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My own demonic complication strolls casually through the center of the showroom, where Oberon had hoped to display the Helm of Darkness. The demons who have it, appropriately dubbed the Knights of Hades, would never part with it of course.
Instead, the Nightshades had offered our own personal possessions for a one night display. It was the least we could do for Wren while she recovered. It was Eloise’s idea, and when Wren was finally aware enough to think of the gallery, she’d hugged our future queen with tears in her eyes.
Wren stands next to Ashe, his hand possessively clamped around her. She’s wearing contacts, as is he, while her Newgate peers continue to approach her to offer false condolences and to tell her how proud her father would be of her keeping the gallery going.
It’s a marvel how gracious Wren is able to sound, given that Oberon had slit her throat in a quest for immortality. The true miracle is how calm Lan is while hearing the platitudes, given how he’d dismembered Oberon in a brutal frenzy. From what Malachi said, there was little left to identify Oberon and Lan had only spent moments destroying him.
Given that Wren is Lan’s pregnant mate, I wasn’t surprised.
I find my own mate, my wife, my Cassandra. But, of course, it isn’t her inspecting Kasar’s lion stylized helm from his days as a varangian soldier under his sire Sir Mhichíl. It’s Eris, the chaos demon my witch wife summoned when we were on the verge of a defeat that would have ended the Nightshades. I wrestle with a strange dichotomy daily, knowing that while I find my wife gorgeous and desirable, it’s not really her.
In addition to Kasar’s helm and gauntlets, Ambrose’s favored elk hilted blades, Malachi’s flintlock pistol, and my own short sword have been brought out of secure storage for the opening exhibit.
Tonight, Eris has foregone her standard black clothing, opting instead for a short, dark gunmetal silver backless dress that hugs her ass and shows off long, toned legs. Legs I’m intimately familiar with how they taste, how they feel wrapped around my waist. Her black hair is pulled back in a simple braid that lays along her spine--a spine I’ve spent hours memorizing with my lips.
As daring as the back is, the dress’ neckline is straight across and the shoulders are sharp before the sleeves embrace elegant arms all the way to her narrow wrists. Wrists I’d sink my fangs into the same moment my cock sank into Cassandra.
Ever since Eris took possession of Cassandra’s body, she’s worn her nails as vicious demon talons and in the last decade began to paint them. Tonight, though, her fingers and nails are sheathed by silver filigree rings that imitate claws, turning them into a thing of fierce beauty and belying their cruel nature. She’s darkened her eyes with black liner, but otherwise her makeup is neutral, letting Cassandra’s natural, sweet face shine through.
Dammit, I miss my wife.
My cock twitches as I watch Eris cradle the champagne flute in her fingers and grit my teeth. It is my wife I want, my mate whom I get scarce moments with when Eris feels benevolent. Not the demon in current control of her body.
Yet, when Eris meets my gaze from across the showroom, her lips tilted in a mischievous smile, a part of me wonders if...
No. I turn my back on the demon, refusing to give life to the desires that have tried to take root in my heart as I’ve been forced to work with Eris. It is simply what it has always been--my longing for Cassandra, my mate. Any man would be tempted if they had to work with their mate for over a century but be unable to claim her for his own as he’d grown accustomed to.
It’s only this hard right now because of Eris’s willingness to help my recovery. She’d been at the clan house when I’d been taken there, bleeding out from the bullet that grazed my heart. It wouldn’t have killed me, especially once Josephine had removed the bullet. But Eris had guided my mouth to her neck--to Cassandra’s neck--and I’d fed. For days, she did that, all the while talking to me. In the beginning, I’d thought it was Cassandra, and maybe it was. Maybe they both brought me back, but when I’d finally been fully recovered, it was only Eris at my side.
I press my finger to my earpiece. “Status?”
Despite the Nightshades being the source for the break-ins and hazing of the gallery, Wren has still employed Nocturna Solutions. Something about the other contractor being too hesitant considering supernaturals being the primary assailants. Humans, I scoff.
“Clear enough I’m tempted to flirt with the blonde by the Ottoman Empire vases,” Malachi’s bored voice replies. I shake my head, bemused.
“One day, you’ll find a woman who knocks you on your knees,” I reply, finding a clear space in the back to lean against the wall and shove my hands in my pockets, studiously not looking towards Eris before failing miserably.
“There’s too many women to ever settle down with just one,” Malachi retorts. “I’ll leave monogamy to the rest of you. Consider it my self-appointed duty for maintaining PR between us and humans.”
I roll my eyes and don’t bother replying. Malachi is the same as he always is, and even as a human he was too wild to settle down. He was too busy climbing the command chain in the military and now he’s busy running the Nightshade’s foot soldiers and planning his venture into entertainment with his burlesque theater and restaurant in Newgate.
Unable to resist the pull towards Eris, I watch her glide through the gallery. Men and women both give her appreciative glances, but none are brave enough to approach her. Cassandra’s sweet natured face may be inviting, but Eris’s natural aura of fuck around and find out keeps people at bay.
The quiet jazz is silenced and Wren leaves Ashe’s side to take her place just off to the side of the main display. Her cello is brought out by an assistant dressed in all black, and her mate watches protectively from the side as she begins to play.
Eris drifts away, and I follow her movements. Wren’s returned the celestial blade to the demon, though the curse on it prevents Eris from wielding it. She looks casual, relaxed, but I know her too well. Something is wrong.
Pushing off the wall, I move towards her, slipping through the crowd with murmured apologies. If there’s an issue, I don’t want to tip the assailants off. In moments, I’m at her side, my hand cupping her elbow.
Eris doesn’t give me time to question her before she speaks. “He’s here,” she hisses, her eyes scanning the crowd. No need to ask who she means, not after she finally revealed the bargain Eris and Cassandra had made. “There,” she says, inclining her head towards the entrance.
A dark haired man is slipping out of the door.
“Let’s go.” I update Malachi as we head out. I’m determined to take down this Aeternaphiel and get my wife back. We make it onto the busy sidewalk in time to see the archangel get into a car and drive away.
I grab Eris’s arm before she can chase the car down in her tall heels and ignore her snarl. I steer her towards my black Jaguar parked on the street. “Get in.”
Eris doesn’t hesitate and I move to the driver’s side, searching the road ahead for the town car among the traffic. I spot it and smirk before getting in. The engine roars to life and calm settles in my veins. It’s time to do what I do best.
* * *
