A Kiss of Flame (Shadows Eternal #3)

Chapter 9

Chapter Nine

B arith tried to tamp down the fire bubbling up inside him as he followed Levian and Sil through the dark passageway. He’d been upset. He was still upset. But it had been sloppy and childish of him to openly state their intentions back at the pool.

They’d changed out of their wet clothes while Levian had laid out her slightly altered plan. They had the attention of the Eldreth now, so all they needed to do was play their parts and hope for an opportunity to mention the orb. Barith had communicated in nothing but grumbles and grunts.

Levian sashayed ahead of him, her silk slip dress clinging and hinting at every curve of her lithe body. He needed to get a handle on himself. To tamp down the fire she’d started. Barith hadn’t realized he’d growled until Levian shot him a look back over her shoulder.

Barith forced himself to keep his eyes on the back of her curled head. They hadn’t talked about the kiss. She hadn’t mentioned it once, though it was all he could think about. Flashes played over and over in his mind, and he struggled to push them away—her soft skin and sweet lips, the way his insides had turned molten with raw desire. He was still smoldering.

He wasn’t much in the mood for this adventure anymore, but he was trying to rally himself for her sake. He’d promised Levian his help. It wasn’t her fault he was a delusional horned-up git. He’d taken it too far back at the pool, and he felt like an arse for it. In the moment, he’d thought he’d felt something shared between them. Something— real. It wasn’t the first time he’d been wrong, but it stung all the same.

“The rules of the inner chambers are the same,” Sil explained, drawing him out of his head, “but within, you’ll find many attendants willing to deliver whatever you desire. Don’t hesitate to request anything you feel may enhance your experience. Truly, anything.”

Levian took Barith’s arm, and the fire sizzled deep in his core. She smiled at the fae, unaware of his struggle. At the very end of the hall hung a long black velvet curtain, which Sil pulled back with a grin and encouraged, “Do enjoy yourselves.”

“Aye,” Barith grumbled as they slipped through the barrier. “We intend to.”

The main room of the inner chambers was dark and intimate. The floors were dark marble, covered in lush carpets and oversized pillows that resembled beds. Several couches and chairs were tucked into dim corners. The walls, rather than enchanted, were dark-paneled wood with flaming sconces. The whole atmosphere brought to mind an upscale London brothel from centuries ago. There was a nostalgic quality and a level of unfettered debauchery that seemed to suit the dark ambiance.

The moment they entered the room, Barith understood why the inner chambers weren’t offered to everyone. The first face he recognized was the elected Magistrate for the witches of London—a chubby male witch stripped to his boxer shorts, bound, gagged, and bent over a table as a daemon male and female dressed in leathers tickled him with outrageously long feathers. Next was a fae princess passionately rolling about naked with two other fae females from different kingdoms on one of the giant pillows. A zephyr highborn, likely of the Court, lounged on a couch, his white feathery wings unfurled as a topless pixie straddled him, dropping raspberries into his mouth. He waved lazily at Levian in greeting. The last familiar face was Deckland, Sirus and Niah’s vampire brother, who sat in the darkest corner, fully clothed, with his grey shirt half unbuttoned, smoking a long pipe.

The vampire stared directly at him, causing Barith’s skin to prickle. He still got that chill when Sirus looked at him, despite knowing the vamp for centuries. He was surprised to see Deckland here—vampires weren’t usually welcome amongst the Folk, even in these circles. Though things had shifted somewhat for vampires in recent years, given their impending extinction. They were a rare commodity. Only a dozen or so remained now. The magick used to create new ones had stopped working over a century ago.

Levian glided along the edge of the room, taking two glasses of pink, bubbling fae wine from a tray. She yanked Barith into a vacant, dark alcove. “We may have a problem,” she mumbled, shoving a drink into his hand.

He grunted. “Already? Is it the zephyr?”

Levian took a sip and turned to look at him. “The zephyr is a highborn brat whose father sits on the Zephyr High Court and would likely have him flogged if he knew his son was here with a pixie.”

Barith grunted again. “Sounds like a real peach.”

Levian rubbed her temple. “The point is he won’t say anything about seeing me here, and I won’t say anything about seeing him either. Did you see Deckland?”

