From the outside, they looked normal. If I passed any of them on the street, I don’t think I’d take a second look. That was off-putting, especially if they were of the same supernatural breed as Xavier. Knowing there were people just walking around that were apparently these blood thirsty monsters, it made me feel even more stupid.
“Mariella, keep an eye on Quinn. She’ll be our guest until all this has settled down,” Xavier added casually, already turning to walk off into the darkness of the corridor behind him, a few of his henchmen at his side awaiting orders.
“Excuse me?” Mariella snapped, beating me to it. “I’m not a babysitter, we’ve had this discussion already.”
Xavier stilled, turning just enough to glance between Mariella and me, but she didn’t back down. Instead, she took a few steps forward; her face red with anger.
“Behave,” Xavier ordered, and I realised it wasn’t Mariella he was talking to, but me.
I was about to bark something on par with Mariella’s mumbled expletives, but before I could utter a word, Xavier was gone.
“What now?” I asked with a sigh, collapsing back down into the seat I’d stood up from seconds earlier. “Are we just supposed to sit here and do nothing like some polite Victorian ladies? Drinking tea and playing cards?”
Mariella huffed out a sharp laugh, shaking her head. “Not a chance.”
I stayed silent as I watched Mariella grind her teeth furiously, as though picturing every which way she could kill Xavier Sallow. To be fair, at this point, I was doing much of the same.
“I have my own way of getting information,” Mariella said, reaching over the back of the bar to grab her jacket. “If I take you with me, are you likely to get yourself killed?”
“Probably,” I shrugged. “But if it helps, I’ll try not to.”
She took a second to consider my reply before answering, “good enough for me.”
Chapter Seventeen
Wherever Mariella was planning on getting answers, she was in a rush. I braced myself on the dashboard of her Vauxhall Golf as she rammed the car into third gear to beat yet another red light. She spun around the corner onto one of London’s older, single lane streets and slammed on the breaks just a moment later. She let out a proud sigh, unbuckling her seatbelt and climbing out of the car without a second glance at me. While she had little more than a hair out of place, I must have been white as a sheet.
I’d seen my entire life flash before my eyes at least ten times in the last thirty minutes, not to mention that I’d been thrown into the passenger door and bumped my head off the roof a few times. It seemed Mariella didn’t have as much respect for my human life as Xavier did. I guess that was just one pitfall of being immortal—never having to worry that you’re about to be in a fatal car accident.
I followed her down one of the damp back allies and found her leaning against a large wooden door. She knocked four times with her fist, before kicking against the panels.
“Not this time Mariella!” A voice called from inside, barely audible above the disembodied thrum of heavy drum and bass.
“It was one time, Leslie,” Mariella replied with a wink in my direction.
Not a second later and the door swung open to reveal a tall, slender woman with flowing blonde hair. She couldn’t have been much older than me, but she had far more confidence, especially when she set her hip against the doorframe and peered down at Mariella with a look of utter dismay. “That’s exactly what you said last time.”
“You know my memory isn’t great, babe,” Mariella purred, her hand reaching out to tug on the blonde woman’s tight black dress.
I continued to hover awkwardly behind Mariella, waiting for some sort of introduction or perhaps even just the bark of an order, but nope. It was as if I didn’t exist.
Mariella’s hand let go of the woman’s dress and trailed south until her small palm slipped around the slight curve of the woman’s bare thigh.
“You feed me bullshit like this every time you come around here,” the woman argued. Meanwhile, Mariella’s hand had disappeared beneath the material and I forced myself to look away. A mixture of awe and shock made my breath quicken.
“And you eat it up every time, like the good girl you are.”
After a statement like that from Mariella, I was more than ready for the sound of a slap or punch—hell, I was even ready to pick her up off the ground when the woman gave her a beating. Much to my surprise, there was nothing but the sound of lips meeting and a gasp of pleasure from the blonde.
I cleared my throat, not willing to stand here in a filthy alleyway waiting for these two to get their rocks off.
All sounds halted before Mariella let out a grunt of frustration.
