by Lexi C. Foss
Issac shrugged at the two Hydraians who seemed quite disappointed in her lack of a reaction. They would hopefully have a better time entertaining the humans being let in downstairs. At least two hundred minds, from what his senses told him. Perhaps more. He closed off the majority of their visual receptors in his mind, only allowing in a few key players throughout the building as a sort of security measure. He could never be too sure with all the threats lying in wait.
Stas froze at the ice wall before them. It was illuminated by a faint blue bulb that rivaled the others around them. There were trails on either side. Astasiya chose left, leading them to another icy brick. “A maze,” she said flatly.
“It would appear that way,” he agreed. “Where to, love?”
She responded by heading back the way they came and taking the other path. Several twists and turns later, with a few surprises along the way that didn’t faze Astasiya, landed them in yet another stairwell. It seemed the winter wonderland part of the journey wasn’t nearly as interesting as the first level, at least to his goddess. If she realized a water elemental had crafted the scene, changing ice layers as they moved through it, she may have been more impressed.
“This is getting old,” she grumbled as they reached the top.
Strobe lights streamed through the entrance, matching the thudding beat of hard metal. Cries for help littered the air as they stepped through the threshold, causing Astasiya to move into Issac’s side.
She crept forward while keeping a death grip on his hand.
Issac sensed the Hydraians up ahead but said nothing as she wandered right into their trap. They leapt out at her with chainsaws, sending her skipping several steps with a curse.
He chuckled as he followed, shaking his head at the two idiots in masks. The humans, of course, would enjoy all of this. Astasiya just seemed irritated. She eyed the checkered walls and floors ahead of them and sighed. “A butcher’s kitchen? This is ridiculous.”
“Take it up with Balthazar, love.”
She muttered something uncomplimentary under her breath while walking through the fake slaughter, blood, and gore. When another actor in a mask greeted her, she flipped the male off and continued on her way.
“Tell me this ends soon,” she said.
“Three down, four to go. However, I do believe we’ve caught up to some of the others finally.” There were several parties of two and four that went through before them—all testing the layers before the public entered.
As Astasiya and Issac reached the next level, the door closing firmly behind them, he understood why.
No light.
Overwhelming electronic bass.
A slithering maze of insanity, pitfalls, dead ends, and more.
“Right, then,” he murmured. “The other levels were all a warm-up for the next four floors.”
“Great,” she whispered back at him as someone screamed up ahead. “Just great.”
3
Stas
Spiders, pools of blood, fire, and monsters that appeared far too real. By the time Stas finished with it all, she wanted to retreat upstairs for a long bath. “I can’t believe you made me go through every floor.” She shivered while her demon chuckled.
“Full experience, remember?”
“One I could live without.”
“It’s all glamour, darling.” His lips curled into one of his trademark sinful smiles. “I still can’t believe all of those things frighten you, but Osiris does not.”
“Oh, he scares the shit out of me. I face him out of necessity. That”—she pointed to the stairwell they’d just escaped from—“is pointless horror that causes heart attacks for no viable reason.”
“You don’t approve of my theatrics?” A sensual voice asked from up ahead. “Perhaps you should take her to level thirteen, Wakefield. Might be more her speed.”
Stas met Balthazar’s warm gaze and cocked a brow. “Is it more blood and gore?”
“Only for those requesting it,” he murmured, a sinful note to his tone. The Hydraian Elder oozed sexual energy, even now, in a darkly lit hallway leading to who the fuck knew where. “The heart of the party, sweetheart.”
Always listening to my thoughts, she said to him, smiling. Issac wasn’t a fan of Balthazar’s mind-reading ability, but it didn’t bother her. Balthazar always kept her confidence, never sharing her feelings or words without permission. He treated everyone in a similar manner, except for maybe her demon. Though, she suspected that was part of their rivalrous friendship.
“As for floor thirteen, feel free to venture upward to find out,” Balthazar added with a smirk.