“Aye,” Barith grumbled, peeking out from their nook. The vampire was still watching him. A shiver ran up his spine, dousing some of the raging fire Levian had left behind.

“Well,” the mage whispered, her voice barely audible above the thumping electronic music—an odd choice, given the nostalgic decor. “I’d forgotten until just now that Niah mentioned something about Deckland working for some pixies in the Americas.”

Barith’s stomach churned. “What kind of work?” he questioned.

Levian’s face was uncertain. “I don’t know, but him being here tonight feels like more than a coincidence. I think he might be involved in tonight’s deal .”

“He could just be here for the same reason as everyone else,” Barith countered. “It’s not like some of the Folk don’t enjoy vampires, and this crowd clearly has unique tastes.”

Levian let out a deep breath through her nose, downing her wine. “Maybe,” she half-conceded. “But I have a feeling and?—”

“Ye, I know,” he grumbled, finishing his glass too. “Yer instincts are never wrong. He could be doing other work, though,” he added. “Ye can’t know he’s here to do that deal. He might just be here to kill someone.”

Levian shot him a look that said enough. Deckland wouldn’t be so noticeable if he were here to kill someone, and that wasn’t exactly what his and Sirus’s clan of vampires was known for. They were hunters primarily. Trackers.

Her gaze drifted, and Barith’s stomach grew more uneasy. “We need to stick to the plan,” he reminded her. “Play with the others, build goodwill, meet with those pixies, and negotiate for them to sell your orb. Don’t involve Deckland if you don’t?—”

“Don’t you think we should at least try to find out if Deckland is involved?” she pressed. “If he’s brokering deals for Dokk artifacts with the Eldreth, it’s not exactly nothing .”

“It’s his business,” Barith said firmly. “We aren’t part of his clan, and neither is he anymore.” He’d left it years ago, leaving Sirus and Niah as the last two remaining members of the Clan of Wolves. Deckland was a rogue vampire now, which made him an even more dangerous wild card.

Levian let out an irritated huff. “We can’t ignore him,” she snapped. “It’d be strange if we did.”

“I think we can do just that,” he told her. Neither of them knew Deckland well; if he was working with the Eldreth, that was even more the reason to leave him be.

The mage snorted, and Barith’s unease deepened. Levian was stubborn, and once her heart was set on something, it was near impossible to deter her—short of locking her in a steel box. Barith didn’t doubt he could find one here in Kamár, but he doubted the attendants could get one fast enough.

He’d been right. “I’ll just say hello,” Levain told him, sliding out of the alcove and heading straight for the vampire, leaving Barith with little choice but to swallow his anxieties. He cursed, still facing the wall, then turned to follow.

Deckland had been an English aristocrat, by Barith’s guess, before he’d been turned into a vampire. The vamp was of average height, ghostly pale, with a slim athletic build, wavy dark hair, thick brows, a hooked nose, and slightly crooked teeth, forever appearing in his early thirties.

As they approached, Deckland finally shifted his gaze from Barith to Levian. “Well,” Deckland drawled, exhaling a puff from his pipe, “what brings two of my brother’s wayward friends all the way down to the catacombs of London?”

“A pleasure to see you again, too, Deckland,” Levian replied, notably standing behind the empty chair across from the vampire instead of taking it. “I thought you were in the Americas?”

Deckland smiled slightly, his crystalline blue eyes shifting between them. “I was,” he replied. “I came over for a bit of work.”

Barith could sense Levian’s tension rising like his own. It’s why nobody liked lingering around vampires. The instinctual discomfort felt near vampires had lessened with Niah and Sirus due to familiarity and exposure, but Deckland was unpredictable.

“I see,” Levian said. “Have you been home, then? To visit Volkov?”

Deckland’s face lit with the pale orange glow of his pipe, smoke seeping from his nostrils. His taunting demeanor shifted to something darker. “I haven’t. Though I hear my brother is to be married. Apparently, all the Hells of the Underworld can freeze over after all.”

Barith doubted Deckland knew the whole story. It wasn’t as if the vampires shared family gossip. Barith wasn’t even sure Deckland knew about Gwen possessing the Celestial Star of Umbra or that she was now half-vampire.