“Leslie, meet Quinn,” she muttered. “Quinn, Leslie.”
“A pleasure, I’m sure,” Leslie smiled grimly, as though my very presence was enough to irritate her.
“Cut to the chase, then. Why are you here?” Leslie turned her focus to Mariella, who pursed her lips in thought.
“We have an issue with the Silver’s,” she began. “I need to ask him what he knows.”
I didn’t know who this ‘him’ was, but I was almost certain I didn’t want to find out. There was no part of me that was ready to be introduced to yet another terrifying creature of the night. My brain was already on the brink of exploding.
“You know the rules, El. No appointment, no meeting.” Leslie shook her head as if in disbelief at Mariella’s audacity. “Especially with Xavier’s clan.”
“I get that it’s all supposed to go by the rules of the treaty, but Xavier doesn’t know I’m here.”
Leslie cut Mariella off with a sharp giggle. “That’s even worse!”
“Five minutes. That’s it,” Mariella urged. “I promise to make it worth his time.”
“And how are you going to do that?” Curiosity lifted Leslie’s thinly arched eyebrows and her gaze flickered between Mariella and me.
“Fine,” Leslie sighed, stepping aside and holding the door open for us.
The second I entered, the heady smell of burning candles and strong perfume filled my lungs, which clenched in retaliation. The slow, deep call of atmospheric music sounded from behind the paper-thin walls. I followed Mariella aimlessly, my eyes struggling to adjust to the darkness. We passed through the first of a series of rooms. Chesterfield couches in black and green, covered with plump, elegant cushions, were straddled by any number of men and women. Some people were naked, some only partially dressed. Others watched the mess of limbs and plump flesh like some obscure audience. I wanted to avert my gaze, wanted to focus on anything but the display of group sex, but I couldn’t. The men were beautiful, the women even more so, and they all seemed to moan in harmony with one another, a chorus of pleasure that made my skin feel hot and tingly.
Mariella grabbed my hand as though I’d been walking too slowly and pulled me flush against her slight back. “Stay close, don’t wander.”
I nodded, despite her having already turned away from me. I breathed in another lungful of that glorious scent as I followed, refusing to pause even as the next room came into sight. A woman, chained up by her wrists, her naked body writhing and jolting each time the three men surrounding her touched upon her bare skin. Her face was covered with a silk mask, hidden from view. Had it not been for the way her nipples perked beneath one man’s mouth, I’d have been concerned about her welfare. But no, there was no need for concern here. This was consensual. Her moans of pleasure and pleading from behind her disguise told me that with ease. A familiar warmth ignited between my thighs, which I fought against with every ounce of strength I had left. This wasn’t the time for fun. We were here for a reason—I just didn’t know the reason. To be fair, Mariella could be leading me like a lamb to the slaughter and I was none the wiser.
She paused just short of another room, slowing her pace to a more akin to cautiousness. This room was so much larger, a series of staff swanned in between the crowds elegantly, tall
glasses filled with what I presumed to be champagne on their silver trays. The slow, bass heavy music was louder here and people gathered in crowds dancing in sync with one another. It was a stunning sight, seeing so many drop dead gorgeous people all in a room together, melting against strangers, moving fluidly from one man or woman to the next.
“You know where to find him,” Leslie announced, coming to a standstill in the doorframe. “Five minutes.”
“I owe you one, Leslie,” Mariella thanked, dipping forward to plant a lingering peck on the woman’s cheek.
Leslie rolled her eyes. “I’ve heard that before.”
She spun effortlessly around and left us to fend for ourselves.
“Don’t speak, don’t move, I don’t want to explain to Xavier why your body parts are spread from here to Essex,” Mariella quipped, uncaring, before marching off towards the other end of the room without giving me a chance to question her.
We slipped through the crowds, Mariella’s hand gripping mine and tugging me past the more handsy of the patrons, until eventually, the air cleared and I could relax. It was short-lived, though. In front of us, a large rectangular table lined the far wall. A woman, naked and still as a statue, lay upon it. Her dark skin glowed beneath the dim chandeliers, beads of sweat glistening like stars in a night’s sky. Behind her were a small group of patrons, differing in size, shape, gender, and race—all talking amongst themselves. Until Mariella and I approached.
