Page 50 of Claiming Starlight
Appearing as bloodless and cold as their masters, each mage wore his magic like he wore his white sheet clothing layered with varying spells. Although she’d always known the magic was there, today it was clearer, crisper. Each sorcerer cast his own kind of spells, some in service to the archon and some in his own favor. Sophie could smell and hear the magic so clearly, she might even have been able to guess what each spell did if she tried.
That was new. Very new. During her last encounter with a sorcerer, she could see his real old-man face and was aware of his active magic, but that was it. No discernable details. Her ability seemed to have dramatically improved.
“Sophie, welcome home.” Sitting in his chair, dressed in a black suit and paisley-patterned silver tie, Cyril tipped his head in greeting. His white hair spilled over his shoulders in a smooth waterfall of perfection. It should; he had people who did nothing but care for his hair.
Without thinking, Sophie responded to the greeting, stepping toward him, intending to fall into the low court curtsey he liked to see.
But Micah’s hands on her shoulders stopped her. He pulled her into himself, the way he had at the party. “You don’t do that anymore, baby.”
“Well and truly claimed, I see,” Cyril spoke with an affected southern drawl. Sophie had vague memories from her childhood of people around him with the same lazy, melodic way of speaking, but they were all gone now, victims to his temper and appetite.
“You said you had important information and wished to deal?” Micah asked in a clipped, dangerous tone that raised the hair on the back of Sophie’s neck.
“Let me first greet my child, lykánthropos king. Come to me, Sophie,” Cyril commanded.
Sophie didn’t move. Micah had her anchored, but the archon’s former natural ability to compel her was absent. A well-remembered sense of fear swirled through her stomach, making it twist, but the rest was missing.
The muscles tightened around Cyril’s eyes, a minute hardening of the lines there expressing his displeasure. Seeing it, two of his red-blood attendants folded gracefully to their knees, palms up in supplication, ready to appease.
But it was the vampir on the scaffolding who bore the brunt of his dissatisfaction. With only the lifting of a finger—a command to the sorcerers—the woman moaned. A ticking sound emanated from her chest as her moan deepened, the rapid click catching the attention of the brood house court. That sound meant something to the other vampir in the room. They could all do it, but Sophie had only heard it from those receiving punishment or during their reproductive seasons. Like everything Cyril caused, the sound was incongruous and grotesque. The naked, bony body twitched in the ropes, nowhere for her to go.
“We didn’t come for a show.” Micah snapped. “If you have nothing to say to me directly, I want to get Sophie’s possessions. They will do you no good now, she won’t be coming back to your care.”
“So impatient. As if you’re running out of time. Time is all we have, darling. But as you will. Your word is your binding. Do you agree to the boundaries set during the Aftermath Accords?”
“Nothing has changed. I agree to the same terms we had before.”
“Good. But I am not sure your people know which side of the eyeninety they belong on.” Cyril looked past Micah to those behind them. Was he looking at Dante and Jumper? Held close against Micah’s side, Sophie couldn’t turn her head to see.
“Are we banned then? Each to his own side? No more visits either way?” Micah asked.
“I didn’t say that, darling.” Cyril wouldn’t like that. He believed all the best food lived on Micah’s side of the divide, Sophie knew.
“You already know Ranalf has been dealt with. He bought the Morghanna’s blood price from you, which makes me think you and yours knew he was in your territory—that it was all A-OK with you. If you didn’t want him here paying you gasoline he stole from his own people to buy offerings, then you should have fucking said something to me.”
“I am just a poor archon. I don’t control everything. Do I know all and see all my people do? I do not, nor more than you do. I did not invite a skýlos here. And I gave no permission for the displacement of my dear children. No, I did not do that, darling. But, one must admit when one makes mistakes, yes? I must own them, and I am afraid I made a mistake.”
His drawl became big and expansive, but the man himself barely moved, raising a finger again to command his sorcerers and servants. “Dear lil’ Sophie is not my only adopted child, y’all must understand, but sometimes I cannot give each dearling the attention he or she needs. My young wards are given to guardians who are expected to raise them properly.”
Sophie was going to say something, but the way Cyril’s eyes flicked over the vampir being tortured made her pause and look again. Female vampir had a nub of a tail growing from the base of their spine. They also had distinctly small waists paired with their fleshy behinds; in fact, all their extra fat was stored in their backsides, below that chubby nub of a tail.
Cyril must have seen that Sophie’s gaze had followed his. “I had such high hopes for you, lil’ Sophie. If you wanted a mate, I could have found such a handsome young buck, someone of your own kind. Don’t you trust me?”
“Stop compelling my woman, Silver,” Micah’s voice deepened, the ripple of his beast surging up to protect her.
And her mind wentthere. Right there to Avo’s back yard.Micah’s animal face over hers, long tongue licking her, mouthing at her breasts and lower. Heat bloomed, arousal swelled, and her heartbeat erratically. Inappropriate and crude, she couldn’t stop her reaction.
Heads turned toward her.Knowing.It was so embarrassing. Every man, stranger and friend alike, could smell her sudden arousal.
“Fuck, Sophie,” Micah muttered. He pulled her closer.
Sophie wanted to disappear.
“Indeed,” Cyril drew out the word. He gestured with a finger.
The figure on the torture rack moaned until her clicking started again. Louder this time, the sound echoed in the room. The watching court shifted in a wave, all of them together, reacting to the archon’s displeasure.
That cooled Sophie’s reaction to Micah’s beast somewhat, lowered the flame. But she still had Micah’s hard body under her hands as he tightened his possessive embrace.
