A Door to Midnight

by Renee George

  “Nothing, love,” her mother had said. “Being here with you, Em. Now. It makes me happy. That’s all.”

  Emily briefly closed her eyes as the recollection of her mother’s touch faded. She couldn’t stop the sadness from ruining even the good memories.

  “Come,” Ky said. “Your room is at the top of the stairs.”

  Emily pulled her shoulders back. She was here for a reason. A purpose beyond herself. She would face it with courage. It was the only thing she had left. The polished wood of the banister felt like brushed silk against her fingertips as they ascended the left staircase. The eerie quiet as they walked up, Ky carrying her luggage while Zan led the way, made Emily’s uneasiness grow.

  Again she had to ask herself: What kind of man bargains to keep a girl as a slave?

  Zan laughed. “A lonely man, of course.”

  Alarmed, Emily missed the next step and crashed down to her knee. The pain of the jolt made her cry out. Had she asked that question out loud?

  Ky put the suitcases down and knelt beside her. He reached out as if to help her, but when she flinched, he withdrew his hand. “Are you okay?”

  “She’s fine,” Zan said.

  “I’m fine,” Emily repeated. She rubbed her knee vigorously, and the pain turned to a dull ache. She stood up, ignoring Zan, and turned to Ky. She forced her expression to remain neutral and willed herself not to stare at the hideous scar on the right side of his face. “Really. I’m okay.”

  Soon, they stood outside a locked wooden door. Zan used a large skeleton key to open the room and ushered her inside. His seductive smile tapped into something primal in Emily. His eyes promised dark and terrible things, desires she both feared and longed for. He gripped the key tightly in his fist, demonstrating his complete control over how and when he could enter her room. The low chuckle that rumbled from his lips tightened parts low in her body, and she stifled a groan.

  Ky put her bags next to an emperor-sized bed. Obviously exasperated, he held out his hand to Zan. His brother slapped the key into his palm.

  “Spoil sport.”

  “Narcissist.” Ky turned and smiled. “Emily, I hope you’ll be comfortable here.” He handed her the key. “The door can be locked on either side.” He must have seen her surprise because he added, “In this room, you will be allowed complete privacy. The key ensures no one is permitted in without your say-so.”

  Zan raised his brow. “Which means, if you want to play out those hidden fantasies of yours, you’ll have to invite me in.”

  Zan scared her, but she couldn’t deny his bad-boy charms. “I…I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Emily said. The wet heat between her thighs said she was a liar, liar, pants on fire.

  The brothers left, and she locked the door, heaving a sigh of relief. She crawled onto the massive bed and curled against the pillows.

  How would she survive the next three months?

  Chapter 2

  Emily’s sleep had been fraught with unpleasant nightmares of crying demons and cruel beasts throwing cannon balls at her with their mouths. The day had been worse. No one had come for her, and her stress levels were off the charts. She hadn’t left the safety of her bedchambers to do more than peek outside to the corridor. For such a large house, it was very quiet. Too quiet.

  A sharp rap sounded on the door, and Emily jumped. Jeez. Calm down. Inhaling a steadying breath, she crossed the room and unlocked it. Ky and Zan stood in the doorway. Once again she was struck by their similarities and their differences. Zan caught her gaze and winked.

  Bastard.

  Ky cleared his throat, cutting the tension between them. “Dinner is in an hour.”

  At lunchtime, a meal of fresh yeasty bread, smoked meats and cheeses, along with a large bunch of black grapes had been set outside her door.

  “I’m still full from lunch.” She snacked when she was nervous, and she spent the entire afternoon working her way through the massive tray of food.

  “Your presence is required.”

  So, now her servitude would begin in earnest. She had a bad feeling in the pit of her stomach and she couldn’t shake the deep sense of foreboding.

  Zan narrowed his gaze. “Change into something more dinner appropriate.”

  Emily blushed. She’d put on yoga pants and a loose yoga top after she’d showered. She’d pulled back her hair into a messy bun and hadn’t applied a stitch of make-up. Basically, this was her normal everyday look. “I don’t believe Mr. Tsavaras put any clause in my contract stipulating that I had to dress a certain way to eat a meal.”

