My head snapped in her direction, but she wasn’t looking at me. Her empty sockets were glued resolutely to the waltzing couples around the hall.
“Holga,” I said, my voice just loud enough to be heard over the eerie melody. “Is Belial here?”
She didn’t answer, but her magic gripped my muscles and forced my feet forward, carrying me across the dance flooragainst my will. Despite my efforts to turn back, the invisible force dragged me farther away from the witch until I was good and lost in the swirl of twirling dancers.
Then, the hold over me ebbed, and I continued forward on my own.
Now that I was here, I might as well look for Belial. If I couldn’t find him, at least I could try to slip through the throng of people and shake Holga from my tail.
The music floating in the air, coupled with the constant movement of dancers around me, made my thoughts fuzzy. It was ethereal, something straight out of a movie—one I didn’t remember auditioning for. If it wasn’t for the painful throb in my chest, I might have chalked all of this up to another plum dream.
I made my way through the sea of masked faces, eventually catching a glimpse of Holga and Cecil—the Lord’s personal librarian—waltzing together around the perimeter of the room. Angry as I was, the sight put a smile on my face. Now it made sense why she’d been so nervous when she and Cecil came to Belial’s room. I would have guessed that the two didn’t like each other. Maybe I’d misread the tension, and the frustrations were more intimate in nature.
Which was understandably frustrating, since only one of them had skin—if the aged leather stretching Cecil’s frame could even be called skin.
When I broke through the crowd at the other end of the hall, my stomach dropped through my ass to the ground. Elevated on a stone dais was a throne made of bones, the same one I’d seen in my dream, looming menacingly before me. It was an omen, a stark reminder of what would come shortly. In front of it, splitting the marble floor in half, was a crimson river drifting along somberly.The River Styx.
My insides twisted, visions from the dream flooding my mind once again.
“Show your Lord all he owns,”the Lord of Bones had rumbled in that voice that touched me all over, as palpable as a lover’s caress.
Heat thrummed through me as the image of me bending over and spreading myself open for him surfaced. He’d made me touch myself in front of all those souls.
Fuck. That damn dream. I couldn’t get it out of my head.
A flood of arousal pooled between my legs and slicked down my thighs. I pressed my dress down, trying to soak up the fluid with the fabric.
Of all the layers Holga had provided me with, underwear wasn’t one of them. Something told me that had been yet another instruction from the perverted Lord.
“Fucking prick,” I mumbled, quickly turning on the spot to watch the dancers once more.
At least there was no sign of the Lord of Bones. Yet.
I probably didn’t have long, minutes at most, before he made his appearance. Before he came to claim me.
In front of all these people.
I took a shaky breath, searching for an exit.
Aside from the doors where we’d entered, which were still sealed shut, there was no other way into the hall. There was no escape.
As I tried to hash out an escape plan, a flash of antlers had my blood freezing in my veins. My blood went molten hot on the next breath when I registered the jewelry decorating them, silver charms and chains I’d recognize anywhere.
Then, a mask I knew well appeared through the crowd. It was gone again on the next beat of the music.
My heart slammed to a painful stop, and time seemed to slow.
“Belial?” I whispered, maneuvering and trying to catch sight of the mask again. The silver on his antlers caught the light. That had to be him.Was he dancing?
My stomach pitched toward the floor, and I hurried forward, nearly getting trampled by a waltzing pair of demons. I muttered an apology and pressed on, weaving through the crowd while the haunting music swallowed me.
I frantically searched for the demon who possessed my soul, probably looking ridiculous as I spun around without a dance partner, but I didn’t care. No one seemed to be paying me any attention, lost to the music.
“Rayven,” a voice said behind me, and I stilled. With a sharp inhale, the scent of sweet strawberries pierced my hazy thoughts and lit up every nerve in my body.
I pivoted. Belial stood there, storm gray eyes practically glowing behind his mask as he looked me over. My skin prickled with unease, and suddenly, my mouth was bone dry.
He looked incredible. His black slacks and fitted silver shirt hugged his muscular frame like they were made for him—they probably were—and a black cape with intricate silver details was tied around his shoulders. He looked elegant and sinister, every bit the conniving henchman who’d set his eyes on the villain’s prisoner, determined to make her fall for him.
