Chapter 6

AFTER OUR STRANGE DANCE and even stranger evening, Deion ushers me out of the ballroom as promised. I know we're only leaving so I don't have the opportunity to dance with Lord Oren. Evander stays behind to supervise the party and manage the security team posted about the room, so it's just Deion and I, making our way through the halls.

"Did you enjoy the party?" He asks from beside me.

My eyes slide to him. He's staring forward, his face stony. I realize this isn't genuine interest in whether I had fun. No, after the conclusion of our conversation on the dance floor, King Nephus is furious and ready to throw a tantrum. I decide to play coy.

"I had a great time," I say, letting a light smile touch my lips. "Everyone was so lovely. Especially Lord Oren. It's a shame I ignored his countless requests for me. Who knows? If I'd responded to him, I could be in his palace right now instead."

To my surprise, he doesn't take the bait, instead nodding slowly and remaining silent.

The silence stretches on from half a minute to a full minute. Then another minute passes. The only sounds are the echoes from the party growing quieter as we walk, and our soles tapping against the marble floors. In fact, we stay quiet so long that I'm sure the conversation is over. 

Then, without warning, he says, "Hopefully the Coven leaders enjoy their execution tomorrow as much as you enjoyed this party. Tell me, Estrella," his lips curve into a smile void of warmth, eyes cold enough to wilt roses. "What do you suggest? Something old-fashioned? Burning at the stake, perhaps? Or we can be modern with a firing squad—"

Blind rage surges through me. My footsteps halt, and the palm of my hand cracks across Deion's cheek, whipping his head to the side.

SLAP.

The sound echoes off the walls then leaves us in a suffocating silence.

As his head turns back towards me, slow and eerie, regret settles in my stomach thick and lingering. Judging by the dark look in his eyes, not only have I doomed the Coven leaders… I've doomed myself.

His eyes are a brewing storm of every negative emotion conceivable as he processes what the hell just happened, and whether or not he should kill me where I stand. I doubt anyone has ever been directly violent towards him. They wouldn't dare since he happens to be the most powerful being on this planet and–

Deion's hand surges forward, encircling my throat. My attempts to break free prove futile as he walks me backward in three forceful strides. My back collides with the wall. Air pushes from my lungs in a shuddering exhale, stifled by his firm grip constricting my windpipe—just enough to hinder my breath but not entirely cut off the air.

His gaze dissects my expression, his flared nostrils and heaving chest betraying his anger. I'm not sure what he sees on my face, but I reach out to my own rage, hoping I can project courage instead of the icy terror coursing through my veins.

Our lips meet in a sudden collision.

I clench my mouth closed, trying to turn my head to the side to escape this insane kiss. 

King Nephus is a mad erratic man. One minute he's choking the life out of me, the next his lips are on mine, domineering but oh so soft. 

He pulls back and gives me a dark look. "This is your chance for redemption," he says, words rumbling in his chest pressed against me. "Kiss me back like you mean it or I make good on my threats."

His lips seize mine once more before I can tell him to go fuck himself. Closing my eyes, I try to relax. I try to kiss him back, despite it feeling mechanical. I despise him so much it's impossible to conjure up any positive feelings for him. Despite the momentary warmth during the party–fueled by wine and enchanted notes– he just threatened the lives of my fellow Witches. The hate for him is back in full force. The fire within me rages, begging for release.

I pour its energy into the kiss.

My lips glide over his. Deion's hand slips from my throat and drops to my waist so he can pull our bodies together as close as possible as if to consume me completely. I taste him, swiping my tongue over his until his evening of dark liquor mixes with my wine. When I bite at his lip as hard as I can, instead of jumping back in pain, he groans into my mouth.

He demanded I kiss him back, so I'm surprised when he's the first to break away. In fact, he practically pries me off his lips and takes a long step backward.

We're both breathless. His eyes are wide with wonder. 

I turned the tables on him, and now he's the one who's lost control. I rocked his fucking world.

A wrinkle deepens between his brows, and he looks away. "Go."

I don't know where he expects me to go. I don't have a grasp on the palace layout, but I don't want to miss this opportunity to escape his unhinged presence. Deion exudes a suffocating power that feels electric. It presses down on me from every side.

My feet carry me off towards a random direction.

Once I'm out of his sight, I can't help but smile to myself, even as my heart pounds against my ribcage.

That was… thrilling, to say the least.

I just slapped King Nephus across the face. Then kissed him. Then left him speechless.

He may be the most powerful man in the world, but he's no match for the things I can make him feel. Alya was right when they said I'm in a powerful position. I just have to figure out how to leverage it.

After a few rights and lefts and down some stairs, I find myself back in the courtyard from my first dinner with Deion. Now, without him dominating my attention, I can truly appreciate the beauty. 

I slip my shoes off and pad barefoot off the stone path into the plush grass. The cold dewy blades moisten the bottom of my feet as I walk deeper into a maze of night-blooming flower bushes, running my fingers over their petals. The little floating lights of Fairies dance around my hands. They hover near the Suppressor bracelet, tug at my sparkling bracelets, and brush past my necklace. They want the cute sparkly things adorning me, and while it's tempting, anyone who is smart knows to never give Fairies a gift.

The bushes open into a maze in which I allow myself to get lost. I pass an alcove with a seating area and fountain of ethereal shimmering water. I pause to dip my hand in the water, and the shimmer clings to my fingers.