  “Ah. But dearest Emily, don’t you want to look your best when meeting your employer?”

  It galled her that Zan’s chastisement had merit. All the same, her lower lip trembled, and she clenched her fists as she fought back angry tears.

  Ky nodded to Zan, who shrugged at the dismissal. He gave her one last wicked grin before he departed.

  “Mr. Tsavaras is looking forward to meeting you.”

  Emily reached out and touched Ky’s arm. The muscle beneath the loose shift bunched beneath her fingertips. The well-developed bicep surprised her. She’d assumed since Zan wore tight clothes to show off his body that Ky wore baggy clothes to hide his.

  He straightened his shoulders at her touch, and she could see he was as tall as Zan. “Did you need something before I leave you?”

  “Will it be only Mr. Tsavaras and I for dinner?”

  “Yes. Don’t worry. Someone will come for you.” He glanced at her hand still on his arm. He put his hand on hers. His touch electrified her. Emily snatched back her fingers as if she’d been burned. The look on Ky’s face, the sadness and disappointment, made her heart ache. “I didn’t mean to—”

  “It’s all right.” He refused to meet her eyes. Instead, he turned and left the room.

  Emily went to the closed door and quickly locked it. She clutched the key to her heart and allowed the first tears to fall.

  “Oh God,” she whispered. It was only day two of a ninety-day contract. She hadn’t realized how long three months would actually be until now. She had barely handled one night in the hellish mansion.

  She walked to the enormous bed and sat on the edge. “One minute at a time,” she told herself.

  * * * *

  Marcus Tsavaras felt a mixture of anger and joy, apathy and empathy, lust and love, and possessiveness and protectiveness. As he always did. The duality of his nature when taking human form caused his conflicting emotions. In the human and the other worlders world, he was a powerful man. He owned many businesses, not just riverboat casinos. He was connected to organized crime in the human world, which made him a valuable asset to Myron Gray and his shadow warriors, and his ability to create portals through space and time made him very important to the rulers of Caledon, the other worlders’ royal family. The newest queen, Benoica Dilian had taken two shape-shifting men as her husbands to create her Triune. An unusual choice for a woman born into what most people would consider faery royalty.

  Not everyone in his world was happy about the Truine. Marcus had been contacted recently by a determined group who called themselves the Children of Caledon—loyal followers of the previous king. An unimaginative name for an unimaginative group of other worlders who feared Benoica Dilian. They’d wanted Marcus to open the door to Caledon. He had refused to do so, of course, and informed the queen, but he doubted this group could cause any real problems for he royals. Especially with Gray and his shadow warriors keeping watch.

  Marcus held out his hands, clasping both sides of himself and merged his two halves into his true form: a single body with two heads. He could feel the way Emily had been drawn to his darker half, the side of him that acted on pure selfish instinct and would satisfy its every desire without thought to consequence. She’d shied from his gentler side, judging him on appearance alone, immediately deeming him a monster. He was unsure about his decision to take Emily into service in exchange for her father’s debt.

  Af
ter she’d first tried to contact him, he’d researched the mahogany-haired beauty. Her social media contained one photo of her with a half-dozen other college students. She’d stood out to him, not because of her beauty, though she was definitely the kind of woman who appealed to him with her curvy hips, full-figured body, sun-kissed skin, dewy lips, and large blue eyes, so clear and bright they rivaled sapphires. However, the main reason he’d agreed to talk to Emily was because her eyes held a soul-deep melancholy he recognized. The dichotomy of this woman, with her bright smile and sad gaze, had called to his own dual nature.

  Now that he’d met her, he knew he was both right and wrong in choosing Emily Henley. She would prove a most interesting diversion for a while. She had her own darkness, and he would relish the exploration. But he’d met many women like her over his long life, and her reaction to Ky had been enough to tell him she wouldn’t be the one.

  “She wants me,” his cruel side said.

  “Only because she doesn’t know me,” he gentler side reminded. “Tonight will be a real test of her commitment to the contract,” he said.

