Velvet Haven

by Sophie Renwick

  “The female,” Bran growled irritably. “I need her—now.”

  “You needn’t sound so unhappy about it. Your own uncle fell in love with a mortal.”

  “No mortal will ever ensnare me. You can count on that.” Sayer only smiled and shifted to the left, allowing Bran full access to the window and a glimpse of the woman who was to be his evening’s entertainment. “You’re just pissed because your uncle’s abdication made you king. You’d rather be playing war than ruling Annwyn.”

  Bran didn’t bother to answer. “She is rather mousy, isn’t she?” he muttered.

  Sayer shrugged. “You gave me three requirements. First, she must be free of drugs; second, she must not be ovulating; and third, she must be hungry for sex. Hours of it.”

  “And so I did.” But a part he didn’t want to acknowledge had secretly wanted to enjoy it. Although he didn’t know why he still, on occasion, longed for the impossible. It was a futile wish to desire the humans. It was only the need for power that aroused him.

  “I don’t know about mousy,” Sayer murmured with obvious appreciation. “Her body is rather delicious. All those curves.”

  She moved to the left, out of the way of some shoving mortal males. She nearly disappeared among the crowd. From his vantage point, Bran tracked her. A cloud passed and moonlight suddenly illuminated her aura.

  “Her name is Rowan. Keir introduced us this morning. He goes into her shop all the time. I thought she—”

  “She won’t do,” Bran said, leaning closer to the window to get a better view.

  “And why not?”

  “She’s marked.”

  “Marked?” Sayer squinted, his eyes narrowing, the pupil-like slit elongating, allowing him keener sight. “I don’t see anything.”

  “Her aura.” Bran motioned to the halo of color that arched around her body. “I’ve never seen a mortal with two colors before.”

  “Well, I’m no Sidhe, so I can’t see auras. In fact, I can’t see a damn thing, other than a pair of fine tits in a corset.”

  Bran furrowed his brow in annoyance. Sayer would notice those. “The colors meld, black and indigo. Black means illness, possibly imminent death. Indigo represents a highly intuitive and spiritual nature. A seeker.”

  “And you can’t sleep with her because?”

  “Because it is a bad omen to take a woman who is marked for death. And even if she is not, then the intuitive side of her is dangerous. What if she senses I am not like the men she is used to?”

  Sayer looked him up and down, noting his height, his long hair, the glittering markings at his temple, and the ones on his neck that disappeared down the front of his black T-shirt. “I think it’s safe to say that any female will find you different, seeker or not.”

  “I’m not taking risks. This one won’t do.”

  Sayer sighed with displeasure. “Well, then, what about her friend? Here, I’ll show you.”

  Closing his eyes, Sayer lifted his chin. His skin changed from its golden hue to a luminous mix of gold and orange. Pink flickered over the cords of his neck as the strobe light waved over them, the luminescence of the Selkie shifting and writhing over Sayer’s human form.

  “You’ve enchanted her already?” Bran asked with disgust.

  “I’m not opposed to your leftovers,” he said with a sly grin. “Now look down. I think I have persuaded her to show her friend.”

  Bran felt her before he saw her.

  Hiding the way her aura hit him in the gut, he gathered his control. He trusted Sayer, but not completely. Alliances only went so far in the world of Annwyn. There was no need for anyone to know just how weak he became without his mortals.

  “What do you think of her?”

  A woman with long black hair stepped forward, and he struggled to pretend indifference. The white shimmering band of her aura weaved its way over to him. Through the window it came, his magic calling it forth, beckoning it. She was strong, but there was a vulnerability there as well that engaged him, made him want to explore it. And she was passionate. He felt the desire, the longing for pleasure. The ache for sex. She wanted it but she would fight him, make him work to convince her to accept him. There was something so raw and primal about her; if he could make her submit to him, he felt he could survive off that energy for years.