“A fetish-themed arena.” Issac’s palm slid to her lower back, branding her skin. “We intend to skip that portion of your party.”
Balthazar shrugged. “To each his own.” He pulled a phone from the pocket of his jeans and read something from the screen. Aside from the mobile and pants, he wore nothing else.
“As the party host, shouldn’t you be in a costume?” she asked.
He cocked a brow. “Who says I’m not wearing one?”
She eyed his chiseled physique. “Yeah, okay, I’ll bite. What are you supposed to be?”
“I’ll give you a hint instead.” He slipped the device back into his pants, his dark eyes sparkling with intent. “I was fully dressed this morning. However, several guests are now wearing articles of my clothing. Keepsakes, if you will. What am I?”
Uh… Stas glanced at her demon, who just shook his head with a small smile. “I have no idea,” she admitted.
“He’s sex,” Issac murmured.
“Sex?” she repeated.
“Yes. He’s indulged significantly today, granting each of his conquests a keepsake to remember him by, and lost his attire in the process. I presume he’ll spend the rest of his evening sans clothing once he finds a final partner.”
“That’s…” Yeah, she had no words.
“Well done, Wakefield.” Balthazar pushed off the wall with a charming grin. “I would reward you with my final piece of clothing, but I’m needed in the pool outside. Feel free to join us later.”
“Water volleyball?” Stas asked, remembering what Issac had mentioned earlier.
“Among other things,” Balthazar replied, his alluring gaze swirling with innuendo. “Lizzie and Jay are dancing. Perhaps have a whirl and then come down for a dip.” He winked at Issac before disappearing through the stairwell.
“Are they swimming in blood?” she asked, baffled.
Issac chuckled. “No. However, Tristan would certainly enjoy that.”
She snorted. Issac’s best friend and progeny was not her favorite Ichorian. “I’d like him to swim in a vat of his own blood.”
Her demon laughed outright as he shook his head. “Come on, love. Let’s have a dance and then decide how to spend the rest of our evening. There are still eight floors of madness left unvisited beyond this one.”
She glanced up at him. “We don’t have to see them all, right?” Because the levels of hell had been more than enough to satisfy her Halloween inclinations for at least a decade.
He pulled her closer, his lips brushing her ear. “Our suite is the only room in this entire building that truly matters to me.”
Butterflies took flight in her lower belly at the suggestion. “We could just go there?”
“After we make an appearance,” he whispered. “Or Elizabeth will be very disappointed in us, and I, for one, do not wish to be reprimanded.”
Fair point. “Okay. We go dance for a little while, then escape.” Which was what they should have done to begin with, but for reasons that remained elusive to her, Issac had wanted to go through the haunted floors.
Normalcy, my ass.
She shuddered just thinking about the too-real snake pit from the final level. Dancing sounded far safer.
Issac guided her toward the soft buzz of music coming from a room up ahead, and they paused at the threshold. A handful of Hydraians she recognized were line dancing throug
hout the suite.
Where did they put all the furniture?
“Hmm, right, let’s try the next room,” Issac murmured, his palm against her lower back.
The new one seemed to be a techno rave. Jacque was popping around the room—literally—in a classic chauffeur’s outfit. “How appropriate,” she mused.
“Indeed,” Issac replied, leading her to the next suite—salsa music.
“Okay, this is creative,” she admitted. “As was finding ways to repurpose hallways and adjoining rooms below.”
“Blueprints,” Luc said as he joined them in the hallway from their next stop. How he heard them over the mosh pit thriving behind him was beyond her. He shut the door, quieting the corridor to a dull hum.
“What are you?” she asked, taking in his jeans, button-down shirt, and artfully placed ruler in his belt.
“The architect of this party,” he replied, pushing a pair of fake glasses up the bridge of his nose.
Is that a calculator in his other pocket?
