The Grimm Files Collection Boxed Set

by Selene Charles

  “What?” she snapped, sitting up straight. But I saw her glow radiate and knew that her siren’s charms had suddenly grown stronger. Was she curious too?

  I bit down on my back teeth, ready to confess it had simply been a badly worded icebreaker, but then I felt the smack of metal-spiked leather tassels across the backs of my thighs.

  The pain of fire soon gave way to waves of indescribable pleasure. Hissing, I arched my back, rising up on my knees, confounded by the emotions coursing through me—shock and… bloody hells, arousal? I shivered.

  “I did not tell you you could move, my pet,” she hissed, the words trembling with emotions that were very, very real.

  “Yes, my goddess,” I panted, straightening out as best I could. My body still tingled, and I was amazed by the new and strange sensory emotions ranging through me.

  She did not speak, and I did not move, half afraid she’d whip me again, half afraid she wouldn’t. My pulse raced like a rocket in my ears.

  “Will you behave, or should I punish you again?” She said it softly, voice a silken caress that I felt move across my nude back, pulsing against me like a demanding wave.

  I swallowed hard.

  “I vote for punish—he makes quite the pretty sight when you do.” Another voice, as cultured as mine, broke through our stolen moment.

  I frowned. Glancing up from my position wasn’t easy, but I made out the exquisite fabric of a gold-brocaded silk skirt and knew that if the person wasn’t royalty, they were at least someone very high up on the food chain.

  Elle whipped around, the tassels now gone, and I felt strangely empty. Exceedingly curious, that.

  “King Midas,” she whispered with a light, tremulous laugh, and then she was up. “You may now stand, my pet,” she said with all the concern of an evil stepmother toward her adopted Cinderella.

  I was slow to rise to my feet, head dizzy and swimming with the sudden rush of blood, legs tingling and arse still prickling with heat. A cock stand I’d not expected to have refused to go down even an inch. I doubted very much that it was quite what Bo meant when she’d told us to blend in. Then again, no one looking at us who did not already know us would ever mistake us for the law. There was that, at least.

  True to Elle’s word, the king looked like a very handsome she. Midas, as I’d only ever seen in papers, was an androgynous sort, able to seamlessly become whatever gender he desired.

  He was dressed like a buxom blond, but the affectation wasn’t grotesque or absurd. His painted face was flawlessly and skillfully done. He wore a gown of brilliant red that faded into gold toward the hemline. The gown itself was a thing of artistic genius, scandalously indecent in the back yet demure in the front. The whole of his back was on display, down to the very tip where arse met spine, giving a peekaboo glimpse but only a glimpse. The front of the gown slid all the way up to his neck but curved around a pair of breasts that could rival any female’s. It had to be an enchantment since I’d seen pictures of the king and he was tall, lanky, and normally flat of chest. The effect made him look like a succubus come straight from the mouth of Hel itself to tempt us all.

  Thick ropes of golden-blond hair were gathered up in an intricate crown of braids that was threaded through with priceless gems and pearls. He also wore gold satin evening gloves that slid up to his elbows, no doubt to keep anyone safe from accidentally grazing his lethal hands, which were gripping tight to an elaborate fan tipped in gold lace.

  Elle leaned in to hug the king warmly, and he returned the gesture in kind. There was an old friendship between the two—it was obvious.

  “La, my darling, it has been far too long. You know, I have never forgiven Triton for the shame he brought upon you. And to now be forced to mingle with the rabble—how do you bear it?” He sounded truly distressed. I might have laughed at his obvious theatrics except that he gazed at her with kindness in his golden eyes. He was genuinely worried for her.

  Elle dipped her lashes and smiled ever so slightly, her courtly training once again on full display. Midas, being king, outranked her. Elle did not hold with courtly manners much. In fact, she had a serious hatred for the Charmings’, but she liked Midas, and I had to wonder why. What did she know about him that I didn’t?

  “Well, you more than most understand the why. I did wrong. He punished me for it. End of story.” Her spine was rigid, and only I could see it because of my vantage point. But Midas’s eyes glittered with something that looked a lot like empathy, forcing me to reevaluate what I thought I knew versus what I’d actually only heard of in rumor.