  Scanning her frame, he saw that she was of small stature, even with the heels. Her body was curvy, with heavy breasts and rounded hips. Her shape was so very different from the females of his kind, who were tall and lithe, with small breasts and narrow hips. He’d always preferred the Sidhe ideal of beauty, but suddenly he was considering the merits of feeling those soft curves beneath his body.

  From where he stood he could not tell if she was pretty or plain. But that did not matter. What mattered was her aura. White meant perfect balance. It was so rare, a pure white aura. He should probably fear it, but he was drawn to it—to her. He suddenly wanted nothing more than to take all her pleasure inside his body and convert it into magic.

  Yes, this mortal female would give him great power. Tonight. “And where are you going?” Sayer called as Bran left him standing at the balustrade.

  “Outside. To have a closer look at my evening meal.”

  “And you think this place is a den of inequity? Wait till you get beyond the doors and into their world.”

  “I assure you, I would never allow a mortal to be the death of me.”

  The Master stepped silently into the shadowed alcove. In one fluid movement his knees were bent, palms pressed together in a mockery of a prayer, black cloak concealing any identifying features. Like a huge black crow, he sat perched on the stone balustrade, hidden in shadows, watching the humans and immortals gyrating against one another, committing every cardinal sin. Normally the vision was arousing, but it wasn’t the sinning mortals and wayward immortals that turned him on tonight. It was the motley gathering of shape-shifters.

  From the darkness, he watched them struggling with their inner demons. His gaze skipped to each one of them, studying them: the raven, the Shadow Wraith, Selkie, Griffin, and the morose phoenix. Everyone was there, even the gargoyle, hidden well out of anyone’s sight. But he was there nonetheless. And the Fallen Angel. He inhaled deeply. Ah, yes, Suriel was there, too.

  Out of all of them there was one who screamed for the Master’s attention. Closing his eyes, he used his other senses to find his new apprentice. Behind closed lids, the image flared to life.

  Yes, that’s what he wanted. That beautiful Dark Soul he lusted for. The Dark Soul who hadn’t a clue what possibilities lurked inside him. The Master would show him what blackness was there, bubbling just below the surface.

  All that hate. All that pain. The rage. Oh, yes, the Dark Soul was going to be beautiful once he was turned. And it would not take much. The seed was already there, taking root—growing, until the day he, the Master, the Soul Stealer, could come and pluck it, control it.

  The aroma of his new apprentice was intoxicating: a mixture of helplessness, fury, and perhaps a hint of desperation. Inhaling deeply, the Master felt a deep stirring. It was an exhilarating elixir, much more potent than alcohol or sex. An aphrodisiac made for the devil. And it was sweating off the immortal’s body in rivulets.

  So much pain. So beautiful in his emotional prison, waiting until the day the lock was sprung open, freeing him. The hatred he would unleash against his kind—against the world—would be utterly breathtaking.

  He had waited so long to hold such power, to unleash it to do his bidding. But soon the Master would have what he needed to destroy both worlds: Annwyn and the mortal realm.

  He was aroused just thinking about the mayhem and pain they would cause. Every master needed an apprentice, and this one was utterly perfect. Together they would have immense power, and the rituals . . . the black magick rituals would be even more exciting when he had someone to share them with.

  “Hi there.”

  He closed his eyes, inhaling the scent of aroused female,
which made his cock throb behind his leather pants. “Hello.” Jumping down from his perch, he reached for the woman, wrapping his hand around her slim waist.

  “Love the jacket,” she said, rubbing her hands along his chest, then down the pocket of his trench coat. “What’s this?” she asked in a coy, sexy voice. She pulled the silver satin cord from his pocket, her eyes rising slowly. From beneath her long eyelashes, he saw her pupils dilate with excitement.

  “What’s your name?” he asked as he cupped her breast in his palm.

  “Trinity,” she answered in a husky breath that immediately had him leaking from the tip of his cock. He hid his smile as he pulled her to him, fitting her lithe body against his. “How appropriate,” he murmured into her ear. “I happen to be looking for a divine threesome.” The Sacred Trine. That was what he was searching for. And he would find it, all three women, right here in Velvet Haven. Perhaps this woman could lead him to them.

