New Title 1 (18 page)

Chapter Thirty

Yara adjusted the straps of her high-heeled sandals for the tenth time. Those fuckers refused to stay where they were supposed to.

“Didn’t know there were stiletto sandals in Ancient Rome,” Sam teased from the bed.

“There weren’t,” Yara replied, straightening herself up. “This,” she explained indicating her awesome costume, “is poetic license, my dear.”

Z chuckled from her spot on the reading chair. “Well, poetic license or not, it will be quite hard for you to make a run for it if you need to. You should think of changing.”

“No!” Naiah shrieked from behind Yara. She had safety pins hanging off her T-shirt, pieces of fabric on her hair and needles clutched between her teeth. “There’s no way you’ll change now! It took me ages to make this toga for you, out of literally bed sheets, so you
are
going to the party with it,” she uttered. “And it is just impossible for me to move around in these jeans!” she added when she crouched down to attach Yara’s Roman belt to her tiny skirt.

“Stop complaining, Naiah, T-shirt and jeans suit you much better than that beige tunic you were wearing,” Yara said, checking her improvised ensemble in the mirror.

Not bad, not bad at all.

Naiah had done a great job, almost miraculous, considering that it had been just three hours since she got the phone call from her contact at the club. One of Tardieh’s Egyptian cotton sheets had been turned into a sexy micro Roman tunic with an exquisite low hanging cleavage. Naiah had even adorned the hems with golden embroidery. Like she’d said
–
miracle!

“I won’t have to make a run for it, Z,” Yara assured her leader and went to finish her makeup. “Dyam and Joel will be covering me from the parking lot. Besides, my contact said Phillip has confirmed his attendance at this party tonight but that’s all. There was no mention to the bullets.”

Z shrugged. “You never know.”

“Well, if I do, no sweat. I’ve danced salsa on these babies once, I’m sure a quick run will be like a walk in the park.” Yara turned around and winked at her leader.

Z shook her head but smiled back. She looked much better, actually, she was glowing. Thank Apa Dobrý, her potion had worked.

“Why would you have to run at a party?” Naiah asked.

“Do you think I need more blush?” Yara pondered. 

“This is not just any party, Naiah,” Sam explained. “The guy we’re chasing…”

“This Phillip guy?”

“Yeah,” Z confirmed. “He’s a draco who may be in possession of some special bullets.”

“Hmm, there’s something missing. More eye shadow maybe?” Yara tried again.

“Special bullets?” Naiah enquired. “Like magical?”

“Yeah, like magical,” Sam replied. “A special kind of magic.”

Yara rolled her eyes and turned to face her two best friends. “Girls, Naiah’s been living in a different realm, she’s not
mentally challenged
.”

Z and Sam pulled long so-not-fair faces but didn’t dare retort.

Yara turned to Naiah and decided that honeymoon phase was over. “The thing is, Naiah, there are really fucked-up people in this realm. Last year, a crazy psycho-vamp teamed up with a mad doctor and decided to play Apa Dobrý. They first tried to breed a new race of warriors and when that didn’t work out, they invented this atomic-energy bullet that can turn a grown vampire into a pile of ashes in just a few seconds. We destroyed the factory but one of the boxes slipped away and we think Phillip may know where it is or who has it. Now,” she turned to Sam and Z, “do you think I need more blush or not?”

Silence. All three women stared blankly back at her.

“More,” Z replied after a while, then turned to Naiah. “Naiah, your lovely sister can be a bull in a china shop sometimes, but she’s right. It may be hard for you to fully grasp our mission, but believe us, if we had the choice, we would find another way of finding these bullets.”

Naiah nodded slowly in acknowledgement. “OK, but explain something to me, if this Phillip is so important for the mission, why is Yara going to the party alone? Why not ambush him, full force, vamps and all,
at
the party when he’s least expecting, tie him up like a hog on a spit, and
make
the bastard tell you where the bullets are?”

Again. Silence.

It was Yara’s turn to look all deer-in-headlights. Something told her Naiah wasn’t the secluded virgin she thought she was.

“Well,” Yara said, “this is a members-only kind of party, the vamps can’t come with me.”

“But why?”

“Because I’m the only one who’s a member of this club.”

“What kind of club is that where you are a member but your friends aren’t?”

Ai, crap. “A very exclusive one.”

Z and Sam burst in laughter. Yara glared at them for help, but her friends just smiled back, leaving her to come up with an answer. Traitors. 

Her sister frowned and opened her mouth to ask yet another question but was stopped by a firm knock on the door.

