Hundreds of crystal chandeliers threw the light, magnified by gilded mirrors upon every wall. Enormous floor-candelabra shone against gold-veined marble columns, the columns curling in fanciful designs like ostrich feathers as they rose to the high-domed crystal ceiling and the bright autumnal stars beyond. Like being inside an enormous Victorian Gothic candy-dish, the entire space glittered with opulence so great it was disorienting, and Layla swayed against Dusk’s arm as she looked up, trying to fix her sight on the stars above and failing.
But Dusk guided her through it all, gracious with his rumbling wit. The ballroom was a who’s-who of the Twilight Realm tonight, and Dusk greeted everyone by name with a clasping of hands, regardless of how impossible they were to recognize in their costumes and masques. Layla soon found herself maneuvered to the bar, an Old Fashioned deposited in her hands and Dusk holding the same. He’d somehow got them out of the worst of the shuffle, and as he clinked crystal glasses with her and they drank, Layla downed hers in one go.
Dusk gave her a grin from behind his masque, then downed his and signaled for two more.
Layla sipped her second drink, the whiskey firing her throat and helping her breathe at last. She’d never been claustrophobic before and it took her a moment before she realized the unease she was experiencing was actually because there was so much magical energy in the hall. She had felt individuals or groups unleash their magic in the Hotel before, but this was thousands of people doing so at once. Practically drowning in waves of magic, Layla’s skin was crawling, shuddering with exuberance so high she felt like she’d taken mushrooms, ecstasy, and cocaine simultaneously – and had been transported to a whole new Wonderland.
A world where her inner Dragon felt right at home.
Fire flooded Layla’s veins, as if her Dragon was feeding off the abandon in the hall – and for the first time, she let herself sink into it. Like she’d felt at the Gypsun bar, she felt the magics of others become unrestrained here in the revelry. As if everyone had permission tonight to be as passionate as their magics always wished to be, like the patrons of Marnet’s bar, no scent or flare of magic was being controlled tonight.
Though reined in by her hamsa-cuff, Layla’s own Dragon-magic raged out, eager to indulge in the game of hedonism and abandon. Devouring the energies around her and expanding, Layla’s magic uncoiled, caressing those nearby with scintillating curls of orange and bourbon-spiced wind. A number of people shivered, looking her way with startled laughs.
But the mood of the night was far more permissive and scandalous even than thebacchanalia. Layla instantly understood that tonight would supply the epitome of what the Hotel provided its guests – a mind-blowing experience of passion and ecstasy. Already, she saw people coupling off, kissing and fondling as they danced and drank. As if she needed any more confirmation that containment was not necessary tonight, Dusk suddenly downed his second drink, stepped behind her, and wrapped her in his arms – trapping her close to his smoldering body.
“Go wild, Layla,” he murmured at her ear, his soft lips smoothing deliciously over her skin. “Nothing is impermissible tonight. The Grand Masquerades at the Hotel are the four nights of all the year where anyone may do as they wish. Let your magic do what it wants tonight. I’ll be here to catch you. I promise.”
With that, Dusk set his impossibly smooth lips to her neck, kissing her. Layla felt a spear of crystal-bright power sunder her – Dusk’s magic at its most unrestrained. As if he knew her deepest intimate places, Dusk’s power was suddenly flooding Layla – lighting her up like a golden twilight. As Layla gasped, she felt her Dragon inhale like a demon, devouring Dusk’s beautiful crystal energy.
And then her magic burst outward in a roaring wind of heat, sex, and passion – flooding the hall with wild energy.
As her unbound lust surged out, tasting everyone around her, Layla’s knees buckled. Turning into Dusk, she let him devour her with his kiss until their night exploded into diamond brilliance – and Layla knew nothing more except power and passion as she was swept away into the stars.
CHAPTER 26 – MASQUES
Spinning. Layla’s only sensation was that she was spinning in a vortex of heat and power, passion and lust. Her head whirled as she spun upon Dusk’s arm through a dance, moving through a sea of glitter and debauchery. They were on the ballroom floor, dancing in the middle of whirling couples, and Layla had no memory of how they’d gotten there or how long they’d been there. She was music, she was heat and energy and sound, she was the flow of every breathless laugh. She was muscle and movement, coil and release as Dusk spun her again, whirling her through the dance with grace as cool as a river’s sparkling flow.
She was spun – into the arms of another partner. The dance was pure movement, the eyes of her partner a vibrant gold, and Layla recognized the indigo plumage of the Phoenix King beneath a snarling ruby Gryphon masque as he dipped her in his strong, lean arms. Bending his incredible height to brush a kiss over her collarbones, Layla was a feather in his arms as his zephyrs teased her. The chirring of birds was in her ears and the flapping of a thousand wings as he kissed her lips – and then spun her away into the arms of another partner.
Layla felt storms and thunder as her new partner took her. Eyes the color of moody skies clashing with lightning beamed at her from beneath an art-nouveau masque like exploding raindrops. She realized it was a woman dressed as a man in a feminine tuxedo, power blazing from the woman’s skin with the smell of ozone in a thunderstorm. It was the Storm Dragon Queen Justine Toulet who spun her, and Layla saw them dancing all around her now, the Desert Clan and the Storm, the Phoenix and the Blood Dragons with Rikyava in Dusk’s arms now, dressed in a long silver gown. But Layla barely had a moment to breathe Queen Justine’s rainwater fragrance before she was spun away to yet another partner.