  Trinity giggled and wrapped her leg around his calf as she shoved her breast farther into his hand. “Mmm,” she moaned, “sounds like my kind of time.”

  He smiled, trailing the back of his hand down her cheek, angling her head so he could watch the bounding pulse of her carotid. Stupid human. She had no idea what he meant.

  “Did you bring a friend?” she asked, rubbing up against him.

  His gaze flickered to his apprentice. “Not tonight.”

  “Oh.” She pouted, then brightened. “I have some friends.”

  “Have you?” He circled her nipple, which was protruding through her thin top. “I’m searching for a particular threesome.”

  She looked up at him, batting her lashes. “A Trinity?”

  Indeed he was, but not this kind of Trinity. No, the one he wanted was much more important. One he couldn’t allow to slip into the wrong hands.

  “What I’m looking for,” he whispered as he flicked his tongue along her neck, “are three women. A healer, an Oracle, and a Nephillim.” She pulled back, her eyes glazed. “Have you ever heard of such women? Do they come here?”

  She shook her head. Her eyes were as vacant as her thoughts, consumed with the need for sex. She might be a regular at Velvet Haven, but she was not connected in the way he needed. Unfortunate for her. He might have kept her alive if she had more than her pussy to offer.

  As he swept the club with his gaze, he searched once more through the crowd. He needed that Trine. And he needed it soon if he was going to find the key that unlocked the flame and the amulet.

  Dangling the silver rope between them, she licked her lips. “Ready to play?”

  Mentally he undressed her, imagining his markings imprinted on her body. She was going to be exceedingly amusing.

  This one would be different, he would make certain of that. After he fucked her, branded her—terrorized her—he would make her into a billboard that no one would fail to understand. Not Suriel, and not Cailleach. Both worlds would suffer his wrath for what they’d done to him. Both would know that they were now his enemy. No one was safe from him and his wrath.

  “What’s your name, sugar?” she asked as she raked her nails down the heavy shaft of his cock. He smiled as he bound the rope around her wrists. Her breath rushed out. Apprehension and sexual need perfumed the air, arousing him to the point where he could have come just by thinking of what he was going to do to her.

  He smiled. “Just call me Aaron.”

  CHAPTER FOUR

  The gargoyle, with its bulging eyes and grotesque mouth, leered down from the eaves, making a mockery of the neon welcome sign that flashed below it. The creature was the most hideous thing Mairi had ever seen, yet somehow it managed to seem right at home, carved into the gray stone portcullis of the mansion’s elaborate Gothic entrance.

  On the other side of the gargoyle was the carving of an angel, its wings spread wide, its head bent in prayer. The whole angel-and-demon thing was totally appropriate, given the mansion’s history and the mystery surrounding the couple who had lived there for an unnaturally long time.

  The house, it was said, had been built by an eccentric Scots-man, Daegan MacDonald, for his wife, whom he had adored. The mansion had seen many lavish parties over the decades since its construction in the 1870s. There was something dark and otherworldly about the architecture and the stained-glass windows that were covered with Druid mythological symbols Mairi had seen in one of the manuscripts she collected.

  There was no denying that Velvet Haven, as the mansion was now called, held some magical, enthralling quality that sucked you in and held you captive. It lured, even though the feeling of danger was persuasive, seducing even as it frightened. The distant roll of thunder rumbling across the heavens only added to the menacing atmosphere.

  Glancing once more at the statue, Mairi shivered despite the warm spring air, which was growing heavier with the threat of rain. She could have sworn that the eyes of the statue were tracking her as she shifted in line, trying to get beneath the blossomed canopy of an apple tree before the rain came.

  The very idea of a stone statue capable of watching her was completely irrational, not to mention stupid.

  Something strange was happening to her. She wasn’t her logical self. Fatigue. It was exhaustion, that’s all. Swinging back and forth from the night shift to the day shift, not to mention sleepless nights worrying about Rowan’s health. And the dreams, she thought darkly. The dreams kept her up all night.