“You and Balthazar certainly outdid yourselves,” Issac said, his arms circling Stas’s waist as he laid his chin on her shoulder. The movement struck her as territorial, done not out of jealousy but as a way of confirming his place at her side. While Luc had yet to outwardly say anything, everyone knew he didn’t approve of this relationship. No one did.
“I designed the maze,” Luc said, his dimples appearing briefly. “The mortals are going to love it, assuming they make it to the end.”
And that was the entire point. There were exits on each floor—something Stas noticed a few times on their way up—for those to depart if the horror became too much.
“That’s why there’s a pool party going on downstairs,” she said, finally realizing the whole point. If the humans reached the end, they could party up here with the Hydraians. Otherwise, they returned to the lower level to join Balthazar in the swimming area. “Brilliant.”
“Yes, the only way to reach this floor and the one above us is through that specific door.” Luc pointed down the hall to the one she had no desire to go back through again. “Unless you have a specific key card that grants you access via elevator, which only our true guests possess.”
“Allowing the mortals access to the other floors as well, should they choose to enter,” Issac mused. “As always, your genius impresses me.”
Luc shrugged. “It provides a diversion that my people require. Especially now.” A solemn air settled around them, one that prickled her skin and sent a foreboding shiver down her spine. “Enjoy the evening, both of you. We’ll need to discuss soon what the future holds for us all, but not tonight. Tonight we celebrate life and love, and the pending nuptials between an old friend and a new one.”
“Cheers, Lucian.” Issac hugged Stas harder. “You enjoy your evening as well.”
“Oh, I intend to. I’m on my way to play naked water…” His gaze went to something behind them. “What the hell are you doing here?” he snapped. “I specifically ordered you to stay in Hydria.”
“And I specifically ignored that command,” a feminine voice replied with mock sweetness.
Stas shifted and found a familiar brunette wearing nothing but fig leaves. Eliza dressed as Eve, and wow, did she pull it off. Not that Luc seemed all that impressed by it.
“How did you convince Jacque to teleport you here?” The Hydraian King demanded.
“I have my ways,” Eliza replied. “Not that it’s any of your fucking business.”
His blond eyebrows shot up. “Any of my business? Do you have any idea whom you are talking to?”
“Oh, sorry, you’re right. Not that it’s any of your fucking business, Your Majesty.” She curtsied low, her dark eyes mocking. “Better?”
Luc looked more flustered than Stas had ever seen him. “You’re going home. Now.”
Eliza laughed. “Yeah, good luck with that.” She turned on her four-inch stiletto heels and started down the hall. “Toodles.”
“You think this is a joke?” he demanded, following her. “This is your life, Eliza.”
She rounded on him. “Exactly. So stop telling me what to do.”
Tension vibrated through each step as he approached Eliza. Most Hydraians would cower. She met him head-on, hands on her hips, expression challenging. Such a strong woman, especially after everything she’d endured. And stubborn as hell, from what Stas had gathered.
“I’m trying to protect you, something you would realize if you ceased all this childish behavior.” Luc sounded so patient, yet his irritation was palpable.
“Childish?” She scoffed. “You are the one treating me like a child.”
“Because you insist on acting like one,” Luc replied. “You’re going back to Hydria. Now.”
“No.” She folded her arms and glowered up at him.
“No,” he repeated, his voice calm and steady. “You continue to defy me at every turn despite everything I’ve offered you. Fine, Eliza. Endanger yourself. But when your rebirth occurs too early, do not look to me for answers.” He left her glowering after him as he disappeared through the stairwell.
“Thinks he knows me,” she muttered. “I’ll show him.” She marched off after Luc, hands fisted at her sides.
“I’ve never seen Lucian lose his temper,” Issac said as the door slammed behind Eliza. “Fascinating that the young fledgling brings it out of him.”
“That was Luc losing his temper?”
Issac gazed down at her. “Well, yes. He left.”
