Scorpius sighs and I take that as permission to pepper him with every question that I’ve been obediently storing.
“You’ve actually met them. Well, more like you’ve seen them,” Scorpius corrects as we move out of the alley and down a placid street.
Dim light from sporadic street lamps spills over the cobbled road, and closed shops border the walkways on either side of us. I can just make out the dark tipped roofs of the turrets that crown the Dawn Court castle over the tall buildings lining this street, and the rows of even taller houses hide the horizon beyond that. I get the sense that this city must be colossal, and I’m grateful that we’re wandering its depths while it’s still quiet and sleepy.
“At the ludere?” I ask as I rack my brain for any talk ofthe quad, not that it could have possibly been anywhere else. I’ve only met Eacon, her mate, and the Scorpions since I’ve left Tilleo’s sand pits.
“They’re the heads of the Order of Vulpi,” Skull supplies, and I stop.
“Oh,” I utter, the images of the four female fae who sat with Tilleo on the first feast night of the Bidding, the night I killed Crit in the wine cellar, solidifying in my mind.
I don’t know why I thought I’d never see any of the attending Order members ever again, but I did. I realize now how stupid that was. They’re Order members. There are alliances and assemblies and protocols between them. Running with the Order of Scorpions means I’m now woven into the fabric of all of it, like it or not.
Skull and Bones observe me, a glint of concern stewing in their black glamoured gazes. I couldn’t say if the concern stems from my reaction orwhoit is we were going to meet. Either way, I don’t like it. I start to walk again, and each of the Scorpions falls into step around me.
“Enay is theScorpiusof the Vulpi,” Skull tells me as we round a corner and make our way down another dusky street. “Mayden and Myrka are usually the muscle, and Kiffin is the astute tactician.”
“Of all the Orders, we cooperate with the Vulpi the most, but it doesn’t mean they’re not a threat, so stay alert and cautious,” Scorpius advises, stopping at a tall metal gate.
He reaches for the handle and pulls it open. Moonlight catches on the metal designs of the entryway, and I discover images of foxes running and wrestling and napping on the borders and bars of the gate door. The details of the playful metallic art are captivating. I can practically smell the steel wildflowers that have been welded to the bottom half of the gate, little fox heads and ears peeking up through the blooms.
A steep set of stairs leads us down below street level, and almost immediately I sense a change in the atmosphere. It morphs from the tranquil early hours of the morning to something heavy, something seedier. It’s as though the air has a taint to it, and I’m all at once alert and wary. Skull knocks on a towering metal door that waits at the bottom of the stairs. A peephole opens up high on the door with a clunk, and a hint of red light spills out. One large eye peeks out and takes us in. The iris inspecting us is a soft purple surrounding a pupil that looks more like a cut gem with all of its rainbow-like facets and angles.
“If you dare dine on fox, beware the fangs,” Skull intones, and after a slow blink of the eye at the door, the peephole shuts and the large door opens.
Thick treacly incense practically slaps me across the face as I step into the grand entry. Soft reddish-orange firelight blankets the room, but there are no hearths or flames in sight. Sultry music winds its way around the space with no identifiable source. The floors are black and buffed to shine, making them look more akin to the surface of a glassy lake than whatever stone they might be. The walls surrounding us are a creamy, soft tangerine with thick black molding at the ceiling and floor and around the various doorways that lead elsewhere. But none of that is the reason why my stomach drops and my muscles tense.
No.
It’s the fae that are draped on the fox-orange settees dotted around the entrance hall. The ones wearing scraps of fabric or nothing at all. Males and females alike, sitting, waiting, and some playing with one another, tells me exactly where I am…a flesh house.
Dozens of eyes take us in, assessing, calculating, anticipating what we might want, what we might need. Unease climbs up my back as a male rises and sensually strides toward us. Silky garnet-hued hair falls down his back, undulating behind him as he moves closer, like a well-fed cat appraising its next meal. Steel bars run through both of the male’s nipples, and I notice the same treatment in a line down the shaft of his flaccid dick.
“Is it business or pleasure that brings the Order of Scorpions into the Den on this fine fortuitous morning?” the male asks, his velvety rich tone slipping out of his mouth like some unspoken promise of debauchery and licentiousness.
“We seek the quad, Nero,” Scorpius answers, and the male nods, a salacious smile spreading swiftly over his face.
“Very well. Follow me, Scorpions,” he invites, his rich brown eyes falling on me for a half a beat longer than anyone else, before he turns and saunters toward a dark doorway.
A fox tail catches my eye as it swishes behind the fae as he strolls ahead of us. I study the movement, unable to help myself, wondering what it would be like to have a tail. Then I realize what it is and feel daft as fuck. It’s not a limb. It’s not a part of him at all. It’s a fury accessory that’s attached to the plug that’s seated in his ass. I look away quickly, only to land on a room draped in dark orange light. There’s plush seating edging the small space, offering observers the perfect view of the female dangling from the ceiling by the chains at her wrists. She’s bare and breathing hard as she squirms to get away from a male who has his hand working between her thighs.
A dagger is in my palm and I’m stepping toward the room when a strong hand grips my shoulder.
“It’s pleasure, not pain,” Bones tells me as he points back toward the room while holding me in place. “The Vulpi aren’t slavers; the fae that live here do it of their own free will,” he explains as I turn back to the chained female.
Her face is still scrunched up like she’s suffering, but just as I start to doubt Bones’s assessment, she throws her head back and starts a steady chant ofyes. I can’t hear her, only read her lips, the room must be warded, but her obvious exclamations morph into what looks like a euphoric scream, and then release surges out of her in a deluge that sprays around the room. The spectators cheer, rubbing her shower all over themselves or licking it off one another, and I turn away, shocked.
My dagger slips back into its sheath, and I train my eyes on the knot of hair at the back of Skull’s head as we’re led deeper into theDen. Lurid sounds dare me to peek, but I hold strong. The guards back at the ludere talked incessantly about their favorite flesh houses and what went on in them. It’s how Leto came up with half of the things he wanted to try, but none of the crass conversations I’ve overheard prepared me for something like this. Especially not Bones’s comment about how no one here is being forced to do anything. That should make me feel better, but I mostly feel like I did with Eacon walking through a crowd for the first time. I’m out of place and being bombarded by smells, sounds, and sights that I don’t know what to do with.
My body is reacting to the stimulation, which has me feeling even more on edge because I don’t want anything to cloud my judgment while we’re in here. I don’t want to think about the reasons that Scorpius knows the name of the male in front of us. Or why Neroaskedif they were here for business or pleasure as though it could be either. I’m not bothered by their sexual history or that a place like this might be appealing. The stars know that Bones watched Leto devour my cunt that night in the wine cellar and has never uttered a complaint about it, but I can’t stop wondering what they do here when the answer is pleasure and not business.
Would they do it to me?
Are they intimately familiar with the piercings in Nero’s dick? Dotheyenjoy squirted showers of desire? Do they watch, like to be watched, fuck as a group, or go off on their own? I want to know, but that’s not what we’re here for. I’m distracted, and I don’tdodistracted. If this were the ludere, my back would be in raw strips right now. The masters had no tolerance for wandering thoughts. I don’t either, and yet here I am struggling. I’ve crossed a line with these Scorpions, and now I’m wondering how they like to have their cocks sucked instead of watching the shadows for potential threats.
What is wrong with me?
A small growl of disapproval snakes out of me. It’s loud enough to have both Skull and Scorpius glancing back at me. I ignore them as I do my best to shake off the lusty cloud of this place and sink into a hunting frame of mind.
