A Touch of Brimstone by McKenzie Hunter

18

After a half-hour shower, I headed down and found Dominic seated, with an empty plate off to the side, a different notebook than our original in front of him, and sipping on wine. He gave me a once-over: the damp hair pulled into an untidy bun, loose-fitting Dorian Gray t-shirt, threadbare leggings, and fluffy ankle socks. I wasn’t going for sexy but wouldn’t have known that from the look Dominic gave me. He seemed most intrigued by my t-shirt, giving it a long, languid look.

In a black, soft-looking cotton t-shirt and age-worn jeans, he was the most casual I’d seen him, but he still possessed the refinement of someone wearing a bespoke suit. The edges of his exposed tattoos shimmered under the halo of the warm yellow lights.

“No Big Gulp,” he said, “but we had enough to make you a French martini.”

I took a small sip. It was really good.

It wasn’t until the smell of the steak, caramelized potatoes, and tomatoes skewered with mozzarella hit me that my stomach start growling uncontrollably. Since he hadn’t waited for me, I tore into the food.

I drank the water provided instead of the martini. Looking up from my plate, feeling the heat of embarrassment inch its way up my neck and cheeks, I said, “I was hungrier than I thought.” I wiped my mouth with the napkin and took a sip of martini. “Thank you.”

He smirked and pushed the wrapped chocolate toward me. It wasn’t a tower, but a small pyramid.

Unwrapping one, I popped it in my mouth, convinced that the wrapping had actual gold in it so I wouldn’t crumple it.

He slid the notebook over to me and I looked at it. The spells were sectioned into easily readable chunks. Dominic was committed to us striking true.

“I have divided them into the ones most likely to succeed based on the response of your markings and in the dungeon. Most are educated guesses, but I believe what was hindering the success of the spells was my magic.”

Perusing the spells, it was really difficult not to be overtaken by the hope forming. Once the spells were reversed, I could work on damage control because I wasn’t convinced there wouldn’t be some fallout from what happened at Books and Brew.

“Is it just you and your family here?” I asked after I moved the notebook aside.

Dominic seemed comfortable with silence. I saw it as a missed opportunity to learn more about this world, and him.

“Anand, the guards, and staff. The guards are resident here, as are some of the staff. We have humans—indentured.”

“Enslaved,” I corrected.

He shook his head. “Contractually obligated. Presented with the option to work here for money, or a favor. I’m sure the number of people willing to give up a short period of freedom for money, opportunities in your world, a new and better life, doesn’t surprise you.”

Dominic’s jaw was set, awaiting new questions, but I had none. Money for ten years in the Underworld. Five years to return to our world with the job of your dreams, home, and spouse.

I only had one question, but before I could answer he said, “We never offer immortality. We respect the limits of life.”

I hadn’t hidden my look of apprehension and disgust.

“Anand was born here?”

He nodded, his focus intensifying. It wasn’t as if I was ever surreptitious about gathering information.

“His mother was a witch?”

He shook his head. “A wolf shifter—a dangerous one. I suspected a hybrid with a witch. Her bite was dangerous to both vampires and wolves.”

It was like pulling teeth. “His father?”

“Not a shifter or a vamp,” he offered. His voice held a hint of finality, trying to end the discussion.

“Then what?” I asked.

He leaned forward and studied me. “Will knowing his background affect your life in any meaningful way?” he asked, his words acerbic, his tone curt.

“No, I’m just curious about him,” I explained. I’d provoked a protective response he had for Anand. That was interesting. “He just vanishes into the background, or maybe he’s camouflaging himself. Is that shifter magic? Vampire magic? Some type of illusion magic they can perform?”

“Except for Vadim, changing into an animal is the only magic shifters can perform. Vampires can zone and compel. But I’ve already told you that.” Coolness drifted into his expression and made its way to his eyes. “Perhaps, if you want to know more about Anand, ask him.”

The long draw he took from his glass punctuated the end of the topic. He relaxed back in his chair. “Tomorrow you’ll have magic.” A flutter of excitement moved through me. “We’ll come here to do the spells. It’ll be best to see the response to it,” he told me. “I’ll need the Trapsen back.”

“Of course, it’s not like after this is over, I’m going to traipse back to the Underworld.” I still couldn’t believe how casually I said that. As if it was just another destination on the map. Underworld.

Was that disappointment in his expression?

“This might be our last night together,” he whispered, seduction and invitation heavy in his voice.

“It doesn’t have to be.” Um, it damn well better be, screamed killjoy Luna. And I really needed to listen to her.