Tall and perfect in an all-white ensemble over three centuries out-of-date, Head Courtier Reginald Durant had no powdered wig on tonight, his own shining golden hair bound back in a club, luminous as sunlight on an arctic sea. His masque was a snarling white ocean-dragon decorated with pearls and glittering diamonds, flowing tendrils cascading up from the masque like some leviathan come to drown unlucky ships. His long jacket and waistcoat were embroidered with shells, diamonds, and pearls.
Reginald’s eyes pressed her with the weight of the ocean, deep and drowning as they danced. As had happened when he’d danced with her on her first day at the Hotel, Layla felt her Dragon’s heat rolled beneath his chill northern sea, the call of gulls and salt spray drowning everything else out. For a brief eternity, the hall faded until there was nothing but the feel of ocean mist on Layla’s skin and the breath of sea air in her lungs. Her lips fell open as she spun, mesmerized by the Head Courtier as she stared up into his impeccable ice-blue eyes.
Until he released her like a ship upon high ocean winds – straight into the arms of the one person who could break her.
Adrian caught her hard against his chest, and the dance stopped. For everyone else it continued, whirling all around them, but for Layla and Adrian, the world of glittering delight suddenly came crashing down. His hands burned her like firebrands where they gripped her bare shoulders; his eyes seared with reds and oranges through the aqua and gold, a seething fury that Layla had never seen. Dressed in a white tux jacket but with a Chinese fu lion masque with a stunning mane, Adrian’s gaze raked Layla’s costume – his beautiful lips curling up into a snarl.
“Dusk. I should have fucking known.”
Adrian’s eyes burned from behind his masque, his voice grating. Fury radiated from him, flaring with the sensation of fire-ants and stinging sand. People cried out, backing away, and the dance fractured. As Layla stared up at Adrian, caught in his seething magics, a spike of furious red-hot wind suddenly burned her from his hands – straight into her core.
Pain exploded through Layla and she cried out, convulsing from whatever Adrian had done. With a roar, her hauled her close, terrifying in his snarling lion masque. His hands were clamped so hard on her arms they were bruising and as Layla tried to wrench herself away, he sent that red-hot spike through her again, spearing her deep.
Her Dragon roiled, writhing in pain and Layla actually screamed this time, feeling like every nerve was on fire from whatever Adrian was doing. Struggling, she tried to knee him in the groin, desperate to get away. But as he sent a third spike of blistering rage into her body, she felt something tear inside her – something that shouldn’t have torn; something not physical but magical. As Layla screamed again and Adrian roared in pain also, she realized what he was doing. He was trying to tear apart their Bind.
He was trying to rip himself free of her.
Adrian tried again, sending a burning spike of magic deep into Layla and she screamed again, collapsing though he still gripped her close. The tearing of their Bind rebounded on him and she felt him convulse as he screamed in pain also. Hands were suddenly there – so many hands, trying to haul them apart. But something was happening. Magic was seething around Layla like a sandstorm. Layla felt Adrian’s hands change shape; becoming talons. Massive black talons that pierced her arms like daggers; blood flowing from the wounds.
But she couldn’t feel that pain, only a dark agony rioting inside her as Adrian tore at their Bind. Hands were hauling her away now; Dusk’s strong body cradled her, pouring his soothing music through her bones as Adrian roared, his lion-masque ripped away but his handsome face just as terrible. He was roaring like a mad thing, with bass notes and overtones that men just didn’t have – and Dusk was roaring back the same way. Shuddering with convulsions in Dusk’s arms, Layla saw magic manifest upon the air – a liquid-red and aqua fire coiling out around Adrian and an answering nimbus of vibrant crystal shards beginning around Dusk.
Shuddering with agony, Layla watched Rikyava, Adam, Reginald, even the Phoenix King seize Adrian, trying to haul him away from Dusk and Layla. But Adrian was fighting them all. With a roar, Adrian sent a hard pulse of energy through his captors, staggering them – except Reginald. The Head Courtier had an iron grip on Adrian and as Adrian whirled, leveling a punch at him, the Siren ducked and inhaled a massive breath. Something whirled out around him like a leviathan, and with a roar that shredded Layla’s ears like grinding ice, Reginald backhanded Adrian across the face, spilling Adrian to his hands and knees on the ballroom floor.
Layla cried out – feeling Reginald’s power as it hit Adrian like the rage of the entire ocean. Though Reginald’s Siren-slap had been meant for Adrian, it was Layla who was inundated by it. Ice water flooded her through the Bind and she gasped, drowning. Reginald’s slap had stumbled Adrian; but the Siren’s ice was drowning Layla. As she spasmed from the sluicing chill, Adrian did also – glancing over to her from where he had fallen.
Cradled in Dusk’s arms, she was in rigors, shuddering like liquid nitrogen filled her veins. Terror filled Layla as the world went black around the edges and she gasped for breath; drowning in the Siren’s floes. Someone had torn away her masque and her eyes met Adrian’s. Seeing her gasp, tears leaking from her eyes as she drowned, Adrian surged to standing with horror in his beautiful eyes, but Dusk was already scooping Layla up.
