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I fell into even deeper feelings. “Always.”
He shivered.
I smiled.
Together, we descended into a night where ghosts and demons came out to play.
And hoped we’d still be alive come morning.
* * * * *
“Something doesn’t feel right, jaanu.”
I spun and caught Peter behind me.
He shifted on the spot, pressing his lips to my ear. “Victor has a smug look in his eyes. It’s giving me the fucking creeps.”
I shot a glance at Victor laughing with Roland across the room.
Slim and tall, with his own dark cape, Victor looked like a distinguished art gallery curator or slightly eccentric benefactor. The mask cutting his face in half hid a lot of his sins, but Peter was right.
His navy eyes seemed particularly pleased, kind of pompous actually.
“Come.” With a quick look at Henri who stood talking to Ben and Stewart not far away, Peter snatched my cuffed wrist and dragged me into the alcove draped with white netting that’d been hung on all the walls of the Great Hall.
For two hours, we’d mingled, all while I did my best to forget about the stickiness between my legs. Henri kept giving me knowing glances as Masters ate, drank, and grew merry.
Victor had spared no expense.
The Great Hall travelled almost the entire length of the east wing. Its polished parquet floors, sweeping high brimstone and devil painted ceilings, and hundreds of stained-glass windows made it seem as if we truly were in hell. Each stained-glass window depicted some sort of erotic carnage. From women skewered on a spears, to girls burning at the stake. Each one died a slow, painful death all while being fingered, fucked, or whipped.
The scenes were so barbaric, so brutal, I hadn’t been able to eat a thing.
Interspersed amongst the sickening windows, Victor had ordered his decorating team to drape white and black swathes of material on every wall. The black absorbed the candlelight flickering from the many candelabras while the white glittered like stardust.
I still couldn’t figure out his theme, but every Master wore the same black cloak as Henri. The same black tourmaline mask. The same aura of grim reaper gliding around the room sipping blood-red wine and laughing as they tormented their jewels.
The jewels…
If Victor had intended to make them seem like angels, he’d succeeded.
Every one of us wore the same white gossamer fabric. The girls in wispy petal dresses with trains long enough for Masters to stomp on, and the boys in trousers and shirts so fine and sheer, the shadows of their bodies were visible, teasing bastards to touch.
I looked up at Peter’s face.
His matching mask of crystals glittered with rainbows, casting pinks and greens over his lips.
I hated that we hadn’t had much time to talk.
I missed him even though he was standing right there.
I wanted to tell him I loved him but…I had a feeling that would hurt him too much. Not because I had such deep feelings for him but because those feelings were purely platonic.
He was my friend and soulmate. Just like my brother.
If I hadn’t found the missing part of my soul, then perhaps we would’ve ended up as a couple.
But…in this life, this incarnation, I was Henri’s.
