by S. J. Harper
Chapter Six
I survey the pile of shopping bags that adorn the king-sized bed in the guest room Maitlan has assigned to me. There’s an adjoining bathroom that links to a second guest room on the other side. The one assigned to Zack.
“Looks like quite a haul.”
I turn at the sound of Zack’s voice.
He’s leaning against the doorjamb. His pose appears casual, relaxed. But I’ve worked with him long enough to know there’s something about the mission that’s bothering him. I scoop up the bag of make-up and a flat-iron.
“I need to begin the transformation. It may take a while.”
He steps back into the bathroom so that I can enter. But he doesn’t leave. Instead he perches on the end of the large marble tub. “I’ve been thinking about something Torres said.”
I plug in the flat iron. My hair is naturally thick and wavy. Tonight it will be straight, worn in a ponytail high on my head. I need my overall look to be striking, severe. I dump out the bag of make-up. Pick up a tube of lipstick, Moulin Rouge. It’s a vibrant red. “What’s that?”
“About you being the buttoned up, librarian type.”
Of course Zack has seen another side of me. Our eyes connect in the mirror.
He clears his throat. “I have an observation. And a question.”
I pick up the flat iron and begin the process of straightening my hair. “Fire away.”
He scratches the back of his head. “I don’t know much about your kind.” There’s an uncharacteristic hesitation. “But I’d like to think I’ve grown to know a bit about you. Torres is right, in a way. You go to great lengths day to day to…” There’s a longer pause this time. Finally he finds the word he’s searching for. “Hide.”
I say nothing. He’s yet to ask the question. I wait and continue working on my waves, straightening the long cascade of locks into a smooth, shiny dark sheet.
“You’re so reserved most of the time. But I’ve seen you let go and when that happens…” Color rises to his cheeks. He stands, comes to lean against the vanity. “You’re going to be heading into a sexually charged situation. You’re going to be alone. I need to know if this is going to be a problem for you.”
I finish with the last bit of hair, quickly pulling it into a topknot, letting the length spill down my back before facing him. “I’ve been playing this game for a very long time. I know the dangers of letting go. That’s why I so rarely let it happen. This performance is all about control. I can handle it. In fact, you might say I’m uniquely qualified for it.”
He nods, seemingly satisfied. Yet he still doesn’t leave.
I start in on the make-up. Concealer for under the eyes, base, powder to set it. There’s blush, three different eye shadows of varying shades of gray, along with liquid eyeliner and mascara. Zack watches quietly as I use a variety of sponges and brushes to create a flawless canvas before beginning to paint. It feels intimate, and his presence is strangely comforting. Maybe it’s the fact that the tension between us has defused. That with Robby’s life at stake and a job to focus on we’re back on even keel. Maybe it’s the fact that the conversation is an honest one and that since the moment I bespelled him, took away his memories of our affair, there hasn’t really been a true and real conversation between us.
I blot my lipstick and then add a touch of gloss. “Now for wardrobe.”
I walk back into the bedroom, flip the cover off a large shoebox containing an impressive pair of leather boots. There’s a second box. I strip away the tissue paper to reveal a cat suit of exceptional quality. The collar is high. The racerback cut is sure to reveal my wings, or should I say the markings where my wings used to be. That’s something I hadn’t counted on. I slide the catch down on the zipper. It runs from collar to crotch.
I step out of my shoes. Begin to unbutton my blouse.
“I’m still here you know.”
My back is to him. The sound comes from the direction of the bathroom. This time it’s me who shrugs. “I know,” I say, removing my shirt. Unfastening the catch on my trousers. We’ve spent hours exploring one another’s bodies. It’s seems silly to act the modest coquette now. “Question is why?”
I’m down to my bra and panties.
When he replies I can tell that he hasn’t moved. He’s keeping a measure of distance between us. “Thought you might need help with the getup. That zipper’s going to be a bitch.”
I look over my shoulder. He holds up both hands. “Strictly professional.”
I don’t invite him in.
