and followed her up the stairs.

"Soon," Hollis said, following my eyes to the clock. "He's got to work his anger out before he gets home. Just be patient."

I should have followed him. I knew what was coming. I'd hardened myself the entire trip back, as Paesha explained the bargain in detail to Althea. She'd tried to remain optimistic, but they'd never witnessed anyone escape the clutches of the Maestro, so the worry on all their faces was warranted. I hadn't seen his trick tonight coming, and now I'd have to be more prepared for the next show. Whenever that might be.

The Huntress no more than sat back down on the couch before the front door slammed open. The squelch of boots stomping through the entryway toward the sitting room matched the looks we each passed as we waited for Orin to join us.

"Son," Elowen said, standing immediately.

"Everyone out," he answered.

"Orin." Paesha stood.

He shook his head. "No. Don't start with me. You were in on this. What the fuck were you thinking?"

She moved to stand toe to toe with the furious man. "The only person I loved enough to sell my soul to the devil for was Ezra. And that took years. I never tried to save my father. Your mother. Not even you. So don't you dare stand there and berate her for loving us all enough to sacrifice everything. We don't deserve her. We captured her and hated her and would've taken turns with a shovel in the graveyard. But don't you forget that you chose to marry her, even with all that history. Don't forget that you brought her here, locked her in this house, and have made life hell for her ever since." She placed her hands on his chest and shoved, a break in her voice as she continued. "I don't know what's happening to you. I see the anger taking over more and more. There's darkness creeping through your veins, and you're mean. Deyanira is not dangerous, Orin. You are."

She pushed away from him and stormed up the stairs. Ever the warrior. I stood in my corner, though her words had left me in a state of shock. Somewhere along the lines, a friendship had bloomed between us. Maybe her mourning soul recognized my lonely one. And maybe she'd actually just been really good at her job as a Huntress, and she'd captured me, just as the Maestro wanted. But she hadn't wavered since the moment we'd rescued Quill all that time ago. And Orin had done nothing but brood.

Thea quickly hustled out of the room, followed by Hollis, and though Elowen stopped to rest her hand on her son's trembling arm, she averted her eyes and scurried down the hall.

"You have to get out of it." His voice was low and threatening, every bit the tone I'd expected.

"I think we both know that's not a possibility."

"Why do you absolutely insist on doing everything I explicitly ask you not to do? You were supposed to stay away from him. He's fucking dangerous."

I rose. "So am I. Do you think I wanted to do this? I went into that office to kill him, and he dangled Quill in front of me. He used her to keep me from murdering him, and I had to do something. Paesha thinks I'm trying to save you for love, but she's wrong. I'm doing it because it's the right thing to do. Because despite the way you hate me, I still think you're worth saving. You gave the rest of your life for me, but I don't fucking want it."

I shifted just in time to see him pull the blade. He shouted in anger, eyes never leaving mine as he whipped the dagger through the air, slicing right past my head as it stuck into the wall.

"You are such a tantrum-throwing child."

Ripping his blade free, I mimicked his motion, letting the blade fly as it shot directly between his legs and clattered to the floor of the hall behind him.

His eyes lit in defiance as I stepped around the coffee table and brushed past him. He snatched my wrist, whipping me around until I was close enough to see the tips of the black veins creeping up his neckline. A breath caught in my throat, a momentary distraction as he moved like a predator, grip firm until my back collided with the wall.

There was so much fire and passion in everything he did. Orin's hand loosened, fingers trailing down my arms in an inferno that left me yearning for him to touch me somewhere else. Anywhere else. I don't know if it was the fact that we'd both silently decided this would never be a real marriage, or because of how hot the hatred burned when we let it, but there was something keeping us right here, stuck in a moment that we weren't strong enough to walk away from.

He gripped the side of my face, eyes searching mine for permission or hesitation. I wasn't sure. I grabbed his wrists, boldly slipping into a place I couldn't escape from. His dark lashes fell to his cheeks as he seemed to breathe me in, broad shoulders lifting and falling as my knees weakened. I wasn't sure if I should kiss him or stab him.

Instead, I warned him. "I will never be a compliant wife."

He leaned close enough I had to tilt my head back to look at his brutally handsome face. "I would expect nothing less."

"Don't tell lies, Orin. It's not an attractive trait."

He smoothed a thumb over my bottom lip. "Maybe I don't want you to be attracted to me. Maybe I'm the monster in disguise, and my anger is to protect you… from me."

"I don't need to be protected from someone I am not afraid of."

His hand slid down until the heartbeat in my neck throbbed against his palm. His fingers tightened. "Are you flirting or fighting with me right now, Deyanira?"

"Neither. I'm simply standing here, willing to face your demons rather than back away and leave you alone with them. I know them as intimately as you do. There's madness within the darkness you're hiding, isn't there?"

"Yes," he said quietly. Fiercely. "And I think it's you, the way you consume me. You are the darkness."

I shook my head, smiling. "No, Husband. I am the abyss that calls to your shadows, the tempest that matches your storm. We are not mere darkness, we are the symphony of our scars."

He leaned his forehead to mine, holding my gaze steady within his own. "Two sides of the same coin."

I could not answer. Could hardly swallow over his tight grip on my throat. Minutes passed by. Years even, locked in that moment with him. His lips were inches from mine. His solid body pressed into me, as if he could not get close enough. My skin hummed with desire. Each second building an ache low in my belly until the tension between us swelled to an immeasurable degree.

Do it, I begged him silently. Kiss me, you damn fool. End the agony.

But instead, he pushed away, the war between madness and sanity returning. "End your deal with the Maestro. Find something else to offer him. Give him the fucking world, Deyanira. But do not give him yourself. You had no right to make that bargain. You already belong to me."

And with that, he stalked out of the room, snatching the dagger from the floor as he went.