Raven Mask (10 page)

“What for? We take out one bad guy and another one shows up.”

The vulnerability in his voice made my throat tight. I’d never heard Arthur sound like he was on the verge of breaking.

“That’s how life is,” I said bluntly. “Arthur, just trust me. You’ll feel better if you go home and rest. Okay?”

“You’ll let me know me if you hear anything?” The moment seemed to have passed. He wasn’t joking, but his tone was firmer, more like he was getting a grip.

“Yeah, I’ll call.”

With that, he hung up. I closed the phone and slid it back into my pocket, then rubbed my temples, taking a deep breath and holding it. “What now?” I said to no one in particular.

Lenorre answered. “We wait.”

“I hate waiting.”

Rosalin sat on the other end of the couch. “Me too.” She looked at me. “You haven’t eaten all day, have you?”

I shook my head and she tsked softly. “Come on, I’ll make you some dinner. I know coffee is God for you, but it’s not substantial.”

Rosalin stood, pulling her bright orange shirt over her hips.

“You like taking care of people, don’t you?” I asked.

A look of compassion crossed her face. “I like taking care of those I care about.”

“Couldn’t tell.” I grinned and looked at Lenorre, and as if she saw my thoughts written across my features she asked, “Kassandra, what are you thinking?”

I didn’t even know if Lenorre could cook. It was the thought that amused me. I kept grinning, and Rosalin laughed.

“Uh-oh, she has that look.”

“What look?” I asked, feigning innocence.

“The one that says you’re up to something.”

“I’m not up to anything.”

“Kassandra,” Lenorre said, “do not try to play innocent. What are you about?”

“Well, Rosalin does an awful lot of work around the house—cooking, cleaning, and taking care of things. I’m sure she’d appreciate a respite.”

Rosalin laughed. “How do you think I earn my keep?”

“Even if you’re working, you should get a day off.”

“Are you offering to cook dinner?” Lenorre expertly tried to turn the table.

I laughed. “Oh, no, you don’t want me to.”

“Yeah, that scares me,” Rosalin said. “Let’s not, but we can say she did.”

“I can cook, if I have to.”

Rosalin rolled her eyes. “What? With the microwave?”

“I was thinking that Lenorre should make dinner.” I was.

“If you can get Lenorre to make dinner, I’ll do a freaking backflip.”

Lenorre crossed her arms over her chest and flashed dainty fangs. “Done.”

“What?” Rosalin’s jaw hung open.

Lenorre spoke over her shoulder on the way out of the room. “Do not be surprised if you find I have talents even you are not aware of, Kassandra.” To Rosalin, she said, “When I am done fulfilling my part of the bargain you owe us a backflip.”

Rosalin stared when Lenorre, appearing completely dumbfounded, left the room.

I tried not to laugh.

“Yeah, laugh it up,” she said. “Has anyone ever told you you’re manipulative?”

I pushed myself off the couch and headed for the kitchen. If Lenorre was cooking, I had to see this.

“All the time.” I grinned like an imp. “I just can’t believe I managed to get two birds with one stone, that time. That’s fucking talent.”

Chapter Thirteen

Lenorre had made fettuccini Alfredo, and I had to admit it was excellent. The sauce was creamy with just the right amount of freshly ground black pepper and chicken. I bit into a warm breadstick smothered in butter and sprinkled with Italian herbs.

“Lenorre, you have a phone call.” I nearly dropped my fork at the sound of Zaphara’s voice. I hadn’t heard her enter the room nor had I heard a telephone ring.

“Downstairs,” Zaphara told Lenorre, as she stood. I watched Lenorre leave the room until she was out of sight. Zaphara stayed in the doorway, staring at me. I resisted the urge to throw my fork at her because a fork probably wouldn’t hurt her.

She’d taken off the spiffy trench coat and was wearing a form-fitting black shirt with slits up the sides of her torso. A line of white skin peeked through the buckles that held the slits together. Zaphara propped herself against the archway, turning at the hip to reveal the silhouette of her small breasts where the fabric clung to them. It took me a second glance to realize her nipples weren’t hard; they were pierced and she was showing them off.

I met her amethyst stare, giving her the blankest expression I could muster. The expression must’ve worked because the grin on her face faltered.

“Those must’ve hurt,” I said.

“It felt good to me.” She raised her hand as if to touch them.

I busied myself by twirling a small amount of fettuccini around my fork.

“You don’t strike me as the masochistic type.”

“I have varied tastes.”

“Goody for you.” I raised the fork to my mouth and drew the noodles off with my teeth. If she wanted to have a stare-down, fine. I could do that.

“You would be such fun to play with.” She said it almost wistfully, and I relaxed. I could win this round.

Rosalin remained silent, as if she didn’t want to draw attention. I ignored Zaphara’s comment. She was just trying to get under my skin, and if I threw a witty reply at her, she’d find one to throw right back. Rosalin leaned over her bowl and I suddenly realized just how submissive Rosalin could be, even though she was beta wolf of the Blackthorne Pack. She might as well be on her back, offering up her soft belly. That said something about either Zaphara and whatever she was or Rosalin. I wasn’t sure which.

“How long were you in gymnastics?” I asked, changing the subject and referring to the backflip she had done when Lenorre set a beautiful dinner on the table. Rosalin’s gaze flicked nervously from my face to Zaphara, who laughed before she turned to leave the room.

“Five years,” Rosalin said. “She wants you to top her.”

“What?”

“Zaphara. She wants you to top her.”

“As in?”

“BDSM.”

“Yeah, I got that. She wants me to top her?”

“Um, yeah. At least, I think that’s what she’s doing.”

I actually laughed. “No, I think Zaphara would rather top me than play the role of the bottom.”

“You heard what she said about having varied tastes. I know for a fact she went to see Eris once.”