The bra and panties fall to the floor, then I turn around and sit on the edge of the bed, in all my naked glory. I don’t look up.
“I could ask one of the other guys,” he says, his voice quiet.
I shake my head. Feel my hair bob back and forth as it brushes against the skin of my back. I step into the legs, then stand, pulling the suit up, over my torso and pushing my hands through the armholes.
“Don’t bother. You’ll do,” I tell him, turning back around and sweeping my hair over one shoulder so it doesn’t catch in the zip. “You may enter, dog.”
It takes him only a few quick strides to reach me, to have my hair in his fist. His eyes, flashing blue, connect with mine. “Being submissive isn’t something I play at. I don’t need a mommy to spank me. You want someone to practice on before you go inside? Practice on Roger.” With that he reaches around behind me, slides his hand down between my legs to grab hold of the zipper. His thumb brushes across my clit, and an involuntary hiss escapes my lips. I remember a time that, thanks to Liz’s spell, Zack never will. A time when I’d wanted him, needed him, so much I’d practically begged. His eyes hold mine steadily as the fabric comes together over my ass, my back, my neck.
I pick up a boot. “Do you suppose I could get Roger to lick these?”
He swipes it from my hand, then plants his other in the middle of my chest and gives me a little push so that I fall back onto the bed. “I suppose you could get any man to do anything,” he replies, plucking the boot’s stuffing out and dropping it onto the floor.
“Even you?” I ask. Holding out one foot, inviting him to slip it on.
He obliges with a sad smile. “I’m pissed at you. Remember?”
My second foot pops out, ready to be sheathed. “What I remember, is you agreeing to put that aside for now.” I reach back on the bed, my fingers curl around the piece that completes the outfit, a Hermes riding crop. Nothing but the best for Maitlan’s Domina. A flick of my wrist and it snaps against my leather clad leg. “Are we all set with the equipment?”
Zack nods. “The bag’s ready. A few select items no Domina would leave home without inside the main compartment. Surveillance equipment stowed away underneath the false bottom. And, I called in an unofficial favor. Thermal imaging reveals no children in the building. Maitlan was right. If Eve does have Robby, she’s not holding him at Elysium. Jennifer’s ready to make the call.”
“Looks like I’m off,” I say, heading for the door.
Just as I open it he surprises me with, “I’m going with you.”
I stop dead in my tracks. “I’ve got this, Zack. Besides, there’s no way they would let you in. You heard Roger—”
“Not me, my wolf. We have a body count. You’re going in completely unarmed.” He waves in my direction. “You can’t even wear any protective gear. I can shift and recover from a bullet. You can’t. Think of me as a prop.”
“A prop.”
He smiles a bit sheepishly. “You know, you’re so bad you’ve tamed a big bad wolf.”
My hands move to my hips. “You’re confusing as hell, you know that?”
“I prefer to think of myself as complicated.”
“You’re telling me you can shift at will?” It’s a rare skill, and one Zack’s never mentioned. It’s something only the strongest Were’s can do.
“Handy, right?” he replies.
“You can control the beast?”
“One hundred percen
t, with the exception of that pesky leg humping problem.”
I roll my eyes. “Let’s go.” I turn to leave. Once again, he stops me.
“Emma!”
“What?”
“One more thing. I’d prefer it if you didn’t watch me change.”
I approach him. “You’ve watched me change.”
“True. But this is different. It’s painful and grisly. Once you see it, you’ll never be able to forget there’s a monster inside of the man.”
Suddenly he looks vulnerable.
My hand reaches up to cup the side of his face. He doesn’t pull away. “There’s a monster inside of all of us. You have the privilege of being better acquainted with yours than most.”
He takes my hand. Lowers it. “Say you understand. That you won’t fight me on this.”
“I understand,” I assure him. “I won’t fight you on this.”
There’s a knock on the door. I turn to find Maitlan. He’s giving me the once-over. His eyes hold more than curiosity. Before he says anything, Zack steps forward. “Were you able to get any sleep?”
Maitlan shakes his head. “Tried for the past hour. Not a wink. Where are we?”