  The king was not at all the overbearing and pompous arsehole everyone claimed him to be—or at least not with her.

  Midas tapped Elle’s breast with his closed fan. “No, my dear, there is wrong, and there is right. Rules be damned. You were the brightest pearl amongst them, and if they couldn’t see that, then they be damned. I will no longer run trade with your father. I abhor the very sight of him.”

  “Midas, why… why do you tell me this?” she asked with a small shake.

  He smirked, glancing up beneath his long lashes at me, and there was a glimmer of approval on his face as he scanned me up and down. The king clearly enjoyed what he saw. But I kept my face composed, because I was naught but a “submissive” at the gala and unless “my goddess” willed me to speak, I could not break character.

  “Do you think, my dear Detective,” he said softly, leaning in conspiratorially, “that you and your partner could grace me with your presences later in the evening? A dance? The four of us?”

  “Four?” she asked.

  He grinned, the look shy. “I plan to introduce my new beau later. But I thought perhaps you’d like a private meeting first. See if I get your approval.”

  “Do you need my approval?” she asked with a hint of laughter.

  He rolled his eyes. “Don’t be ridiculous, darling. Still, I’d like to know I had it all the same.”

  She nodded slowly and reached up, took his elbow in her hand, and gave it a gentle squeeze. “Then I accept your invitation, my old friend.”

  Midas dipped his head to Elle’s forehead, the two of them breathing in one another’s air. I did not think it was an accident. It looked more ritualistic, like a deed they’d performed many times in another life, one she’d long since left behind. I wasn’t sure. But they stayed united for several seconds, enough to get noticed by passersby. Two beautiful women seemingly locked in a lovers’ embrace.

  Elle had a past, an entire life I’d only ever been peripherally aware of, but I could see a glimpse of it here, and I couldn’t help but wonder who she might have become had Triton not done to her as he’d done.

  Midas pressed his gloved finger against her lips once before quickly stepping back and spreading his arm. “So tell me, how does my little soiree stack up against your father’s? Be kind now—I might behead you if you don’t tell me mine is best.”

  Tilting her head back, she laughed with an open gaiety that was quite frankly mesmerizing to behold.

  “Well, how could you ever know if I were being honest now? Yours is the best, of course.” Her eyes glittered, and her lips turned up just slightly at the corner.

  Midas softly snorted. “No cannibalism masquerading as entertainment—at least there’s that,” he said with a wrinkle of his pert nose, and at first I thought he was surely exaggerating until Elle sighed.

  “Yes, there is that.”

  Just what kind of court had Elle been brought up in?

  “All you have to deal with here are demons who want to suck out your soul. How very thrilling, non ?”

  She chuckled. “So you’re telling me there is more than Rasputen here? Why Hel?”

  He shrugged. “Because the Slashers would be fools to attack me in Hel, that’s why. I was well aware of the risk tonight. That doesn’t mean I came unprepared to handle it. There are currently no fewer than ten high demon lords and at least fifty half-breeds meandering in and around. More than that, a high-level s
orcerer cast a spell on this venue.” He rolled the wrist holding the fan with an elegant twirl. “Let’s just say that if you’ve come here tonight to pilfer anything, you’ll very much live to regret it. So I’d say that between the demons and the sorcerer’s spell, we’re all absolutely safe.”

  “Famous last words, my friend. You and I both know that there are those out there stronger than a handful of demons and a sorcerer’s parlor trick.”

  He snorted indelicately. “The list of which is piteously low, and well you know it.” He slapped the fan upon his palm. “I think you’re merely determined to see the glass as half-empty, my dear, and that will simply never do.”

  Midas was right. He had nearly gone above and beyond what was required to ensure the safety and comfort of his guests, and I could tell by the tugging at the ends of Elle’s rosebud lips that she knew it too. I could feel the tension emanating in waves off of her, but outwardly, she kept herself composed.

  “So in other words,” she said slowly, “you didn’t need us at all.”