  Well, at least her wrist had stopped bothering her. She’d gone home and taken an antihistamine and lo and behold it had worked. It must have been an allergic reaction to contact with Lauren, maybe from the thorn-apple.

  As another tremor snaked down her spine, she looked up once more into the taunting face of the gargoyle, unable to deny that despite her rationalizing pep talk, she was still spooked. The past twenty- four hours had been nothing but weirdness. And nothing was stranger than the dream she’d had that afternoon after visiting Rowan.

  She’d fallen right to sleep after taking a Benadryl. Immediately she’d been visited by the man of her dreams. As usual, he had pleasured her, made her cry out in ecstasy. But the dream had taken on a different tone than the ones before it. After her orgasm, a darkness had swept over her. Images of blood and the sting of betrayal assailed her until Mairi had forced herself awake, terror filling her as her sweat-drenched T-shirt clung to her breasts, the nipples still hard from her dream.

  She was still kind of freaked out, and it didn’t help her current state of mind to know that she was standing on the sidewalk in the city’s notorious downtown east side. No one but drug addicts and vagrants came to this part of town. No one except the hundreds of eager people around her who were lining up, trying to get inside the old Gothic mansion.

  “This is going to be so cool,” Rowan squealed beside her. “I can’t believe we’re actually going to get in.”

  “How did you manage to score VIP tickets to the hottest club in town, anyway?” she asked, watching a big black bird land on the shoulder of the gargoyle statue. The thing was huge. But then, if the east side was his home, there was lots of garbage to dine on.

  She watched its head cock to the left, its sharp, predator eyes honing in on something. Was it just her, or was the bird scanning the crowd as if it were looking for a midnight snack?

  “I told you, my Tarot Guy brought a friend along with him this morning. He gave them to me.”

  The flap of the raven’s wings drew Mairi’s attention away from Rowan. She watched the bird lift from the statue’s shoulder and fly to a branch of the apple tree above her. The branch wavered as the bird landed, and the sweet scent of apple blossoms wafted over her.

  She was never one for bird watching, but this one had a strange silver streak on its back that captured her attention. It was extremely focused, astute, as it watched the crowd. Its head would cock sharply to the left and then to the right, as if it were listening. But always its sharp eyes came back to—her—if she allowed herself to admit it. But she couldn’
t.

  The bird is not watching me, she muttered over and over, but still, she felt that rapacious gaze on her, even when she kept her eyes firmly lowered.

  “Are you sure you should be accepting tickets from a guy you don’t even know?” Mairi asked.

  “I swear,” Rowan gushed, “he was totally normal.”

  “Yeah, well, we thought Aaron was, too. Till he turned into a stalker and we had to hide you for weeks.”

  “That was months ago, and he’s in jail, remember? Besides, you know I’ve always wanted to get inside this place. How could I turn down free tickets?”

  Was Aaron still in jail? Mairi wasn’t so sure. Not after what Lauren had told her. “So, tell me about this man,” Mairi said as she watched a pair of guys with Mohawks and silver chains dangling from their nostrils to their lips saunter past them.

  “His name is Sayer,” Rowan answered, watching the guys go by, “and, my God, is he hot. He came into Enchantment this morning with the Tarot Guy. Who, by the way, is überhot, too. He simmers with mystery and totally oozes sex. I bet he’s wild in the sack, once he lets go of his reserve.”

  “I know. You talk about him every week.”

  “Do I?” Rowan sighed. “He doesn’t notice me. At least not that way.”

  “So a guy you’ve never met comes into your store and offers you tickets to Velvet Haven, and you accept them—and don’t feel a bit worried about that, especially after what I showed you happened in the city last night?”

  Rowan paused. “Did it happen here?”

  Mairi glanced at the bird, then at the facade of the club. “No.”

  “Then what’s to worry about?”

  “I don’t know.” And truly, she didn’t. But she felt like they should worry. This wasn’t their usual scene. And her dreams . . . they were dark and disturbing and somehow in her mind she had linked them with this place. Even though she’d never been inside the club.