She considered his words and frowned. Luc always maintained a nonchalant, yet calculative, persona in her presence. He also debated her at every turn, especially when he felt his point needed to be heard. And, admittedly, the Hydraian King was usually right, hence his position of leadership among the immortals.
Yet, he walked away. “Huh.” She blinked. “You’re right.”
“I usually am,” he murmured, his arms coming around her again. “Now, what do you say we continue meandering along this dancing hall, make our presence known in the final room, and then venture upstairs?”
She gazed up at him over her shoulder. “I like the sound of that.”
His sapphire gaze lit up. “Look at that—I’m right again.”
“You wear arrogance so well,” she whispered, brushing her lips against his. “Now let’s get this socializing over with.” And maybe find you a blood drink to help quench your thirst. Her stomach somersaulted at the thought. She’d forgotten about that being a necessity for the evening.
The only way they could enjoy each other later was if his other needs were met, and Issac only drank fresh from the source. Which meant they needed to find a donor.
“I’m quite sure I don’t like that look.” Issac turned her in his arms, his head cocked to the side. “What has you perplexed, Aya?”
Damn him for reading her so well. “Um…” She cleared her throat. “Well, I was just thinking that you should, maybe, drink from someone before we head upstairs.”
All the playful energy between them died as his body tensed against hers. “You think my control will slip?” The edge in his voice sent a chill down her spine. “That I’ll bite you in error?”
“No, it’s not that.” She wasn’t explaining this right. “I just meant, you need to feed.”
His eyebrows shot up. “Do I?”
“Well, yes. You’ve not fed since…”
“Since when?” he prompted, letting her go and taking a step back. “When was my last feed, Astasiya?”
The day of my rebirth. Three weeks ago.
Yeah, so much for their “normal” evening. She ran her fingers through her hair, her back hitting the wall. “Don’t make me say it.” Her heart couldn’t take it. Not after everything they’d been through. “Please.”
He sighed, “Aya.” He pulled her into his arms again, and she collapsed against his chest.
“I’m sorry. It’s just, I know what you need, Issac. I can’t ignore it.”
His strength rolled ov
er her in waves of warmth that caressed her senses. Peppermint and sandalwood—two scents she always associated with him. She breathed deep, taking him into her lungs while allowing his presence to soothe her in ways no one else could. Her heart beat in time with his, her soul rejoicing at having him so near, while her mind remained uncertain.
She hated this. It wasn’t fair. All she wanted was the one thing she could never really have. She wanted to scream, to cry, to hide.
“We promised to fight,” he whispered.
“I know,” she replied. “I am.” Why else would she suggest he feed from someone else? He had to know that it would hurt her on a fundamental level to see him with another person. To watch his lips caress a neck that didn’t belong to her.
“I’ve been alive a long time, Astasiya. I know my body, and I will tell you when I require blood.”
She shook her head. “But I don’t understand. It’s been weeks.”
“A detail that has me troubled as well, but I feel fine.” He grabbed her chin and forced her to meet his gaze. “I need you to trust me, Aya. This will never work without your faith in me.”
“Of course I trust you, Issac.” She wouldn’t be standing here with him if she didn’t.
His midnight-blue eyes searched hers. “Then why doubt me on this?”
“It’s not doubt. I’m just… I miss you, and I thought… I thought it might help.” She tried to look away, but he held her with ease.
His pupils flared. “We’ll socialize as expected, then we’re going upstairs to continue this conversation. Naked. Understood?”
She swallowed, her mouth going dry. “Y-yes.”
“Brilliant.” His lips touched hers, sealing their vow. “Let’s go celebrate.”
4
Issac
Thirty minutes. That’s how long Issac promised to remain in this room before he dragged Astasiya upstairs.
Then his sister intervened by asking him to dance. He could never refuse Amelia anything, especially this. After all, it was she who taught him the Baroque style, as well as numerous others. Not that they were following any rules now. The room wasn’t big enough, nor were there enough participants who knew the format. Instead, they followed a more contemporary style with their own improvisations.
