I chuckle and walk over to where Caesar is busy buckling all his gear. Quiet but brilliant, our little submissive housemate is all but invisible sometimes unless he’s needed. I drop a kiss on his cheek as I admire the swirl of colors my primary has dyed into his undercut. “Looking good, love. Is that a new leash?”
He smiles and looks over at Leo and Sandrine. Leo is still working on the food up here, and Sandrine is getting a ponytail look that will match the naughty schoolgirl outfit. “Brand new.”
Siren walks over to me and tilts her head. “Do you have everything you need? I will be in the chair after you, but I am happy to assist while we wait.”
Shaking my head, I head for the pitcher of martinis. “I’m good. You know that costume of yours looks more like Lady Dewinter than a Victorian. Did you change your mind?”
Her lips curve. “Hex suggested I might enjoy myself more as a scheming French opportunist than a Victorian wench. Also, it meant I could find places for lovely weaponry. I found it quite fitting.”
“It is. Hex is skilled.”
Face inscrutable, she murmurs, “More than he gets credit for, I fear.”
She walks away, and I frown, trying to puzzle that one out. Everyone talks about how amazing Hex is. He’s like a crafty TV channel and fashion designer who had a full-grown man for a child. I’m about to ask her, but Sandrine leaps up from the chair, bounding over to Hex. “Hey, mister, you got a lollipop?”
He rolls his eyes and points at his stool. “Sit, you maniac, and don’t be disturbing.”
I look over at Rafe, and he grins.
We love this little family time.
Pulling me over to the vanity, he steps up on a small stool to get a higher vantage point. My boots have high heels, and I can’t sit while the latex is drying. He needs to see my entire head to do my hair. I growl as he rats it up none-too-gently—which he ignores—and prepare myself to feel like I’m being scalped. Within minutes, he’s twisted it up into a spiky fan of hair that’spinned tightly enough to make my face hurt. “What the hell are you doing?”
My primary arches a brow, reminding me that question is verboten when he’s styling us, and continues pinning, spraying, and detailing. I close my eyes, letting him work for a while without protest. I’m trying not to wince and garner his wrath, but I smell something awful. My eyes pop back open, and I see him spraying colored accents that make my hairdo look like a peacock’s tail.
I forget how talented and creative my primary is until he does things like this that wow me all over again. Rafe is an artist—with hair, with makeup, with normal art supplies—in every medium. His work is passionate, creative, beautiful, and heart-rending, but his talent is unsurpassed. Looking over at my family, I smile. “You all look hot, you know.”
Hex is in ripped leather with more straps and buckles than the swing that used to hang from the ceiling in here while Leo is in silk. He looks suave, like a romance novel hero to Sandrine’s schoolgirl. Philomena is putting on her bespoke Domme outfit, and I can’t help but worry that the heels on her shoes could be lethal weapons if someone irritates her by breathing. Caesar is trussed up and ready with his colorful hair, leash, and leather. The only one I haven’t seen yet is Victor.
He’s waiting until the very last minute to reveal his choice. It would amuse him to shock even me when he joins the fray.
I squirm a little, feeling anxious and unable to shake a gut feeling of dread about the crowd that will be present. Rafe pinches my chin, drawing my face back, so he continues working on it. “They’ll be here soon, love. Let me finish so we can greet them.”
Philomena strides over, and I see her riding crop dangling from a specially made sash at her waist. Did I mention I’m concerned about some people? I offer her a wary look without moving my face. “Did you get all the signs and arrows on the doors earlier?”
“I did, you hedonist. We can’t have people walking into magickal rooms unaware of the possibilities and having a freak-out. I’m drunk, not stupid.” She snorts and I smile as she drops onto a lounge, petting Aradia’s soft fur. “When did you put an earring in her ear?”
“I did it this morning. She matches mine,” I reply, pointing at the large sapphires in my ears.
Aradia has a small hoop with a small stone and a larger collar with stones to match the one on my neck. Twist scampers over to Philomena, looking at her. She snorts. “Your rat feels left out.”
“Oh, hell, I forgot because he was loose. P, get into that bag on the bed. Taurus brought my jewelry, Aradia’s, and something for Twist so he’d keep out of trouble.” I was a little surprised by that, but I suppose he’s more than eager to stake his claim in the showiest way possible.
She fishes out the flimsy, shiny thing and looks at me. “You can’t be serious. What in the fresh hell is this? It looks like a fruit roll.”
“I think it’s a Damien creation. Taurus said... um, he said...” I try to remember because he said it while he was doing something distracting and my brain got melted. “I think he said to lay it on his back and say, ‘Please sir, may I have another’.”
She laughs, and I look at her, and then I realize. Twist, thief, Dickens, namesake... okay, muse, I got you. With a smirk, she adopts a terrible Cockney accent that makes every male in the place wince. “Please, sir, may I have another?”
The strip glows, and a whiff of myrrh fills the air. A fine smoke puffs around the little guy, and I worry for a second that Damien has poofed my favorite thief.
It clears, and I laugh as the ferret stands on his hind legs as if he wants to shake his fist at me. No longer a pirate, he’s like a little Aladdin in his jewel-encrusted vest and pants, a tiny fez somehow perched on his head. Everyone looks at one another, and we burst out laughing, further enraging the tiny pickpocket. As if in a huff, Twist scrambles off behind the tiger as we give each other amused looks.
“I guess that was not what he expected,” Leo says, eyes dancing.
“Sometimes that’s how magick is, my friend. You don’t always get what you think you will.”
“Speaking of magick, how does this room thing work?” Siren asks from the other side of the vanity. Rafe’s about done with me, and I know he will move on to her to get people downstairs before any early birds arrive.
