Grave Signs (Hellgate Guardians Book 4)

by Ivy Asher

  It doesn’t help that nearly everyone in here has feathered wings like the disguised ones on my own back—an Abdicated trait. There are some servants around like Delta with no wings, or some imps cleaning up various messes throughout the room, but other than that, Abdicated are everywhere.

  The further into the festivities I wander, the more I discover that this party lives up to the expectations of the sin of Gluttony. At the far end of the ballroom, there’s a pop-out section with huge glass windows that overlook a Hellish sky. It’s pitch black aside from the blazing dots of blood-red stars that look way bigger than the stars we have back in the Mortal Realm. The sky would be eye-catching, if it weren’t for the setup in front of the windows that demands attention.

  There’s a massive trio of fountains located there, each one spouting up in graceful arcs before splashing into the basin below. Demons have flocked around them, because based on the color alone, it’s not water those fountains are flowing with. If I had to guess, I’d say it’s white wine, champagne, and probably the demon spirits that Medley told me about.

  Abdicated are dipping their glasses in each one and tossing their drinks back, gulping it down like it’s the nectar of the gods. On either side of the fountains, there are banquet tables that look like they’re as long as a damn bowling lane. They’re completely overflowing with plates and platters and bowls. It’s more food than I’ve ever seen in my entire life. My mouth waters just looking at it, and the smell. Holy smokes, the smell.

  I shouldn’t be able to smell it when it’s so far away, but it’s like there’s some crazy gluttonous power in the air drawing me in, making my stomach cramp with hunger and my mouth go dry with thirst. It’s clear the Abdicated are equally as affected and giving in to the indulgence of it all, because everyone in here is imbibing.

  I force my eyes away from the table, just in case there really is some Hellish lure at play here. I can’t afford for the Sin of Gluttony to blur my purpose. My eyes lift, and I immediately spot an open balcony stretched across the side of the ballroom. I pause, pressing my winged back against the wall as I casually try to study the scene.

  More Abdicated are up there, and it’s like they have their own little private VIP area where they’re watching the partygoers below. My eyes scan the balcony crowd but snag to a stop when I spot blond wings and hair. The owner looks young, and I debate for a moment if that could really be Tazreel. He seems older than me, but he doesn’t appear to be old enough to be a father.

  I note his height, matching it to the few inches over six feet that Delta described. I note the proud jut of his chin and the tone of his skin. I can’t be positive that it’s him, but as I take in the winged beings around him, ticking off things that match what I’ve been told about the Sins, I realize that I have to be staring at Pride. I’m staring at...my father.

  Nerves start to flutter through my stomach, and I take a deep breath as I look up at the balcony. It makes sense for the Seven Sins to be up there, lording over the party. A part of it, but set above.

  I quickly scan the ballroom again to see if I can spot my sisters, but rather than finding them, I discover someone intensely watching me. An Abdicated. One of Morax’s.

  Shit!

  Panic pounds through me, and I immediately force my face to go expressionless while I inwardly chastise myself. I wasn’t focused on my mind control mask I’ve been perfecting. Did I slip? Did I do anything that would give myself and possibly my sisters away?

  I think through everything I’ve done since I arrived here, and all I can come up with is that I’ve tried to blend in and I’ve looked for Tazreel, but that’s what I’m supposed to be doing, so maybe I’m okay.

  Worry writhes through me like a worm through an apple, but I can’t show that. So I take a breath and make sure my mindless robot mask is secure as I head in the direction of the Seven Sins’ balcony.

  I feel eyes on me as I go, but I don’t dare look around. Instead, I grab hold of the darkness at my core and pull it to me like a shroud, ready to cover myself at a moment’s notice in case Morax pops up to offer a friendly word or two. At least then I’d know what he looks like, so maybe that wouldn’t be an entirely bad thing.

  The feeling of being watched intensifies as I cross the room, weaving in and out of party patrons. It causes the hair on the back of my neck to rise in warning. My gaze lifts without permission, my instincts warring with alarm skittering over me, but my gaze freezes on a figure up ahead. Shock explodes in my mind, and my feet stumble to a stop. My eyes flare. My heart pounds.