Thank you, Apa Dobrý!
“Come in,” Yara ordered.

The doorknob turned and Dyam appeared on the other side of the threshold. He took a glance at Yara’s tiny costume and blinked a couple of times. Then the most curious thing happened. His eyes roamed to Naiah, who was still crouched down. She stood up like a schoolgirl in front of the cute professor, and Dyam froze.

Yara looked from one to the other and frowned.
What in Hiad was going on here?

“Are you guys ready?” she asked the awestruck Dyam.

“Yes,” he finally replied.

“Right. Where’s my mask?”

Sam handed Yara a beautiful mask with long black feathers, molded in the face of a wild cat.

Yara picked the mask from her friend’s hands and slipped it on. “
Now
we’re ready.”

Before leaving, she did a perfect catwalk twirl, flaunting her outfit
–
which earned her whistles and applause from her girlfriends
–
then walked out of the room.

From the corridor she heard Dyam mutter something about living to see the day when he’d understand the point of having a Masquerade-Toga party. Yara just chuckled to herself. “You have no idea what you’re missing, dear Dyam. You have no idea.”

Chapter Thirty One

Rafe put more power into his hind legs and reached the enormous mansion. The parking lot was filled with sports cars, as creatures from many different supernatural races made their way in. They were all wearing Roman costumes and masks worthy of an award.

He had known something was up as soon as he saw Yara leave the vampire compound on her black BMW Z4. She was by herself, no vamps around, so Rafe hadn’t thought twice. He left his stakeout position and dashed after her.

He knew it was too risky to stalk her that way, but he was way past worrying about risky moves. He’d been watching that fucking mansion for a whole day, hoping to find out more about what was going on, but nothing. She and everyone else had been locked inside. And Tardieh’s place was a fucking fortress. It was protected by a forest full of lasers, surveillance cameras and guards, lots of guards. Following Yara’s Z4 was his only alternative. So here he was.

He hid behind a thick sycamore tree and watched through wolf eyes as Yara stepped out of her sports car and handed over her keys to the valet.

She looked absolutely stunning in a little white number with a low-cut cleavage that went all the way to her belly button, topped by golden high heeled sandals and matching arm bracelets, hoop earrings and necklace. Her usually spiked up black hair had been combed neatly back, bringing out her beautiful features, which were covered by a black mask. What was it depicting? A cat. No, a wild black cat.
How delicious.
A low groan escaped Rafe’s muzzle. What he wouldn’t do to have a few minutes with that kitten. But first things first
–
what in Hiad was she doing here? What sort of party was this?

After Yara disappeared through the tall doors on the mansion, Rafe focused on watching the other patrons who were still arriving. Some were alone, and others came with a partner.

A luxury stretch limo parked in front of the valet parking spot and a tall man wearing a heavy collar attached to a metal chain stepped out. He rushed around it and opened the passenger’s door to let a short woman out. He bowed low and handed her the end of the leash.

A crooked smile lifted the corner of Rafe’s lips. He knew exactly what kind of party that was.

“All equipment is to be handed over at the cloak room. Fresh toys will be supplied to all guests,” the doorman told the couple when they attempted to enter the party.

“I always carry my own,” the woman retorted.

“Not today, ma’am,” he replied coldly. “Orders of the master of the house. Turn your weapons in or leave.”

The woman looked appalled and seemed to want to fight, but the doorman didn’t budge and she ended up nodding in resignation.

Rafe smiled at the scene. He himself had gone to a few parties like these – not as posh as this one, granted, but he recognized the similarities straight away. A connoisseur only needed a sip, right?

The faint sound of shuffling of leaves nearby pulled Rafe’s attention away from the party. He crouched low and waited to see what it was. The profile of a tall man several feet away appeared in his field of vision. Dark hair tied back on a low ponytail, long nose and chiseled jaw. Dyam
–
the vampire who teleported Yara away from Brazil. A sudden urge to jump on the vamp’s jugular whooshed over him, but Rafe forced himself to calm down. He was here to find out about Yara’s mission, not for the vamp, who had found his stakeout spot on the crown of a tall tree.
Hmm, so he’s not going to the party with Yara then. Very interesting.

Rafe was tired of watching the world happen from the outskirts. If he were to find out what was really going on, why Phillip had ordered him to stalk Yara, he’d have to get a little bit closer.

Careful not to attract Dyam’s attention, he left his hiding place and padded to the other side of the mansion, where the manicured back yard was. Hidden between the several beds of exotic flowers, he waited for his cue.