“I have the results of the thermal scan. You’re right. Robby is not being held in the club. We got the warrant. The plan is the same, Emma will offer to take over Jennifer’s clients for the night. Torres will come in to distract Eve. Emma will then use the opportunity to get into Eve’s office and apartment and place the bugs. We’re ready to go.”
“We?” asks Maitlan.
Zack pulls a set of keys from his jacket. “I’m going to drive her.”
* * * *
Maitlan’s directions put the club in the middle of Manhattan. Even with traffic, it’s a simple commute. In twenty minutes we’re pulling past the address and driving into a nearby alley between two closed businesses. Although the sign above our parking spot threatens to tow away any car, with the exception of those belonging to patrons, there’s little risk of that with government plates.
He shuts off the ignition. “My costume’s in the glove compartment.”
I pop it open; pull out a studded collar and leather leash.
“Once we’re inside, take me off leash. That way I’ll be able to maneuver more easily should something go awry.” He flips off the interior lights before opening the driver’s door.
“Nothing’s going to go awry,” I assure him.
We’re enveloped in darkness. I can barely see the outline of his body. A pair of shoes gets tossed into the front seat. Trousers follow, then the remainder of his clothing. Finally, he tosses me the keys. “The alley up ahead that runs perpendicular butts up against the back of Elysium. I say we take it instead of the main street, it will allow us easy access to the side entrance Jennifer told us about.”
“Agreed,” I slip the keys inside my bag, step out of the SUV. My eyes are adjusting somewhat. I can see that Zack’s no longer alongside the car.
It rained a short while ago. The streets are wet. Manhattan is abuzz. I look back to see cars whizzing by in front of the alley. But above the din of the city, I hear the cracking of bone. My stomach churns. I step closer to the sound. Hear the tearing of sinew. There’s a faint outline of a dumpster up ahead. I know what’s happening behind it—a human skeleton is being mangled. Ripped apart. Joints severed and reshaped. Muscle shredded, then knit back together. Until, finally in an explosion of blood and gore—the wolf emerges. The monster inside the man. I turn back around, try to block out the sounds of what I know must be a torturous transformation, focus on the traffic whizzing by. Then, quite suddenly, I feel something wet against the back of my hand. Hear a gentle whimper. The headlights of a car in the alley across the street shine on us. Bright light reflects off white fur. Zack’s wolf is beautiful, its head reaches almost to my waist. Reflexively I reach down and run my hand over its coat, which is full and thick, the edges of its ears are darker, as is a patch between his eyes, a section around his haunches. Those areas appear more of a light grey. But it’s the eyes that catch my true attention and hold it. They’re eyes I’ve seen before, as blue as an arctic sky.
The car pulls out into traffic. Once again we’re shrouded in darkness. I fasten the collar around his neck, don’t bother with the leash. It’s dropped into my bag. “We didn’t discuss what I should call you,” I say softly, lifting its head. “How about Cerberus?”
The wolf tilts its head as if considering the matter. I start walking. Cerberus remains by my side, vigilant, alert. “Because your loyalty rivals the Hellhounds’ that guard Hades gates. Let’s go, partner, this is going to be one entrance Eve Devlin will never forget.”
Chapter Seven
With Cerberus by my side I ring the bell to the side entrance. It’s nondescript, no address, not even a light overhead or alongside. We have to wait only a few seconds before the door opens. The brightness that suddenly floods the streets makes me take a step back. I shield my eyes.
“I take it you’re the new Domina?” A man with the stature of a body-builder fills the door. He’s dressed in a perfectly tailored tuxedo. He’s obviously expecting me, but his eyes reflect surprise then trouble upon seeing the wolf. “We don’t allow dogs inside.”
Cerberus bares his teeth.
“He doesn’t come in, I don’t come in.” I glance down and in a clipped tone say, “Behave yourself.”
The wolf sits, lowers his head in deference to my command.
“We’re a team,” I add.
“Miss Eve isn’t going to like this,” he says with a frown, then steps back so we can enter.