  He’s leaning against the wall at the foot of the balcony stairs, his position bored, but his form delectable in his crisp black matte-silk suit. Taupe skin, short horns in front of slicked-back espresso hair, and ginger wings hanging at his back. Even from my distance in the chandelier dimmed room, I note the scars down his face and the piercing glinting through his nose. I can see the harsh brows and his startling blue eyes because he’s staring right at me.

  I know that face. I know his voice even better.

  Ire.

  Crap! I immediately look away from him, only for my traitorous eyes to swing right back. This time though, his piercing gaze is no longer trained on me, but is back to scanning the crowd.

  What is he doing here?

  He looks as though he could be doing some kind of security detail with how he’s standing in the way of the stairs that lead up to the balcony, but I get the impression he’s looking for someone.

  A pale hand reaches out and pats his bicep, and my eyes snap from Ire to the girl next to him who I somehow didn’t notice until now. I’m not sure how I overlooked her or the sheer red dress she’s squeezed into, her dark nipples showing plain as day. Why not just go naked, I wonder. Seems like a waste of money on a dress for all it’s showing.

  Ire says something to her, and she giggles and does that whole bicep touch again. She leans toward him, pressing her breasts against his arm as she whispers something in his ear, which makes a smirk crawl across his face. And just like that, her questionable fashion choice isn’t the only red I’m seeing.

  A low-burning anger clicks to life in my belly like a gas stove lighting. Didn’t he say that I was his mate? I mean, yes, we don’t know each other, meeting in a dream isn’t exactly the meet-cute of dungeons and torture that I had with my other mates, but still. Shouldn’t that term mean something to this jerk?

  The last he knew, I was being held captive in a cage, and yet here he is, dressed to the nines, flirting with waste of a dress Boobs McGee, and sipping on champagne.

  I grit my teeth and look away, veering off course. He’s standing in front of the only entrance to get up onto the second story balcony, which is a huge problem for me, and my heart is hammering in my chest so hard that I need a second to think.

  I’m a little surprised by the intense emotion that cyclones through me at what I just witnessed. I try to calm the anger and indignation I feel bubbling up through my system. I tell myself that I don’t actually know him or have any kind of claim, but then an over-the-top giggle reaches my ears, and I lose the traction I just gained with my logical side.

  I beaconed him, and accidental or not, he knows it. For all he knows, I’m off being tortured right now and yet, he doesn’t even seem to care. I scoff and seethe inside. What a prick. Well, good riddance then. I wouldn’t have wanted such an arrogant shit for a mate, anyway.

  Except...I can taste the lie in my mouth as those thoughts flash through my mind. Because yes, the rude, arrogant, short-tempered bastard irritates me, but there’s also something there. I must’ve beaconed him for a reason, no matter how unclear those reasons may be now. Annoyance with myself and the situation flickers to life, burning right alongside my anger, fueling it, making it grow hotter and stronger. Which of course, is the worst possible thing I can do, because every time I get angry, I seem to—

  “You.”

  His voice rings through my head, and I nearly bump into a couple as I unintentionally cros
s into the dancing portion of the ballroom floor. I mutter out an apology as I try to keep my emotionless mask, but I don’t know if I’m succeeding or not. I’m just so pissed.

  Damn my stupid emotions! I want to slap my skanky, beacon-hungry anger who keeps calling out to Ire like a one-night stand who can’t take a hint.

  “I can feel you,” his cold, smooth tone says in my mind. “You’re here,” he declares with surprise.

  “Well, that makes two of us, buddy,” I snarl.

  “What makes two of us?” he asks, and I can tell he’s scanning the room for me.

  “What? Nothing. I’m not here,” I quickly amend.

  “Liar,” he growls, all the confusion gone from his tone. In its place is a building fury I can feel as if it’s my own, and an odd thrill tickles down my spine and wraps forward at my hips, right before it drips down between my thighs.