  His laugh was light and feminine. “Obviously, my dear. But I missed your pretty face, so here we are.” He shrugged unrepentantly.

  “Oh, Midas, I should write your gorgeous arse up for abusing our very valuable time and resources in this way.” She shook her head, allowing just a little of her annoyance to spill through her words, before she took a deep breath and said in a low voice, “Though for reasons quite beyond me, I can never seem to get angry with you even when you desperately deserve my wrath, you awful, odious male.”

  Midas laughed lightly and tapped Elle’s nose with his fan. “Enjoy yourselves, and mind that you do not let your slave wander…” he said with a sideways look at me. “Far.”

  I lifted my brows, sensing the king would not mind if I happened to wander into his bed.

  Elle, as if sensing the undertone, sidled in closer to my side and planted a very firm and obvious gesture of claiming upon my nude chest and rubbed her palm over it. “My pet will cause you no trouble. You have my word.”

  My brow lifted. Was she… jealous? Hm.

  “Ah.” Midas grinned and nodded at us both as his hawklike gaze studied the two of us. “So it is like that then. My apologies. I figured it wouldn’t hurt to try. Enjoy yourselves. This is my gift to you, Elle, for years of cherished friendship.”

  Then taking her hand in his, he lifted her knuckles to his mouth and pressed a dainty kiss there. She nodded her thanks.

  Only once he’d moved off did I dare to look at her in the face.

  “How long do we stay?” I asked, wondering whether we should just call Bo and end it now. “We might still have time to make the assignation with your— ”

  “No.” She looked up at me, her jeweled eyes gleaming, but exhaustion was clearly stamped on her face. “We stay. High demon lords or no, there is no way in Hel that we can leave the king. Because if anything does happen and there was no Grimm PD on sight, Bo’s right—Draven would roast our balls over a spit and feast on our bones. Midas is a clever bastard. But he’s a bastard.”

  She sounded tired. I sniffed and looked around, wondering who in the twin hells the demons were. Demons weren’t always the stereotypical red-skinned human-monster amalgamations straight from your worst nightmares with cloven hooves and tails and smelling of brimstone. Though some did, most didn’t. Most could very easily pass for human. There were telltale signs, though most of them had learned to control their baser natures by adapting a more refined air. Why? Simple—money.

  Money talked.

  Very few things mattered to a demon so much as the gain of money, and demons could rarely afford to be trusted, but they would dance a jig for the highest bidder. They had zero shame when it came to selling out their “loyalty,” but Midas didn’t strike me as the type who wasn’t also keenly aware of their flaws. Still, Midas, unlike most kings, had an endless coffer at his disposal. I’d imagine that kept the demons on his payroll very contented indeed.

  “Let’s dance, my pet.” Elle held her hand out to me, and I dipped my head, then I took her in my arms and twirled us gracefully around the dance floor.

  But we were not simply here to enjoy ourselves. We were scanning the room, looking for anything unusual or out of place.

  After half an hour of people-watching, Elle tapped my shoulder. I turned to look down at her, but she was looking off to her left.

  “At my eight,” she whispered then pulled my head down toward her. My lips grazed her long, slender neck, and fire crawled through my bones at the touch of her sweet and briny-scented flesh. My skin prickled with heat as I pretended to be nothing more than her amorous submissive.

  I ran my hands around her trim waist and slid them slowly up her spine, making her hiss and lean into my touch. She twirled us so that I could see what she had, and when she did, I saw a lone inky-black feather curved delicately upon the marble ground and, in a small neat pile beside it, more golden grains of sand.

  “They’re here,” I growled.

  CHAPTER 24

  DETECTIVE ELLE

  THE MOMENT we spied the feather and the sand, we both went on high alert. We couldn’t afford to stop dancing or in any way stand out from the rest of the revelers. But my skin crawled with goose bumps as I scanned the cold porcelain masks of those surrounding us.

  Everyone danced as we did. Laughed, talked, ate, and had sex as they pleased, with no shame or ulterior motives other than to satisfy all lusts of the flesh.

  We could be surrounded, for all I knew, but I knew in my gut the Slashers were there, and judging by the way Maddox had suddenly tensed up beneath my palm, I knew he knew it too.