“I don’t take slaves as payment, Mariella,” a velvet voice purred from the darkness, sending a vibration down my spine so electric I almost leapt from my skin to get away from it, while at the same time praying whoever spoke, would keep talking.
“I have the money, Samael,” Mariella replied matter-of-factly and the man, whose voice had previously been disembodied, leaned forward. His midnight hair was pushed back from sharp European features. Deep yellow eyes and frosty skin glowed against the backdrop of the dark shirt that covered his tense shoulders. A muscle in his jaw tensed when his eyes roamed from my face down my body as though I were wearing nothing at all.
“Shame,” he whispered, pursing his lips as he lifted his glass and took a long swig. “I was about to say I’d make an exception for that one.”
Mariella looked back at me, her dark gaze pleading with me to remember what she had asked of me just moments ago. Whoever this guy was, he was dangerous enough to intimidate even Mariella. Which, considering she worked for Xavier, was terrifying.
“She’s already spoken for, unfortunately,” Mariella smiled deviously. “Did you know Lilith was back?”
The man’s eyebrows dipped for a second, but he hid the concern well behind a confident smile. “Is she?”
“You didn’t know?” Mariella feigned surprise, clasping a hand to her chest. “We think she’s working with the Silver’s. Could be an issue for you.”
“Could be,” he agreed, his grin widening. “I imagine if it could be an issue for me, it’s one hell of a pain in the arse for the king.”
This was the second time I’d heard Xavier referred to as king, and although it should have made me feel somewhat better about my situation, it didn’t. Instead, I felt like I was in over my head—again.
“He doesn’t know you’re here, does he?” It wasn’t so much a question as it was an observation, and the man’s eyes rolled down over my form once again.
Mariella didn’t answer but cemented her firm stance as though preparing for a fight.
“We don’t fear the Silver’s, do we?” He glanced from one side to the other. Those seated at his table shook their heads and smiled, hushed laughter ringing out amongst them until the man lifted his hand to silence them.
“Tell me, Mariella. Why did you bring Xavier’s plaything to my home? If not to give me a little taste?”
Fear gripped my chest, and I stumbled on my unsteady legs, cursing my newfound weakness. I hated this. Hated every bit of not being able to stand my ground, not being able to fight back when I was spoken to like a fucking child. Before I had a chance to push the words back down, I shoved in front of Mariella.
“I’m nobody’s plaything,” I hissed loudly, before Mariella grabbed the back of my t-shirt and pulled me back behind her. Just in time too, because all those at the table, bar the man who was clearly in charge, stood up and lunged towards us.
“Careful, little one,” he tutted, looking amused. “As much as I’d like to see what your insides look like, I can’t imagine that is something you’d wish upon yourself. Is it?” It was the first time he’d spoken to me directly, which made me feel a strange sort of accomplishment, despite his threats.
Those sitting at the table leaned back in their chairs as though nothing had happened. “What’s your name?”
Realising he was asking me; I cleared my throat and squared my shoulders as best I could. “Quinn, yours?”
He laughed; his high cheekbones so sharp I thought they might pierce the skin. “Strange name.”
“Short for Quintessa,” Mariella announced, and I audibly groaned at the sound of my full name, an automatic reaction ever since I was a child, but one I wished hadn’t appeared in this bizarre scenario. “Quintessa Laurier,” she added, as though she’d revealed more than just my birth name. My eyes lingered on Mariella for a moment, searching for any clue that I’d missed something, but my thought process was interrupted when the man spoke up once again.
“Quinn, a pleasure,” he stated, standing up and leaning across the table as if to get a closer look at my face. “I’m Samael.”
“Strange name,” I mocked, frustration causing me to pant, despite Mariella’s vice-like grip on my arm.
Samael ran the tip of his finger across his bottom lip as though in deep thought, his eyes still studying my face with intrigue. “Has he made his claim on this one?”