It came in the form of a short elf. Out of nowhere, he stepped out of one of the meticulously trimmed bushes, making Rafe tense in surprise. Elves were very sneaky and great tracers but he had no reason to worry about this one. The guy was completely off his face. His short toga was stained with fresh blots of urine, his bloodshot eyes were at half mast, his walking was off balance. Attacking this target would have been really easy, but knowing that patience would pay a better price, he waited a bit longer. Three. Two. One. The drunken elf missed a step and plummeted face first on the floor. And stayed there.

Perfect. Rafe shifted into his human form and strolled to the guy. His victim didn’t even try to defend himself, so passed out he was. Rafe helped himself to the guy’s toga, leather sandals, accessories and the lot. The Roman dress was much too small for Rafe, so he ripped the top part off, leaving just a short skirt, tied around his waist by a sort of light cord. He strapped on the shoes, put the bracelets on and walked off. He paused however after just a few steps, when he realized he’d forgotten the most important part of his costume. Turning on his heels, he crouched down, lifted the guy’s head by the hair and slipped the intricate mask off his face. “Don’t think you’ll need this one either,” he whispered to the blacked-out male who just let out a loud snore in reply. Leaving the guy to his dreams, Rafe walked into the party.

Chapter Thirty Two

The hypnotic rhythm of techno-drums filled the mansion, and reverberated in Yara’s veins. She took a sip of her Champagne and perused around the area. So far, no sign of Phillip.

The party was packed. Hundreds of bodies, barely covered by questionable interpretations of Roman attire and imaginative masks, crowded the vast foyer. The mansion had also been decorated accordingly. The walls had been covered with murals depicting the areas inside the Coliseum, setting the scene as if the main hall was the fighting arena and the guests were the emperor’s entertainment for the night. Plaques above the main exits paid homage to the famous gladiators in history, made legendary by Hollywood movies – Spartacus, Crixus, Flamma and the lot. Little did humans know that most of their precious warriors of the arena had been supernatural beings.

“Classic,” she smiled and took another sip of her drink.

A gigantic fountain with a statue of Bacchus stood imposingly in the middle of the main hall. Yara stared at it for a moment. She had never seen such a depiction of the Roman God of Wine before. The deity was completely naked – no surprise there – and was surrounded by three women who were crouched at his feet. Red wine was spurting out of his not-so-classic and very generous phallus. It would have been just another ugly statue of a human god had it not been for the fact that the women at its feet were real. Painted from head to toe in gold, they were interacting with the statue, drinking from the generous beacon, licking its stone legs and torso.

Yara shook her head. She shouldn’t have been surprised. The owner of the party was known for his rather eccentric taste in art, and obsessive need to flaunt it.

“Do you like the new addition to my art collection?”

Speaking of the devil… “Very interesting, Balaur,” Yara said, not bothering to turn around to confirm who it was.

“It’s more than interesting, my dear, it’s remarkable,” the draco replied. “I had it carved just for the party.”

“Did they come with the statue or did you add them later?” Yara asked, pointing at the girls in the pond of red wine.

Balaur lifted his double chin up. “They were my idea,” he uttered proudly, “
my
contribution to the world of art.”

O-kay then.
“You never fail to surprise me, senator.”

“
You
either, my dear,” the draco replied with an edge in his voice. “I knew I could count on you to add an extra sparkle to my party.” His dark eyes roamed over her body.

Yuk.

Yara had always been very open-minded about her sexual partners – never judge a book by its cover, right? But the draconian senator carried a disturbing, psycho vibe around him that that made her panther gag. But tonight, she had to play the part, for the sake of the mission.

“Oh, don’t sell yourself short, senator,” Yara forced her mouth to say, “You look quite … unique in that outfit,” she added, referring to his red tunic that made his large belly even more prominent.

Again, yuk.

Before the sleazy prick found an excuse to keep her around, she drained her champagne and announced, “I think I’ll find myself another drink. Excuse me senator.” She snaked around him and dashed out of sight. By Apa Dobrý, that draco gave her the shivers, and not the nice ones.

A young woman carrying a tray of cocktails crossed in front of her. Like the other waiters, her body was adorned by a few red ribbons and nothing else. Her beautiful naked body had been smeared in oil and glitter. Yara reached out and took a martini for herself. The girl gave her a quick nod and moved on to serve other guests. A tall man with dark hair and with the most amazing body came into Yara’s view.

She paused mid-sip.

Ai. Mighty. Soartas.

He was leaning against the far wall, slowly twirling a glass of scotch in his hand. Going by his relaxed manner, one would think he was bored, but as soon as Yara looked closer, she felt his burning eyes on her, even though she couldn’t actually see them from where she was. She could feel it in her gut – he’d been watching her, like the hawk depicted on his mask.