  His breath was a hot caress on the shell of my ear as he whispered, “Do we tell Midas that his wards have failed?”

  I turned my hip into his so that he would know to twirl me, and Maddox did just as I’d hoped he would. I took the turn slowly, studying the crush of humanity, looking for a sign, a hint, anything.

  How in the hells, with all the safety precautions in place, had the Slashers gotten through? If a sorcerer had indeed spelled the venue—and if Midas said it, I did not doubt it—it should have been impossible for a Slasher to get in here. My skin prickled and my scalp burned as I felt my magick begin a slow churning glide and crawl through me.

  Impossible though it was and as unlikely as it seemed, I knew they were here. I scanned the masked and unmasked faces, pulse thundering in my ears as I looked for more than mere specks of sand and a single black feather.

  Rarely did my gut lead me astray, but as I watched dancers twirl and glide gracefully across the marble dance floor, a niggle of doubt began to chew away at my insides. Maybe it had been a prank? Some fool who thought it would be funny to try to spook the others?

  But I couldn’t believe that. The Slasher Gang was becoming as notorious as the bogeyman killer of days past. They’d become a nervous buzzword. People all over the hundred realms were justifiably worried about the gangs growing a thirst for violence and bloodshed. And the crowd didn’t strike me as the type to make light of the recent uptick in homicides.

  “Anything?” I murmured to Maddox, twirling my finger up and down the column of his strong neck.

  “No,” he rumbled. “You?”

  I swallowed, shaking my head as I momentarily glanced at an elegant-looking couple dressed from head to toe in white and gold. They didn’t even have an inch of skin on display. Not odd in and of itself, but their movements were… strange. I couldn’t really describe it, but they looked as though they weren’t dancing so much as gliding—on air.

  “Maddox,” I murmured. I felt his stare like a brand upon my face. I shook my head, wondering why it was that the couple should stand out so to me. Not until the third pass of their forms did it click.

  Their costume was decidedly avian in nature. I frowned.

  Birds.

  My stomach was gripped by painful nerves.

  Maddox squeezed my fingers, silently telling me that he was seeing it too.
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  Men and women in yards of exquisite Arabian silks with golden-dipped plumes of feathers resting like crowns upon their heads glided past. On their faces, they wore golden masks with eerie facial expressions upon them—surprise, laughter, annoyance, jeering.

  I wrapped my arm around Hatter’s waist and snapped him back to my side, careful to keep my face composed, to not let on that I was aware, that I was anything more than a mere spectator in the crowd.

  The tune of the music changed, becoming sultrier, with beautifully erotic undertones. It was a tango of strings and wind instrumentals.

  Maddox, who I was learning was an exquisite dancer, took lead, gliding us seamlessly through the steps, covering up my lack of skill or finesse with his so that it actually looked as if I knew what in the hells I was doing.

  Brushing my fingers over his gold-painted hair, I pressed my cheek to his.

  My heart raced frantically as now there weren’t just one or two bird-clad dancers with us but six, then ten, then twenty, then I stopped counting. They were marching like ants out of a disturbed mound, and I didn’t have a damned clue how they’d shown up or how we’d even missed them in the first place.

  I frowned. “Maddox,” I murmured, grazing my lips along the very edge of his.

  He growled, acting as though he were lost in my touch, but I felt my partner’s tension and knew he was just as aware of our current predicament as I was.

  His fingers grazed the curve of my ass, making me feel electrified, making my throat ache with the burgeoning desire of my siren’s charms. I could feel the song resting upon my tongue. It would be nothing to open my mouth and fell them all, drop the birds to the ground, stone dead.

  But I wouldn’t simply kill them. I’d hurt them all, the innocents along with the guilty, and I couldn’t do that. Hatter twirled me, and I felt the cold, comforting glide of my firearm that I’d tucked into its holster on my inner thigh. That was only a very desperate plan B, if push came to shove. There were still far too many civilians in here. The odds of me hurting one of them were far too high. But the feel of steel was comforting to my strained nerves.