Page 14

CHAPTER 14

KARC

T he rich, earthy aroma of freshly brewed coffee fills the solarium as Raven and I sit across from each other, the morning light filtering through the oversized windows. Her fingers curl around her mug, her dark eyes catching mine with a question lingering in them.

My phone buzzes on the marble countertop. The screen flashes with a single word: Company. I glance at Raven, her brow furrowing as she watches me. I tap the image inducer at my wrist, the golden scales of my skin shimmering and fading into the smooth, human tan of Kirk Stevens.

"Why did you put on your human disguise?" she asks, setting her mug down with a soft clink.

"Because we're about to have company," I reply, my voice calm but edged with anticipation.

A knock echoes through the house, sharp and precise. I stride to the door, my shoes clicking against the hardwood. When I open it, a quartet of fashionistas stands on my doorstep, their presence as polished as their leather portfolios. Each one is a walking masterpiece—sleek hair, impeccable makeup, outfits that scream money.

"Mr. Stevens," the lead one greets, her voice smooth as silk. "We’re here for Ms. Raven."

Raven’s already on her feet, her arms folded across her chest like a shield. "What’s this about?"

I gesture toward the group. "This is your team. They’re here to get you ready for tonight."

Her eyes dart between me and the fashionistas, a flicker of unease crossing her face. "The last time someone did my hair for me, I was eight."

One of the women steps forward, a warm smile on her face. "Consider this a reintroduction to luxury."

Raven hesitates, her fingers fidgeting with the hem of her shirt. I step closer, my voice low but firm. "Luxury only feels strange because you’re not used to it, little bird. Embrace the pampering."

She looks up at me, her lips curling into a shy smile. "Yes, Sir," she says, letting the words slip with a teasing lilt that makes my chest tighten. She turns to the team, lifting her chin with a newfound resolve. "Let’s do this."

The women usher her toward the master bathroom, their heels clicking in unison. I watch them go, a small smile tugging at my lips. Then I head to the living room, pulling out my suit for the evening. The fabric feels heavy in my hands, the weight of what’s coming settling over me.

An hour passes. Then another. The house is quiet except for the faint hum of chatter from the bathroom. I’m halfway through polishing my shoes when I hear the sound of heels on marble.

I look up, and the air leaves my lungs.

Raven stands at the entrance to the living room, transformed. Her hair cascades in soft waves, her makeup accentuating the sharpness of her cheekbones and the depth of her eyes. The dress—black, sleek, and utterly devastating—clings to her frame like it was made for her. She’s radiant, but it’s more than that. There’s a confidence in her stance, a glow that wasn’t there before.

Her eyes meet mine, and for a moment, the world narrows to just her. Beautiful doesn’t begin to cover it.

"I guess I look all right," Raven says nervously, her fingers brushing against the sleek fabric of her dress. She shifts her weight, her eyes darting to me for reassurance.

I step closer, my gaze lingering on her. "All right? Raven, two centuries ago, I witnessed a nebula in deep space. It was a massive swirl of colors, blues and purples and pinks, stretching across light-years. It looked like a rose blooming in the void. I thought it was the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen." I pause, my voice softening. "Until now."

Her expression shifts, a flicker of something passing over her face. For a moment, she’s unreadable, her lips parting slightly as if the words are caught in her throat. Then she speaks, her voice tight, controlled, like every syllable is a struggle. "You know," she says, her eyes locked on mine, "everything you say to me, everything you do…it’s working. So don’t give up, okay?"

She turns her head away, a flush creeping up her neck, staining her cheeks. The vulnerability in her voice hits me like a blow to the chest. I close the distance between us in two strides, pulling her into my arms. She doesn’t resist, her body molding against mine as she rests her head on my chest. I can feel her heartbeat, steady but quick, like a bird’s.

When I tilt her chin up to kiss her, she places a hand on my chest, stopping me. "You just spent a lot of money painting my face, and now you want to smudge it?"