  I move away calmly, doing everything I can not to draw attention to myself as I try to make sense of what the hell just happened to my body. It’s like his proximity is scrambling my sensors somehow, and my reactions to him are anything but normal.

  I look around to see if anyone is watching me, but I don’t see the Abdicated that I saw before. Dammit. Ire is a serious wrench in my plan. And my plan can’t fail.

  “Leave me alone,” I hiss, as I fall deeper into the thick throng of Abdicated partying all around me. I move out of the way of the dancers, but as I do, I step into the line of vision of another Abdicated watching me with barely concealed suspicion.

  My pulse pounds in time with the concert going on from the boisterous musicians at the other end of the ballroom. Morax’s crony follows my every move.

  “Where are you?” Ire demands like a barrage of thunder that refuses to be tuned out.

  “I’m nowhere,” I reply tersely, thankful for the first time that I’m not wearing my own face. Then I realize with a jolt that I’m not wearing my own face. Why am I running? Frustration streaks through me at that realization. I can walk right by him, and he won’t be able to recognize me.

  Duh, Sable. Get your act together!

  I turn around, trying to make it look like some kind of dance move and not me just being an idiot and panicking for no reason. Lifting my chin, I square my shoulders so that I mimic the rest of the Abdicated in here, doing my best to pretend like I belong. No one ever questions someone who looks like they’re supposed to be there, right? I’ll just breeze right past the prick. Even if he is some kind of security detail, Little Miss See-Through Dress seemed to be all the distraction I need. I’ll just use that to my advantage.

  I retrace my panicked retreat, weaving past bodies again, the scent of food, alcohol, and the sweet Hellish air growing thicker with every passing moment. Dresses brush up against my body as I squeeze past demons, and the sparkling chandelier light adds to the indulgent atmosphere. Too bad my insides are far too messy to appreciate any of it.

  If only these demons knew that the Ophidian was amongst them. If only they realized that if he has his way tonight, this party will become a slaughter. If that happens, it won’t be the alcohol that’s flowing, it’ll be blood and terror.

  “You’ve been blocking me.”

  I blink at Ire’s words, confusion filtering through me. Blocking him?

  I don’t reply to him though, I just stay the course. Maybe if I don’t talk back, he’ll turn his attention back to the nipples.

  “I’m going to find you…”

  His threatening words should make a chill travel through me, but instead of foreboding, I feel excited. WTF? I need to get my head examined when all is said and done. I think one too many blows to the head have left me damaged. I shake off the eager electricity sparking through my system and pick up the pace. Hope soars when I find the stairway to the balcony is now unoccupied. Ire is gone.

  I look around as much as possible without being too obvious, and then I take my chance. I dart forward, confidence in my every step, my head held high like I’m Pride himself. I close the distance between me and the stairs.

  Ten feet.

  Seven feet.

  Four feet.

  Cocky excitement travels through me, but just as I take another step, a hand snaps out and seizes my arm, the grip whirling me around without warning. I try to swallow my surprised squeak, but it’s ripped from me just as fast as I’m ripped from my intended destination.

  My feet stumble, the long skirt of my skintight dress nearly making me trip, but I manage to stay upright as I’m spun to face the person who grabbed me.

  Startling blue eyes glare down at me, the hint of fang showing through his sinister smile, and my stomach twists.

  Ire leans forward to press his purred, furious words against my ear. “Found you.”

  29

  I freeze in Ire’s arms, stunned for a moment. How did he know it was me? He takes advantage of my shocked stillness by moving a hand from my arm to my waist, and then holding up my other hand like we’re about to waltz all our problems away.

  He starts to move, and I stumble as I look up at him with wide eyes. “What are you doing?” I whisper.

  “What’s it look like? We’re dancing, of course.”

  I look around, trying not to show the alarm I feel. My teeth grind. “Let me go.”

  He looks down at me arrogantly. “No.”

  Irritation ripples out of me, but to my annoyance, Ire breathes in deeply, like he’s taking in the most refreshing breath of air that’s ever blown on a breeze. “Ah, there’s that delicious anger,” he coos as he continues to twirl me around on the dance floor, forcing me to follow his lead or fall on my face and draw entirely too much attention to me. “You can try to hide behind a fake face, but I’d recognize the taste of your rage anywhere.”