When he leaned forward on the table, I felt the pull of his presence, the dark sensuality that marked his presence, and the invitation. He exuded raw sexuality, and whatever he was doing beckoned me. Naughty thoughts crept through my mind, and I had to work hard at squashing them.

Dominic was luring me into his web of seduction, and I was willing to fall prey to it in a manner I was sure many others had before me.

“Unless it fails.” Helena wore her cruel smile proudly as she approached the table. Ignominy wafted off her like a fragrance. “Then you’ll have no other choice, Dominic, but to go to extremes. Not only is the Conventicle losing patience, but there are others involved. You’ll be forced to be practical, which is what you do best.” Her eyes were merciless as she bored into him and then turned to me. Was there any love between them? “Allow yourself the pleasures of his seduction. Let him have you tonight. If the sounds of passion I’ve heard from others are any indicator, it will be enjoyable for you.”

Gross thing to acknowledge about your brother, but do go on.

I swallowed. My eyes flicked to Dominic, who, immune to her cruelty and antics, watched his sister with a casual indifference.

“You can fuck him tonight. Take your pleasure from it. But know that he’d roll from atop you and slit your throat in the process.” She provided a vivid portrait of Dominic’s ease of violence and indifference. And the images that resurfaced about earlier only reinforced it.

With a great deal of effort, I kept disappointment or shock from showing. I wished I could’ve found the audacity to look her in the face and say something like “If I’m going to die, it might as well be under a hot guy.” It would have shocked the smirk off her face. But I couldn’t be that cavalier about dying. I wanted to live.

The expressionless look Dominic directed at his sister was a reminder of the casualness with which he approached murder and violence. He was a person who honored his promises, but he’d never promised to not kill me.

Backing away, I kept a careful eye on them both. Before I could turn and leave, I glimpsed Helena’s look of victory and Dominic’s indecipherable expression that made her air of triumph fade. For a long time, they held each other’s gaze. The taunting defiance that she’d reveled in dwindled into apprehension. She swallowed hard and closed her eyes briefly. Had she managed to finally cross the line?

He dragged his eyes from her and let them follow me as I walked away. He didn’t stop me from leaving, nor did he deny her statement.

Sleep didn’t come easily. Helena’s incendiary words stayed with me. Holding on to the optimism I shared with the prince was becoming increasingly difficult. My tossing and turning stopped when someone knocked at the door. I didn’t answer.

“I know you are awake. I heard you.” Had he been standing at the door, ruminating on the acceptable way to say “I know murdering you is my last-ditch strategy, but can we push that aside and be friends?”

I rolled out of the bed, marched to the door, and yanked it open.

“What!” I growled. I sounded formidable. If words had the power some people claimed they did, they would have ripped his head off.

He didn’t speak for a long time, his eyes traveling the length of my body and settling on my lips, as if he had a hard time believing that level of anger came from them. Then they met my eyes.

“My sister was out of line.”

“Did she say anything that wasn’t true?”

He answered with a sigh. I took it as a tacit confirmation.

“May I come in?”

“Do I have a choice?”

“Yes.”

“Then no.”

He nodded. “I need the Trapsen.”

Closing the door in his face felt better than I could have ever imagined. I went to the dresser where I’d placed the Trapsen, grabbed it, opened the door, and shoved it into his chest. He took hold of my arm and pulled me into him. I could smell his scent intermingled with the redolence of wine and feel the firmness of his body.

This dude has killing you as an option if things don’t work outtomorrow, I reminded myself and cursed my hormones. They had lamentably poor self-protection instincts.

“The only way you don’t survive this is if I don’t,” he whispered. “That’s my promise to you.” He inched in closer, his lips warm, his breath breezing across my lips. “Okay?” he breathed. It was such a featherlight touch I wasn’t even sure it was a kiss.

He released me but I kept the miniscule distance between us.

“Okay?” he repeated.

Relief flooded through me and lifted a burden I hadn’t realized had weighed so heavily on me. Perspective changes judgment. All the things that I considered questionable about him—propensity for violence, power, calculating strategist, and arrogance—were things that would ensure we both came out of this victorious.

“Goodnight, Luna,” he said before walking away. I watched him until he disappeared around the corner.

“That is his oath, not mine,” Helena clarified, her voice acrid with disdain. I turned to find her just inches from me.

I pointed to my face, devoid of any emotion. Fatigue made it easier to maintain. “This is my ‘not giving a fuck’ face. Sorry if it looks similar to my ‘your little act is getting tiring, so get a new spiel’ face.”

Without giving her a chance to respond, I walked back into the room and slid a chair in front of the door. I had given Dominic the Trapsen, not the knife. Helena would feel the blade if she came in.