I frowned, looking at Mariella and waiting for her answer. Not that it would make much sense to me.
“You would have to ask him,” she shrugged, but the bulge of muscle in her jaw told me she was hiding something. It seemed even supernatural creatures couldn’t disguise their lies very well. From the expression on Samael’s face, he knew it too.
“Come now Mariella, surely we’ve known each other long enough to be honest in a casual conversation,” he glanced sideways at those seated by him, smiling smugly.
“It’s not like that,” Mariella replied calmly. “If you want to know Xavier’s business, call him. I’m not here to gossip.”
Samael nodded slowly, accepting Mariella’s answer, yet he didn’t look defeated. No, he was triumphant. Something in her words had told him everything he needed to know.
“The Silver’s are working out of an apartment close to Canary Wharf. They haven’t been welcome here for a long, long time. I don’t run an open house like our king does.”
“Where did they find the money for that?” Mariella continued, and I had to admit I’d been thinking the same thing. From what I’d seen of the Silver’s, they weren’t screaming expensive taste or old money. Their appearance was scruffy, at best.
Samael lifted his hands, feigning uncertainty. “Who knows?”
“Can I trust you haven’t heard from Lilith?”
“She hasn’t come to me, no. You can rest easy knowing that I’m not working alongside that wretched old hag.” The venom in Samael’s velvet tone was the most honest thing I’d heard from him the whole time I’d been standing there.
“I’ll leave your money with Leslie,” Mariella finalised, grabbing a hold of me and spinning us around towards the exit.
“Quintessa,” Samael called, and I stumbled to a standstill entirely against my will. My body turned as though on strings, pulling me around to stand face to face with him. He was inches from me, and I had to crane my neck to meet his eyes. “Don’t let him keep you in the dark. Something as lovely as you should see the sun.”
Chapter Eighteen
My thumb nail had been obliterated on the ride back to Omen. I’d even chewed down
on the skin, leaving it red and angry. Much like the rest of me, I figured. Mariella hadn’t eased my concerns at any point during the entire journey. Instead, she’d remained silent, her own teeth grinding behind her sealed lips.
I had to fight against the urge to ask questions. Mariella could have given me answers, but they wouldn’t be the ones I needed. Xavier was the person I needed to speak with. Whether he’d tell me the truth, I didn’t know. There was something missing here, something he wasn’t telling me, and it seemed Samael was all too aware of it. Part of me was wondering if I should’ve stuck around to ask him, but even I wasn’t stupid enough to trust yet another supe.
“They’re back,” Mariella announced as she spun her car into a space outside the club. Darkness had clouded the skies and already the place was overrun with patrons. The same girls in short skirts and men in dapper shirts flooded in through the entrance, chatting and laughing like nothing was wrong. I guess for them, nothing had changed. It was just my small world that had been blown wide open and split apart at the seams.
The doorman didn’t stop me when I pushed through the line of people and entered the club without a second glance. It seemed I’d earned my VIP status. It would’ve felt like an accomplishment if I hadn’t been so busy rehearsing what I was going to ask Xavier.
Without waiting for Mariella to catch up, I climbed the stairs to the upper floor and tunnelled down the dark, bustling hallways quickly before I changed my mind. Pale faces and withdrawn eyes studied me with a terrifying curiosity until I reached Xavier’s office and thrust the door open, momentarily concerned I’d torn it off the hinges in my eagerness.
“Quinn,” Xavier sighed, his eyes refusing to meet mine. “Do you enjoy disregarding anything I say? Or is it merely a character flaw?”
His dull, disinterested tone had me furious, and I ground my teeth in frustration. I folded my arms across my chest and stood firm, waiting for him to look at me before I spoke. It was a bad idea, because when those light eyes of his finally locked with mine, my legs were close to buckling beneath me. Memories of his mouth and hands on my bare flesh flooded my vision, and I was hit with an intense burn across my skin. It was willing me closer, encouraging me to touch him, smell him. I shook my head and drew in a deep breath, steadying the tremble that threatened my voice.
Silver Vein: Beneath the City Sleeps Book 1 Page 15