  “Yes, but I could feel her resolve when she agreed.”

  “She’ll run.”

  “She won’t.”

  “I guess dinner will tell the tale.”

  “Agreed.”

  Emily believed that she’d made a deal with the devil. She didn’t know how close to the truth her statement had been, but tonight she would find out.

  Chapter 3

  A chime rang in the mansion, signaling dinner. Another knock on the door had Emily scrambling from her chair. Would it be Zan or Ky who came for her, or would both escort her? She didn’t know what she wished for the most. Zan appealed to her baser self, but he was dangerous. Ky made her feel safe, but he also scared her.

  The knock sounded again.

  Emily had grudgingly changed into a black skirt and a dark blue blouse that made her light blue eyes—the only interesting thing about her—flare to life. She’d never been the kind of girl that boys flocked around. Not that it mattered. She’d never had time for boys. She’d been too busy raising her own father. Still, the last thing she wanted to do was make a bad impression on Mr. Tsavaras. Though if she had to rely on her ability to flirt to impress him, she was already in trouble.

  When she opened the door, no one was there. She peeked around the corner and looked both ways. Not only was there no one around, but the stairway was also gone. She stepped back into the bedroom, heart pounding as she wrestled with her disbelief. Her overtaxed mind was playing tricks on her. Emily stuck her head out again.

  Nope.

  The stairway was definitely gone. She could go straight, or she could go right. She decided to go right because she saw a door at the end, not more than forty feet away. By the time Emily reached it, she’d felt as if she’d been walking for minutes, not seconds. She paused outside the carved door, ornate as any she’d seen with swirls and geometrics carved and sanded smooth, and let her fingers hover over the handle. Her hand shook. She clenched it, trying to still its tremor, and when that failed, she put it to her side and reached with the steadier left.

  She pushed down the handle and the door swung open with a barely audible whoosh, and she inhaled the fragrant scent of roasted meat and vegetables. The room was dark, lit only with candles across a large rectangular table. Eight high-back chairs lined either side of the table.

  At the end closest to the door, there was a single chair and an empty plate surrounded by an assortment of nuts, fresh sliced peaches, pears, red cherries, clusters of grapes, and a honeycomb dripping with sticky golden-amber goodness. Beyond that was a roasted rack of lamb, roasted potatoes, minted peas, and glazed carrots. At the other end of the table, a man sat cloaked in a shroud of darkness that only allowed her to catch glimpses of his suit jacket but nothing else.

  “Please sit,” he said, his tone pleasant with invitation, as though she was his guest. She knew her role was that of a companion, but she was a companion by bargain, not because they were friends.

  Wordlessly, she took her seat.

  “Does the food meet with your satisfaction, Ms. Henley?”

  His voice played along her skin like the dance of a flute. She shivered. “Does it really matter, Mr. Tsavaras?”

  He laughed softly, but the sound lacked humor. “No, I suppose it doesn’t.”

  She leaned a little to one side, shaking off the sensuality of his voice and hoping for a closer look at her mysterious boss. “What do you expect from me?”

  “Just what our terms implied.”

  She’d had it all in writing, but she needed to hear the confirmation from Marcus Tsavaras’s lips. “I am to merely keep you company for three months.”

  “Yes.”

  “I can see my father once a month for one day.”

  “On the full moon,” agreed her new employer. “You must return before sunrise or forfeit the contract. At the end of the ninety days, so long as every term in the contract has been honored, you will be released and your father’s debts will be cleared.”

  “No strings attached.”

  “None, Ms. Henley.” He leaned back, obscuring himself even more.

  “Okay.” She picked up a hazelnut, dabbed it to the honeycomb and popped it in her mouth. The honey nectar burst with rich sweetness, with hints of honeysuckle, oranges, and clover. She’d never tasted a better honey in her life. She hummed her pleasure.

  “I’m glad you approve,” Tsavaras said. “It’s a blend I cultivate from my own beehives.”

  Emily’s face warmed. Her mouth watered for another bite, but she kept her hands firmly on her lap. “The bees did a good job.” Ugh. Could she sound any less intelligent? “I mean, they, well, I guess you, managed to make a delicious honey.”