I chuckle low in my throat, my hand sliding to her waist. "Silly little bird," I growl, my lips brushing against hers. "I specifically paid extra for the most premium smudge-proof cosmetics…so I can ravish your mouth the whole way to the club."

Her laugh is soft, almost breathless, and she leans into me, her fingers curling into the fabric of my suit.I press my forehead to hers, my voice dropping to a whisper. "Impossible for anyone but you," I say before capturing her lips in a kiss that sets my blood on fire.

I escort her down to the waiting limousine, my hand resting lightly on the small of her back. The black dress clings to her curves, and the sight of her like this—confident, radiant, dangerous—makes my chest tighten. I’ve seen nebulas that couldn’t compare to her.

The driver holds the door open, and I slide in beside her. The partition between us and the driver clicks shut, sealing us in a bubble of leather and quiet. The city rushes by outside, a blur of neon and shadows.

"I’ve been waiting a long time to get access to the sixth floor," I say, my voice low. "But as this is our first time at the club, we mustn’t be too…overt in our investigations. Giscard will no doubt be watching us closely."

Raven leans back, her fingers drumming lightly against her thigh. "So, basically, we’re going to a wild Eyes Wide Shut party, and we need to watch out for anything Grolgath related while making it look like that’s not what we’re doing?" She smirks, her dark eyes glinting. "Piece of cake."

I chuckle, the sound rumbling in my chest. "You have a warrior’s heart, Raven."

She scoffs, waving a hand dismissively. "Warrior’s heart? I’m just trying not to get caught breaking into a sex dungeon. Let’s not get ahead of ourselves."

"Warriors don’t always fight with force of arms," I say, my tone serious now. "You might believe you’re just my method of gaining entry to the party, but I’ve come to value your perceptiveness and insight. I’m relying on you as much as you’re relying on me tonight."

Her grin softens, and her eyes grow distant for a moment, like she’s weighing my words. Then the fire returns, and she leans in, her voice a whisper. "Shut up, Karc, we don’t have time to fuck before we reach the club."

Her words hit me like a charging beast, and I can’t help the laugh that escapes me. The sound fills the back of the limo, and she joins in, her laughter light and infectious.

"Fair enough," I say, my voice rough with amusement. "But don’t think I’ll forget that little remark."

"Looking forward to it," she shoots back, her smile wicked.

The limo slows as we approach the entrance of Area 51, the building’s sleek facade looming ahead. I watch her, the way her confidence settles over her like armor. She’s ready for this—even if she doesn’t fully believe it yet.

So am I.

The limousine glides to a stop in front of Area 51's gleaming entrance. My hand reaches for the door, but it swings open before I can touch it. Giscard stands there, resplendent in a black tuxedo, his smile wide and welcoming.

"Kirk! And the lovely Raven. Welcome, welcome." His voice carries the practiced warmth of a consummate host.

My scales itch beneath the image inducer. Something feels off about this personal greeting.

"Giscard. I didn't expect you to meet us personally."

"Nonsense! Your first night at the Hellfire Club deserves special attention." He extends his hand to Raven, helping her from the car. "My dear, you look absolutely stunning. That dress is exquisite."

Raven's fingers tighten on his offered hand. "Thank you, Mr. Lalonde."

"Please, call me Giscard." He guides us through the main floor toward a private elevator tucked behind an ornate panel. "I simply cannot wait to show you both everything the club has to offer. The amenities are... extraordinary."

The elevator ascends smoothly. At the sixth floor, the doors part with a soft chime. Giscard reaches into his jacket pocket and produces two domino masks - one black, one gold. He holds them out to us.

"What are the masks for?" I ask, studying the intricate designs.

Giscard's smile widens as he dons his own silver mask. "Oh, my dear Mr. Stevens, we all wear masks here." He turns, gesturing us to follow him down a hallway lined with Roman columns and red velvet drapery.

"We all wear masks?" Raven whispers beside me, her voice tight with concern. "Is he messing with us?"

"Perhaps," I murmur back, my warrior's instincts screaming warnings. "Be on your guard."