I flash him a brazen smile. “She’s going to love what we can do for her clients.”
The man leads us down a dark hall, through a door, then up a short flight of stairs. At the top, he pauses before sweeping aside a thick, velvet curtain. On the other side is a reception area with a hostess stand and a coatroom. The floors are marbled, the walls wood paneled. To the left is a room with a long bar, reminiscent of one I used to frequent at the Waldorf back when I last worked in New York. That seems like a lifetime ago.
It was a lifetime ago.
The bar area is filled with leather sofas and chairs. Large oriental rugs warm the room. There are bookcases and racks containing newspapers, undoubtedly from around the world. There’s a bartender behind the bar. Two gentlemen occupy chairs, one smoking a pipe. Beyond that I glimpse a dining room, its tables covered with crisp white cloths, fine china, and delicate crystal.
“This way,” my guide says, leading me past the hostess.
The lithe blonde barely spares me a glance. Her attention is drawn instead to my wolf. She bends over burying her face in the top of his head, giving him a scratch behind his ears and a nice view of her ample breasts.
“Cerberus,” I say. “Come!”
He breaks away and follows at my heels. “Speaking of names, I didn’t get yours,” I say to the back of my escort.
“Nigel,” he replies.
“Seriously?” I ask him.
He pauses in front of a large double door. “You can call me Duke.” He raps twice, then turns the knob.
In the center of the office, a woman sits behind a Queen Anne desk made of mahogany, her face obscured by a fall of dark hair, paging through what looks like an old ledger. Is that the ledger Maitlan wanted Zack to steal? Perhaps. She doesn’t bother to look up when we enter. Which is fine by me. It gives me a chance to check out the room. The walls are a dark green. Tall windows, framed in taupe velvet, look out onto the street. Two chairs in matching upholstery are positioned in front of the desk.
“Take a seat,” she says absently, turning her attention toward a computer monitor. “Domina Sirena, is it?”
Finally I have her full attention.
“Cerberus, lay,” I say softly.
The wolf curls up at the base of my feet.
Eve rises. Hands on her desk, she leans over to take in the view. “Mistress Darkness said nothing about a dog.”<
br />
“Wolf,” I say. “I can assure you, he’s completely under my control. A model of obedience.”
The dark hair is sprinkled with gray. Her face round, cheeks full. The makeup is subtle. The clothing is classic, black slacks and turtleneck sweater. Eve Devlin isn’t a flamboyant madam, dripping sex. Nor is she a glamorous society woman. She’s all business. Her steel blue eyes fix upon me with the intensity of a laser. Her lips press into a frown.
“Is he really a full-blood wolf?”
I nod. “Arctic wolf.”
“You say he’s tame, yet you’ve named him after a Hellhound,” she says.
“I said he’s obedient, within my control. I wouldn’t call him tame.” I reach down, give Cerberus a scratch behind the ears. Her eyes follow my left hand. I reach into the top of one boot with my right and palm the bug.
Eve takes her seat once again. “So, you and Jennifer met where?”
“Sarah Lawrence,” I say, matter-of-factly. “We both majored in anthropology.”
Her face remains stoic. “Is that right?”
I cross my legs, lean back in my chair. “I went on and got my masters in archeology at UCLA. Just accepted a day job as a conservationist at the Natural History Museum.”
She leans forward in her chair. “And yet you’re here.”
“Living in the city is expensive and I have school loans to pay. Plus…” My eyes connect with hers. “I enjoy the work.”
She picks up a pen. “Your real name?”
“Patrice Carney,” I say.
It’s scribbled into the book.
“Address?”
I ramble off Jennifer’s.
The book closes with a snap.
“Are you a police officer?”
“Yes, I’m an FBI agent.” My tone is flat as I climb to my feet. I position one hand on her desk, use the opportunity to curl the fingers of the other underneath the top and place the bug. “Cerberus here is my partner. An ancestor of his was cursed. Now three nights a week he turns into a wolf. I’d show you our ID’s, but we didn’t count on needing them to get into your dungeon. Are we going to do this or not?”