  “You were right the first time. They do all the work.” She could hear the smile in his voice. “I just coax them in the right direction.”

  Emily stared at the honeycomb. In a moment of pure honesty, she said, “I am trying very hard not to pick up the whole damn thing and just shove it in my mouth, wax and all.”

  Tsavaras laughed, and this time it contained genuine joy. She could feel it in the zipping tingle down her belly. Surprisingly, his laughter made her happy.

  “You have a beautiful smile,” he said.

  More heat warmed her cheeks. She shook her head. “My teeth are a little crooked on the bottom.”

  “The imperfection is charming.”

  She’d always been bad with compliments. “If you say so.”

  “I do.”

  She realized a bevy of candles kept her side of the table well lit so he could see her. Yet, he remained in the shadows. She wanted to see the man who had made her smile despite her fear. She craned forward. “Why are you hiding?”

  “I wanted you to get comfortable before I reveal myself.”

  She thought about Ky and the scar running down the right side of his face. In hindsight, it hadn’t been so much hideous, as it had been startling, and she’d reacted badly. Had he told Tsavaras? Was the powerful recluse worried she’d react similarly to his own flaws? Was he really so awful to view?

  “You’re making me nervous,” she said.

  “Not yet, Emily.”

  There was nothing sinister in his tone, but she braced herself, believing she was prepared for whatever he might show her, but when he finally leaned into the light, Emily pushed back her chair and staggered to her feet. Emily choked on her own spit. She coughed, almost gagging, as tightness squeezed her throat.

  Marcus Tsavaras wasn’t a man. He couldn’t be. She’d heard of Siamese twins, but she’d never seen anything like what sat across from her. Two heads, not human, though the eyes and the grim lines of their wide, full lips, showed human emotion. He leaned back into the darkness. She wondered if Tsavaras had put a hallucinogen in the honey. She didn’t feel drugged, but how could a thing such as Marcus Tsavaras exist?

  Emily was ashamed at the relief she felt when his visa
ge was hidden from her again. Okay. He had two heads. She’d dated worse. She took her seat, determined to be a better companion for him. He deserved that much.

  Emily leaned forward. “What are you?”

  “I have been known by many names, Emily.” He stood up, and the sheer size of him made her knees wobbly. He stood at least seven and a half feet tall, but the breadth of his shoulders, packed with muscle to hold up two very large heads, made her feel dwarfed in his presence.

  Tsavaras moved until he was only a few feet from her, his form in the full light was awe-inspiring. The fine hair on his face, dark gold in color, almost shimmered in the flickering light. Emily stared at his two faces, the right side had a lighter patch of fur on one side, both had large, sharp teeth, a slightly protruding nose and mouth, deep-set eyes the color of gold, and thick, dark brown curls that hung loosely from both heads and rested on his shoulders.

  He was part man and part animal though she couldn’t discern what kind of beast. Lion? Wolf? Hound? He seemed straight out of the pages of the Isle of Dr. Moreau by H.G. Wells, one of her mother’s favorite books. Pity replaced some of Emily’s fear. Had he been an experiment?

  “No, Emily,” Tsavaras said. “No one did this to me.”

  “Can you read my mind?”

  “Nothing like that.” Both heads smiled, baring long sharp canines in the process. Emily flinched and the smiles vanished. “I have lived many lifetimes, and I’ve learned to read people.”

  “Oh.” She looked at him, openly curious now. She knew her Greek mythology. “Are you saying you are Cerberus?”

  “No. He’s my uncle. I am most commonly known as Chimera, the son of Othrus. I was also once known as Janus, the two-headed god, keeper of doorways. However, I haven’t been worshiped in years.”

  She forced herself to keep her gaze on his faces, both mouths moved and he spoke simultaneously from both heads. “You’re saying you’re actually an ancient…um, person who’s been mythologized?”

  Marcus Tsavaras leaned in close, and she could smell his breath, a pleasant scent of honey and fresh cut grass. “Do I look like someone who makes up stories?”