Curse of the Fallen by Eve Archer

Chapter Twenty

Ella

The first time I’d been in an Epicurus club, I’d been too overwhelmed to stay long. Sara had dragged me to the New York location, and despite her putting me in a skimpy dress and too much makeup, I’d felt out of my league. The second time I’d been to one of Dominick’s clubs had been in Venice, and I’d again felt way out of my depth. Just as I did now. The one big difference was that now I could add furious to the swirl of conflicting emotions warring inside me.

Mateo had insisted that I dress up, and his version of dressed up for a nightclub was sexy verging on slutty. I stole a quick glance at the shimmery, gold dress that fell from thin spaghetti straps on my shoulders and barely reached mid-thigh. It wasn’t skintight, but the neckline plunged so low that I hadn’t been able to wear a bra, not to mention the low drape in the back that threatened to show the crack of my ass. My protests had been ignored, and even though Anthony had apologized for his brother, he hadn’t offered me an alternative dress.

I clenched my jaw as we stood in the entrance of the nightclub. There was one advantage to my dress. No one would be able to miss me. Every fallen angel in the place on Dominick’s payroll—and I knew there had to be a lot—would see me. And if they saw me—and if Jaya had been telling the truth—they would pick up on my angelic mark, and hopefully they would help me get away from my captors.

“I have to give your lover credit,” Mateo growled in my ear. “His clubs are impressive.” His gaze wantonly followed a woman who walked by in a black dress that fit her like a second skin. “Almost as impressive as the women who frequent them. That’s why I was so surprised when I heard he’d fixated on one woman.” He spread an arm wide. “Why choose one, when there are so many filling his clubs every night, looking to live out their wildest fantasies?”

I didn’t answer him. He didn’t want an answer. Instead, I tried my best to ignore the eldest Solano and his damp hand resting on my back.

Music thrummed, vibrating through the soles of my strappy, high-heeled shoes. It wasn’t the same club beats I’d heard in the New York Epicurus. It was more fitting to a club that overlooked the ocean, the pounding sounds carrying a seaside vibe that almost made me think I could smell the sea air over the mingling scents of perfume and cologne from the hundreds of well-dressed patrons swirling and writhing on the dance floor.

Colored lights swept across the top of the crowd, and beautiful women and men wearing angel wings swung on trapeze-style bars that dangled from above. The angel wings were white, as was most of the club, the rapidly changing lighting providing the only color. In a nod to the area, huge Plexiglass bulls were positioned throughout the dance floor, with guests gyrating against them and even climbing up and riding them. I gaped at the sight of one woman straddling a bull in a skirt so short it left no one in doubt as to why she rocked so urgently on the beast’s back.

The club appeared to have lots of patrons wearing black leather—just as I’d noticed in New York—and every single one of them was striking and surrounded by members of the opposite sex. My gaze was drawn to one man in nothing but low-slung, leather pants, his dark-skinned, sculpted chest glistening as a multitude of women ran their hands across it.

Yep, I was way out of my league.

“You’re sure we should be here?” Anthony asked, when a man in a dark suit eyed us openly then spoke into his cuff.

“Trust me.” Mateo propelled me forward with his sweaty hand on my back, moving us through the undulating crowd toward the long bar that took up the back wall.

I moved with him just to get ahead of his hand. As the bodies gyrated around us, I saw my chance to slip away into the crowd, especially since Mateo seemed distracted by the scantily clad women with obviously lowered inhibitions. Walking faster than him, I pivoted quickly to one side, ducking behind a broad-chested man in leather pants and a tight T-shirt. Even though the man had a woman practically humping his leg, he gave me a lascivious grin.

I smiled politely as I tried to slip around him. Then a hand clamped over mine.

“Don’t try to run,” Anthony said, jerking me to him, his eyes flashing.

“I wasn’t—”

“And don’t lie to me.” He stared down at me, frowning. “I thought we were better friends than that.”

As if I could ever be friends with you, I thought. But I only smiled up at him. “I just needed to get away from your brother.”

Anthony peered over his shoulder to where his brother was grinding with a woman in a red micro dress—or maybe it was just a slightly long shirt. “We don’t have to stay with him.”

If I wasn’t going to be able to escape from Anthony, I decided to try a different strategy. “Why don’t we duck out? This place to is too loud, and it’s not very private.”

“I don’t know. Mateo seemed sure this was a good way to make a statement to the other families.”

If that statement was ‘please kill me,’ then he was right about that.

“Your brother doesn’t seem to care much about that, right now.”

Mateo Solano was moving his meaty hand up the woman’s thigh, and I was startled that she seemed fine with it. She also seemed seriously dazed, her head lolling back as she swayed to the music. I’d never tried club drugs, but I’d heard plenty about them. If half the people in the club weren’t on something, I’d sprout wings myself.

“There isn’t a VIP room or something?” I asked, fluttering my eyelashes and already knowing the answer. “Surely, they’d let in someone like you?”

Anthony arched an eyebrow at me. “You want to go to Hell?”

“Excuse me?”

“Hell. That’s what people call all the VIP rooms in the Epicurus clubs. The clubs are bright and have lots of wings and angels, but the exclusive levels—the rooms where anything goes—are dark and decorated in red and black. Like hell.”

I already knew this, having been to Hell in Venice. Still, it made me smile how on the nose Dominick liked to be with his angel and demon imagery. I’m sure it amused him to be so obvious and still have humans not pick up on any of it. He could probably walk around the club with his ebony wings unfurled and still have people think it was a joke.

“If you want to drag me to hell, I’m game.” It would take us away from the main floor, but it would also get me away from Mateo. Not only that, but I was also pretty sure that Dominick’s staff had already reported to him that I was there. I didn’t have to look up and around to know that eyes were on me. I could feel them tracking my movements.

Anthony pulled me through the crowd, and we emerged near a staircase that wound down, the lighting dim and flickering red at the bottom.

“Seriously, Dominick?” I muttered to myself as I followed Anthony down the spiraling stairs. When we reached the lower level, there was a long, black hall ornamented with blown glass chandeliers that sparkled like orange fire. At the end were a pair of tall, handsome men I could tell instantly were fallen angels. They stood with their arms crossed in front of them, and a cranberry-red curtain hanging across a doorway between them. Their eyes flicked to me, registering momentary surprise before they looked smoothly back to Anthony.

“I’m—” Anthony began.

“We know who you are,” one of the men said, before Anthony could finish. “Welcome to the VIP level.”

The other man’s lips curved into a smile. “Welcome to Hell.”

“See?” Anthony said, his voice tremulous. “What did I tell you? They call it Hell.”

I nodded, sure that the Fallen had meant something entirely different when he’d said it to Anthony. I caught his eye before I stepped past the curtain he pulled back, and he gave me an almost imperceptible nod.

Anthony had been right about one thing. Like in Venice, the VIP level—or Hell—was so different from the main club that it gave me whiplash. I paused in the doorway as my eyes adjusted to the low lighting, and when I could finally make out the shapes on the dark furniture, my mouth dropped. If I’d thought people were loose with their inhibitions upstairs, it was nothing compared to downstairs. And it was even wilder than Hell in Venice.

A square platform bed took up the center of the room, and multiple, partially dressed bodies writhed on the crimson-covered mattress. Overhead, a woman wearing only a pair of white wings swung on a trapeze-style swing, letting her naked ass dangle over for guests to slap. On a nearby chaise tufted in velvet, a woman reclined with her dress tugged down to her waist, a man kneeling on either side, each one sucking on a bared breast.

Anthony squeezed my hand, his voice husky. “Better?”

No, this was definitely not better.