  I want to struggle and break free of his hold, but I can’t. I can’t react too much in case someone is watching. And I know they’re watching. I can feel it.

  “You need to let me go,” I snap in my mind.

  “Not gonna happen, Snarls. You and I are going to have a little talk about your many, many lies. Now dance.”

  My gut twists from both his words and his moves as he suddenly spins us and then tips me back, forcing my spine into an arch. He traces his free hand down the deep V of the front of my dress, his touch trailing between my breasts almost to my navel, before I can so much as pick my head up from the ridiculous dip position and look at him, my gaze flaring with indignation.

  Instead of hurrying to right me, he keeps me poised like that, his face hovering over me as his eyes move slowly over my outline. He likes having me at his mercy like this, I realize. Unfortunately, I also realize that I like it too. Ugh! What is it about this guy? As if he can read my mind, his lips tilt up in a cocky smirk.

  “I never lied,” I grit out as he finally lifts me back up with a graceful flourish. He then twirls me, my feet struggling to keep up, my skirt flaring out, just before he pulls me expertly back to him, catching me mid-spin and halting my momentum. A strong hand grips my waist and fans out to the small of my back, his fingers dipping dangerously lower as he tugs me against his hard body.

  “Mmm, so pliant,” he murmurs, and I try to hold onto my anger, I do, but I’m left reeling, fighting the spark of arousal that keeps trying to stoke to a burning flame at my core.

  Holding me against his body, Ire sways us right alongside the dozens of others dancing, his steps never faltering as he takes us both through the motions. Not even my awkward, heavy steps mess him up. The male is entirely too good at this. He’s entirely too handsome too. Dangerously so.

  My brain blares with warning not to get sucked in. Danger signs flash in my head, but try as I might, I can’t discreetly push him away. His hold is too firm.

  “You need to let me go,” I attempt again, trying and failing to pull my emotion out of it. I was hoping for a genuine plea to come out of my mouth, something that would make him pause and take me seriously, but I just barked an order, and I can guess how well he’ll respond to
that.

  “Somewhere you need to be, Cinderella? Other mates to lure in and fool?” he asks me casually, but his eyes are alight with righteous anger.

  My gaze narrows at the insinuation, and I lean into him, purposely digging my fingers into his arms as hard as I can. “Let me go,” I growl, done playing whatever dumb game is afoot here. “I’m sure you can find other pursuits in red dresses to entertain your fickle ways. I’m not interested.”

  I immediately wish I could take the words back as Ire’s nostrils flare and his lips twitch with amusement. But my senseless jealousy just hangs between us, and there’s nothing I can do to tuck it back in. I quickly work to get a hold of myself and school my features, once again looking around me to try and gauge if anyone just saw my slip.

  I need to get away from this demon. I can’t afford to have anyone questioning what’s happening, and there are bigger things at stake than my pride and irritation over this perfect stranger and his penchant for thots.

  “Why do you keep looking around?” Ire demands, and if I didn’t know any better, I’d think the tang of jealousy in the air just might belong to him too.

  But I don’t have time for this anymore. My body may be perfectly happy to spend the night swaying pressed against Ire’s formidable muscle while my mind is occupied with trading barbs and snarky remarks, but my sisters are counting on me. Hell, the whole damn realm is counting on me.

  So I do the only other thing I can think of that will get me out of this without breaking character. I immediately make my face go blank again, and then I purposely go limp in his arms. No fighting. No straining or pushing. I just let him lead me. Ire’s blue eyes flash. “What game are you playing at?” he asks, irritation coating his face.

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I say, as I stay malleable and bored, not reacting or engaging at all to this game anymore. I ensure that I’m being the perfect mindless doll to observers, while also hoping that Ire will get fed up and move along. He seems like one of those cats who’s only interested in chasing the mice when they try to run. As soon as he pounces and catches his prey, he’ll get bored and go away. All I have to do is play dead.