Butterflies suddenly started dancing in her stomach. Her heart picked up speed. Wow, the guy was the ultimate embodiment of a dream god. Broad shoulders, thick biceps, a six pack that you could wash your clothes on, a pair of muscular thighs that made the most frigid of women salivate. His body was bare-naked saved for several amazing tattoos, a pair of lace-up sandals and indecently small Roman skirt. Yara’s mind drifted along, contemplating what was hidden underneath the flimsy cloth.

She adjusted her mask on her face and lifted her lips in a half-smile, not even attempting to hide her interest. This was not the place for coyness. The name of the game at a private sex party didn’t rhyme with
maybe
, it rhymed with
right now
. She had been instantly aroused by that man, and judging by the way his skirt had suddenly lifted in the middle, he wanted her too.

Dream God flashed her an amazingly sexy smile, but didn’t move. He just stood there, leaning against the wall, twirling his drink.

What in Hiad?
Was he going to
watch
her all night long?

No freaking way, Yara had no patience for voyeurism. She straightened her spine and got ready to end their foreplay, but before she had the chance to make her move, she spotted a tall blond man from the corner of her eye. He was descending the long marble stairway coming from the upper levels. Like everyone else in the party, he too was wearing a costume reminiscent of ancient Rome and a mask. Nonetheless, Yara recognized the S.O.B straight away. Phillip. Her target, her mission. Dream God had mesmerized her so that she had forgotten all about the real reason why she was at this party tonight.
Damn you, sexy man with incredible six-pack!

She allowed herself one last glance at his direction.
Ai, Merciful Soartas, why couldn’t you have shown her that mortal-sin-in-legs at another party?
She had never bumped into him at the clubs she went to, nor at any private gatherings. She was dying to have a taste of his wholesome deliciousness, but her mission was more important. She needed to get close and personal with Phillip and wrench information about the bullets out of him. It had taken them a long time to find this opportunity, only the Soartas knew when another one would present itself. Since the mission in London, Phillip had managed to vanish off the map. So tonight was the night. Unfortunately.

Yara sighed and turned her focus to her target – her official target. She had to find a way of getting Phillip alone. No biggie, really. At a party like this one, it wouldn’t be difficult to find an isolated corner or even better, a bedroom. So all she had to do was get the moth enthralled by her light.

The blond draco reached the bottom of the stairs and stood there, watching the crowd. Yara took a few steps to the left and placed herself in his line of sight.

Bingo. As soon as his grey eyes landed on her, he froze and ogled back.

A long bell echoed above the loud music – a warning for guests to get ready.

Yara smiled at Phillip and lifted her glass in a toast. A very old but effective invitation card. He smiled back and lifted his drink in return.
Hooked!
Now all she needed to do was to wait until the lights went …

All of a sudden, Phillip’s smile faded and his glance darted to the right.
What in Hiad?
Yara turned in search for the bitch who’d made her target lose interest, but it wasn’t no bitch. It was Dream God. He was openly growling at Phillip from across the room.

Shit, that was not in the plan.

He glanced at Yara, then glared at Phillip. But instead of backing down, Phillip lifted his chin up and took a step toward her. Obviously, Dream God didn’t take it lightly. He snarled at Phillip again, then also advanced toward Yara.

Ai. Apa. Dobrý. They were dueling over her!

Yara didn’t know what to do. Both men were clearly ready for battle, giving no hint of backing down. It would’ve been quite flattering if this would’ve happened at a different party. Right now, Yara didn’t know how to fix the situation. She was praying for the Soartas to drill some sense into Dream God’s head – actually she half-wished it. Deep inside, she liked that he wasn’t giving her up so easily.

The bell rang a second time.

Time was running out.

Dream God took another step forward and opened his stance. Feet set apart, knees slightly bent, hands clutched into fists. Phillip responded with a display of power of his own. He strode forward and flashed his long fangs at Dream God.

The bell rang a third time. The music stopped.

Yara gasped as the entire party paused expectantly.

She looked at Dream God, he gazed back at her, then glowered at Phillip; Phillip glared back at him, then smiled at Yara. Ouch. She had to do something, anything, to sort this pickle she got herself into. She had to get alone with Phillip – there was no question of that. He was the only key they had to finding the last box of the atomic bullets and if she didn’t do it tonight, he might play the vanishing act again and their opportunity would vanish with him.

Before she could take the step forward openly sealing her choice, the lights in the entire house went suddenly out.

The Total Blackout had started.