“Then you’d better act decisively. As the souls depart, a reaper will be present to collect them. An enchantment has already been cast to keep uninvited spirits away. When our demons claim their human bodies, Lucian and his team will set to mending them. Make the cuts fatal but discreet—no unnecessary slashing. We’ll do our best to repair your damage.”
“You’re going to need a lot of blood.”
The easiest way to transmute a body was to bleed it until the heart gave up, then once the original soul vacated and the new one took possession, to infuse the body with fresh blood and administer electric shocks to restart the heart. It was a delicate business that must be done quickly, before the brain shut down completely.
“We’ve been stocking up,” Lena said. “The demons will be hungry when they awaken.” She glanced at Lucian. “Our servants will need to be replenished after tomorrow night.”
Her plan just got more and more murderous. “Couldn’t you have robbed a blood bank?” I asked, frustrated by her wastefulness and utter disregard for human life.
She shot me a look of reproach. “We won’t feed our newly risen brothers and sisters cold leftovers. This is a cause for celebration and not a time to be stingy. They must have a sampling of the bounty that is to come. This feast is our winter harvest.”
She prattled on about the night’s planned entertainments while a revelation was made plain to me. I couldn’t possibly leave you in their custody, for they would destroy everything good and true about you. Your soul in their hands meant they could torture you to death, only to resurrect your spirit in another body, and do it all over again. And once they discovered my treachery, they surely would do that or worse.
I was so lost in thought that I missed my mother’s address.
“Beg your pardon?” I asked when I noticed she and my brother both staring at me.
“I asked if you’d like to demonstrate your sexual dominance over your lover for the enjoyment of our guests. I hear he’s quite the performer.”
“No,” I answered flatly. “Our pleasure is a private matter.”
“Suit yourself.” She shot a meaningful glance at Lucian that further exacerbated my fears.
No matter the outcome of tomorrow night, I would not abandon you to their devices. I prayed for Azrael to guide my sword and for the gods to have mercy on your soul.
44
Orlando
Iwas losing my grip on reality. I’d spent less than two days in Lena’s compound—most of it in that dreamlike bedroom—and I couldn’t focus on anything except sex.
They fitted you in your traditional Roman garb of an oiled leather breastplate with the Medusa emblem over your sternum, and I thought about how the leather straps cut into the muscles of your broad back and how a similar leather had felt across my own skin when you’d harnessed me.
It didn’t help that you were shirtless underneath with only short leather cuffs protecting your wrists and forearms. They made your biceps look huge, too big to be contained. Your woolen skirt barely reached mid-thigh, and you were nude underneath. Endless possibilities. With the helmet and red horsehair, you were a real-life Roman fantasy.
I was so enthralled by your fitting I didn’t notice I was touching myself, until your brother brought it to my attention with a pointed look and a quirk of his eyebrows. I stuffed my hands behind my back, mortified by my lack of control. Who jerks off in a room full of people? You only shook your head and suggested to Lucian that if they lessened their influence, they might increase their servants’ productivity.
They weren’t really servants though, were they? They were slaves. Is that what I was destined to become, your blood slave?
You didn’t tell me much about what Lena had planned for the night. I was supposed to perform the Dance of the Golden Idol in full costume. I figured there would be some mock battle between you and your brother. And judging from the fact that all the servants had just bathed, I figured sex and blood were on the menu.
La Bayadère’srun had concluded with Sunday’s matinee, so at least I didn’t have to worry about abandoning the company. But Bruno would notice my absence. I hoped he wasn’t too worried.
When it was time for me to don my own costume, you insisted that you be the one to paint me. I couldn’t help my erection. My skin had never felt so sensitive before. Every stroke of the paintbrush made me shiver. My face was flushed from trying to hold it in, and I could barely catch my breath. Finally, you set the paint aside, removed your sword belt, and bent me over the cold marble table for a hard, messy fuck. Your weapons glinted just inches from my face, taunting me as you fisted my hair, and I came with a breathless howl. There were people everywhere and I didn’t even care. Afterward, I felt like I had to make explanations for my shamelessness.
“I can’t control it.”
You gave me a wry grin. “I wish we were in different circumstances so I could properly enjoy your heightened state of arousal.”
I agreed. This shit was embarrassing.
Once we were both properly costumed and relatively spunk-free, you reminded me again that I needed to ignore whatever was happening around me and focus on following your instructions. I nodded in agreement, but when we arrived at the crowded hall—which looked unrecognizable—I kind of lost my mind.
I worked with dancers, and we were pretty comfortable with our bodies. There had been a few threesomes here and there, a casual blowjob in the dressing room, or a quickie in the showers. I wasn’t a prude, but the things I was witnessing in that room were straight out ofCaligula, the hardcore porn version, only with a lot more blood and man-on-man-on-man action.
My eyes must have been bugging out. I saw sex positions I didn’t know were possible and a train of people so long I couldn’t see where it ended or began. Everyone was fucking, feeding, or bleeding. I turned toward the stage where two men were wiping down its surface. It seemed a wrestling match of some sort had taken place. The loser—
I gasped and took a step back. Everything I’d eaten that day started roiling in my gut. I was going to throw up.