“Wait, Eris? As in the vampire Eris?”

Rosalin nodded.

“What does she have to do with it?”

“She’s a pro-domme.”

I knew a little about BDSM because I’d entertained the idea once or twice. I’d done a little nail digging and biting with the women in my past, but after being infected with lycanthropy, rough play seemed like a bad idea, especially with a human. I hadn’t been intimate with a human woman since then. Remembering what I’d done to Lenorre’s thighs and what might’ve happened if I’d lost control or if it had been closer to the full moon confirmed that not being with a human was a wise decision. Lenorre could handle me and my beast.

“What does that mean?” I asked.

“Eris is a professional dominatrix.”

I stared at her. “You’re kidding me. She gets paid to spank and fuck people? Isn’t that close to prostitution?”

She gave me a look. “Prostitution is illegal.”

“It doesn’t mean people don’t do it.”

“A pro-domme isn’t a prostitute. A lot of people have that misconception. A true pro-domme doesn’t have sex with her clients.”

“She just spanks them?”

Rosalin grinned. “And a little more, I’m sure. She’s not allowed to sleep with them. I don’t think she’d want to and Lenorre would tear her head off if she solicited uncivilized behavior at the club.”

“She’s a pro-domme at the club?”

“Yes.”

I shuddered, remembering Eris’s piercing sea-green eyes. Her presence made me weak in the knees.

Is that why she had been staring at me? Is that why she had called me a pet? I straightened my spine. I never had been, and never would be, someone’s pet werewolf.

Rosalin was watching me intently. “It’s very professional. Both parties have to consent.” She gathered our bowls and the breadstick plate from the table. “You sign a contract and everything. A lot of the time, there’s an undercurrent of sexuality to it,” she said, “but sex is never involved. It’s more about the power exchange. The submissive gives most of their control to the dominant. For some bottoms, it’s a therapeutic release.”

“How is giving all your control to someone else therapeutic? Doesn’t the submissive give all their power to the dominant?”

Rosalin looked thoughtful, standing near the curtain. “It may look that way, but in reality the submissive has the power to use the safe word.”

“Safe word?”

“Or sign, depending on the agreement. The safe word is what protects the submissive. It keeps the dominant from going too far.”

I leaned back in my seat, “You sound like you have experience.”

“My ex-girlfriend was a little freaky,” she said, balancing our plates in her hands. “That’s all I’m saying.”

When Rosalin left the room to put dishes in the dishwasher, my mind reeled. Eris was a dominatrix. Rosalin had made a valid point. Was she right? Was Zaphara pushing my buttons because she wanted me to get pissed and try to hurt her? If I hurt her, would I be doing exactly what she wanted?

Lenorre emerged from downstairs, calling me out of my thoughts. “Rosalin, a visitor will arrive shortly. Will you escort her to the parlor?”

Rosalin walked back into the room. “I will.”

“What’s going on?” I asked Lenorre, searching her blank expression for an answer.

“Eris thinks she has found the vampire that turned Timothy.”

“Are we sure Timothy’s been turned?”

“If he hasn’t been, why would the vampires have stolen the body?”

I pulled my hair up. “Right. Maybe a pedophile with a thing for necrophilia is on the loose.” I dropped my hair. “Oh, Gods.”

“What?” Lenorre looked worried.

I shook my head. “Nope. I’m not saying that thought out loud. It’ll sound so much worse if I do.”

“Kassandra, tell me.”

“Just because you’re undead it doesn’t make me a—”

“A necrophiliac?”

I gave a slight nod.

“I am quite sure the term is only applicable to predators that enjoy their prey cold and unmoving.” She touched my cheek gently as if trying to wipe the horror from my face. “As you said to your detective friend earlier this evening, I am undead, not dead.” She caught my wrist, placing my hand on her chest. I felt the air swirl into her lungs. “Do the dead do this?”

“That’s the thing,” I said, “you don’t have to breathe. Hell, sometimes you don’t even have a heartbeat. It’s like you guys get this on-and-off switch.”

“Not quite. It is only a natural part of our survival ability to shut off our bodies. It aids a vampire in hunting.” She pulled me into the circle of her arms, and I didn’t struggle or try to pull away. She didn’t feel cold and empty, which was enough to chase the thought away. The reality was she died at dawn. Well, most of the time. As far as I was concerned she was alive, not the way I was alive, but alive enough to will her own heart to beat.

I stood on my tiptoes, offering my lips. She kissed me.

“Better?” she murmured.

I nodded, not needing to explain. She knew it was taking me time to get used to everything. Even before I’d been infected I hadn’t exactly been great at relationships. I loved being in them but hated having them blow up in my face. In the past, I always got with women I had absolutely nothing in common with.

Lenorre understood me. She saw me, not what she thought I could be or what I could do for her or how I looked in the crook of her arm. I didn’t have to explain myself to her because she paid attention.

Your lover should always see you.

The doorbell chimed loudly through the house. I heard Rosalin open the front door and greet Eris in a soft voice. She offered to take her cloak, sounding not quite subservient but utterly polite.

Looking at Lenorre I thought,
It just might get worse
.

My fear was confirmed when Eris thanked her in a silky tone that made my stomach fall.

Chapter Fourteen

“It is a pleasure seeing you again, Kassandra,” Eris said, taking a seat in one of the armchairs in Lenorre’s parlor.

I looked at her then, briefly. What was I supposed to say? I wasn’t exactly up on vampire etiquette. For some reason “ditto” didn’t seem like the polite response.

I widened my eyes at Lenorre just a touch, letting her know she needed to jump in before I stuck my foot in it.

Lenorre asked her, “You said you had information on a stray in this territory?”

Eris leaned back in her seat, crossing her legs and clasping her hands in her lap. “Yes. Well, strays, to be precise.”