The doors to the Hellfire Club swing open, and the scene that unfolds hits me like a plasma blast to the chest. The room is a cacophony of sound, color, and movement, a symphony of decadence that makes my scales itch beneath my human disguise. Giscard steps aside with a flourish, gesturing us forward like a ringmaster introducing the main act.

Raven’s hand tightens around mine as we step inside, her grip betraying the tension she’s trying to mask. The air is thick with the scent of expensive perfume, sweat, and something metallic—like the faint tang of blood. My instincts sharpen, my senses on high alert. This place is a hunting ground, and we’ve just walked into the lion’s den.

The main lounge is a sprawling expanse of marble floors and velvet drapery, dotted with clusters of masked guests sipping champagne and engaging in hushed conversations. But it’s the other guests that catch my attention—the ones who aren’t content to simply talk. Scattered across the room, couples are locked in various states of intimacy, their masks doing little to conceal the raw hunger in their eyes. A woman in a feathered mask straddles her partner on a leather chaise, her moans mingling with the soft strains of a string quartet. Nearby, a man in a silver mask kneels before his lover, his hands bound with a silk scarf as she strokes his hair.

Raven’s fingers dig into my arm, pulling my attention back to her. Her dark eyes are wide, her lips parted in a mixture of shock and fascination. I lean down, my lips brushing her ear.

"We can leave if this upsets you," I murmur, my voice low enough that only she can hear.

Her response is a breathy whisper.. "Trust me, Karc. Feeling upset is not the problem I’m having right now."

I pull back to look at her, and the heat in her gaze is enough to make my own mask feel suffocating. Her cheeks are flushed, her chest rising and falling with quick, shallow breaths. For a moment, the room fades away, the noise and spectacle replaced by the sound of her heartbeat and the faint tremor in her voice. I can’t help myself—I close the distance between us, my lips crashing into hers with a hunger that surprises even me.

Raven melts into the kiss, her hands sliding up to grip the lapels of my jacket as if she’s afraid I’ll pull away. The taste of her is intoxicating, a mix of champagne and something uniquely her that sets my blood on fire. Our masks press together, the cool metal a stark contrast to the heat building between us.

A low chuckle breaks the spell, and we pull apart to find Giscard watching us with an approving smile. "Oh, you’re going to fit right in here," he says, his tone dripping with amusement.

Raven’s cheeks flush a deeper shade of red, but she doesn’t drop her gaze. Instead, she squares her shoulders and gives Giscard a look that could melt steel. "Glad to hear it," she says, her voice steady despite the storm I can see raging behind her eyes.

Giscard gestures for us to follow him toward the buffet table, and I keep Raven’s hand firmly in mine as we weave through the crowd. Her fingers are warm, her grip a silent promise that she’s not going anywhere. And neither am I.

Giscard leads us through the club like a proud homeowner showing off his estate. The swimming pool area hits us first - a symphony of splashing water and passionate moans. Bodies writhe in and around the pool, their masks glinting in the low light.

Raven's breath catches beside me. Her fingers tighten on mine, but she doesn't look away.

The dungeon is mercifully empty when we reach it. Chrome and leather gleam under spotlights - whips, crops, and more exotic implements I recognize from my centuries of experience. Raven's eyes linger on a Saint Andrew's cross, her pupils dilating behind her mask. I file that reaction away for later.

A plain door in the corner catches my attention. It's out of place among the carefully curated decadence.

"What's through there?"

"Just maintenance." Giscard's smile doesn't waver, but his eyes narrow fractionally. "Nothing interesting, I assure you."

My warrior's instincts surge. That micro-expression tells me everything I need to know. Whatever lies behind that door, it's far from mundane.

But Giscard's already steering us back toward the main room, his hand hovering possessively at Raven's elbow. The crowd has gathered in a circle, their attention focused inward on something we can't yet see.

"Ah, we're just in time." Giscard's smile widens. "I've prepared a special entertainment just for our two newest members."