This Realm is so enchanting and beautiful, yet impossible to enjoy with the war Deion has been waging.

When I emerge from the maze, I'm rewarded with a view overlooking the city with only a stone railing that stops me from tumbling down the steep edge.

The Ash Territory. Also known as the City of Ash. My "home" for the last three years. It's so different from the lush, sunny plains I grew up on where we grew our own food, gathered under full moons, and lived so freely.

This city is all harsh glass, and sharp edges with skyscrapers stabbing towards the heavens. It's all work and money and corruption.

I can even see the high rise where I've lived for three years under the guidance of Lady Genevieve. Just three years ago I arrived there caked with blood, exhausted, and tears streaming down my face. My powers were out of touch, my moms were gone, and soldiers pushed me out of a van with all the other Witches they'd captured that night. I remember being so scared thinking we were being taken to prison, or worse, an execution. They'd had to drag me kicking and screaming because I refused to go down with a fight.

Dumped on her doorstep, Lady Genevieve ushered me inside. She'd always been firm, but kind. I know deep down she felt bad for us, but at the same time, she also knew that dwelling on our situation would not help. The very next day, we began training. She taught us well, and most of the Courtesans who pass her doors get Sponsored by someone wealthy or buy their freedom faster than normal.

Perhaps she knew what she was doing when she made me come here and ensured the King met me.

This all can't be for nothing. I need to play his game. 

Even if it means losing myself, others will gain so much more.

With a sigh, I reach behind me and unclasp the necklace from behind my neck. The bracelets and tear-drop earrings follow. Then I free my hair from this stupid hairstyle Deion apparently likes so much.

It takes a while to get the bobby pins and hair ties disentangled from my curly locks. Relief floods me when my wild curls finally fall freely to my shoulders. I shake them out and scratch my scalp. The cool night breeze tugs at my hair, and brushes against my bare shoulders. My flesh prickles. While the dress is long, it's still chilly with my arms and chest so exposed.

"What are you doing out here?" I'd recognize that bored drawl anywhere. I toss a glance over my shoulder to see Evander striding towards me. His tie hangs loosely around his neck, the top buttons of his black shirt undone. The wind whips at his jacket, and I catch a brief flash of two guns holstered beneath it. It's like as soon as he leaves parties he can't wait to get out of his stuffy suits. We have that in common. My shoes lie somewhere by the doors, and bobby pins litter the ground next to the shiny jewels.

When he reaches me, he says, "I've been looking everywhere for you."

"I got lost," I say, turning back to the city spread below me. "It's nice out. Please don't make me go back inside yet." I grip the stone railing as if he plans on dragging me away. It's not something I'd put past him.

He lets out a heavy exhale and settles beside me. "Fine. Ten more minutes. I don't have all night." He leans his forearms against the stone railing, his blue eyes surveying the city as well. I try, and fail, to not trail my eyes over the taut muscles of his arms.

"Evander?"

"What." He answers in an exasperated tone like I'm a toddler in their "why" phase. Still, he drags his eyes to me, waiting for me to continue. It's the first time he's directly looked at me all night.

"Why do you mask who you are all the time?"

Evander isn't the conversational type. Everything I say annoys him, so I'm shocked when he answers without pretense. "I hate being a Vampire," he admits. "I never asked to be Turned, and I hate what I am now." After a long look at me, he returns his attention to the city.

A silence settles between us until he continues, "The thing you said about feeling like most of you is trapped in a cage just beyond your reach… that's how I feel, too. That's how I've felt every single day for half a century," he explains. "Hiding my eyes, my speed, whatever I can, is my feeble attempt to reach that part of me. My humanity."

My voice comes out barely above a whisper. "Think we'll ever get to be ourselves again?"

"No," he says. "Not me anyway. This is my eternity unless someone blesses me with the sweet relief of death." He chuckles darkly, and I realize it's some sort of macabre joke. Evander doesn't actually want to die, but I'm sure he wonders if it could be better than what he's going through now. As harsh as it can be, I appreciate Evander's brutal honesty.

"I think you can be yourself again someday." We fall into silence again. It's comfortable. The wind picks up again, and I shiver involuntarily.

With a sigh, Evander shrugs off his jacket. But he doesn't slide it onto my shoulders like something out of a romance movie. He tosses it over my forearms. Still, I'm grateful and slip into it, the long sleeves engulfing my hands.

I smile up at him, even though he refuses to look at me. "Thank you."

"Shut up," he says. "The King wouldn't be happy if I let you get sick. I'm tired of looking at that pornographic dress, anyway."

"Really?" I say, giving him a coy smile. "Because you couldn't keep your eyes off my chest earlier tonight."

He snorts. "Your flirty little Courtesan tactics won't work on me. And I'm not impressed by something as simple as a nice rack."

I turn towards him. "So you agree my rack is nice?"

Evander purses his lips, eyes dipping towards the rack in question. "I've seen a lot in my long eternal cursed existence so far. Plenty. I'm not swayed by a cute face and some curves, so don't try the tactics with me, Courtesan."

"Most men find I can be very persuasive, especially the immortal ones."

"You're playing dangerous games with dangerous people."

I arch a brow. "Who says it's a game? Perhaps I find your whole brooding bleeding heart Vampire vibe irresistible."

For a moment, his features soften, and he almost smiles. Then all at once his face hardens once more. "You're drunk. Let's go."

  He turns on his heel and walks off, shaking his head to himself.