“She’s a good lass,” Barith said defensively. “Your brother’s happy.”

Deckland half-grinned. “I wish him felicitations,” he replied dryly. His eyes flickered between Levian and Barith. “So, what brings you here?” He pressed. “I know you two like indulgences, but this is a place for unique and dark delights. Or are you here to enjoy each other without whispers back home?”

Barith’s skin tightened, and Levian scoffed loudly. “Hardly,” she snapped. Her disgust was palpable, cutting through him like a sharp blade.

The vampire’s gaze lingered on Levian as he balanced his pipe between his teeth. “If you aren’t here to pleasure each other,” Deckland continued, “I’ve no doubt you’ll find ample willing partners up to the task.” Barith felt the insinuation shiver through his bones, his fists clenching at his sides.

Levian leaned in over the chair, her necklaces dangling. “A partner like you?” she asked outright, her tone shifting to one of curiosity. Barith’s mouth fell open.

Deckland didn’t flinch. He took a slow drag from his pipe, letting the smoke seep out between his lips. “You are a rather rare beauty,” he replied coolly. “And I cannot say I’m not interested, but I feel you might be attempting to provoke more than procure.”

At least the vampire was sharp enough to figure that out, Barith thought. He didn’t know what Levian was playing at.

The mage slid from behind her chair and sauntered over to Deckland, the vampire watching her without a shift in his expression. Levian took the empty space beside him on the leather couch and brushed her fingers lightly up the vamp’s thigh. Fire blinded Barith's vision, and it took every ounce of control not to snarl at her for her insanity. Playing games with Deckland was a bad idea. Playing games with any vamp was a bad idea.

The mage playfully plucked the pipe from Deckland’s hand. “You do know what they say about curiosity,” she teased, flashing a tempting smile before taking a puff of her own and blowing the smoke in his face.

Deckland didn’t react, but his eyes dropped to her mouth, then to her exposed throat.

Barith’s blood pounded in his ears, ready to intervene, but Levian raised her hand and waved him away the moment his muscles twitched to take action. “Why don’t you find a playmate of your own, Barith?” she suggested, still focused on Deckland. “I believe I’ll be occupied for a while.” She held the pipe for the vampire, who hesitated before taking a drag.

Barith’s eyes lingered on the spot where her hand rested on the vampire’s leg, and he tried his best to tamp down the rage boiling inside him. Levian could be infuriatingly stubborn, but this was beyond what was reasonable. Barith was tempted to haul her crazy arse over his shoulder and drag her out, kicking and screaming, if it meant saving her from herself.

“She’ll be fine,” Deckland drawled in a pathetic attempt to assuage or mock him; Barith wasn’t sure which. His fists clenched harder as he glared the vamp down.

“Go on,” she said, shooing him away. “Go have fun.”

It stung. All of it. The dismissal. The touching. The vampire. The fact that she wouldn’t talk about their kiss. The fact that she seemed to have no sense of self-preservation. Barith was desperate for air, except he was fucking buried underground. So, in his encompassing frustration, he did exactly what she told him. He turned around, his fire festering, and locked eyes on the naked fae princess rolling around with her companions on the floor. Without a word, he stalked over to their giant pillow and knelt beside them.

“Hello,” he growled. The princess and her companions popped up, startled, then smiled and giggled as they took him in. “May I join you?” he asked, devoid of enthusiasm.

The fae princess was plump with pink-hued porcelain skin and large breasts. She rose to her knees, scooting up to him. Her rumpled lavender curls accentuated her rounded features. She fit much closer to the type of woman Levian had accused him of preferring. The princess slid her hands over his chest while her companions came up beside him to rub his arms.

The princess eyed his tail, which lay curled beside him. “A dragon,” she cooed. “My sisters will die with envy!” She giggled, and her companions followed suit as they pulled him into their pile. Before he knew it, his shirt was gone, and three pairs of hands roamed over him with abandon.

The touches, the attention—none of it mattered.

He felt nothing.

Nothing but the rage building in his belly, a desire to haul Levian as far away from Kamár as possible, and the urge to knock Deckland square in the jaw.

Levian caught Barith out of the corner of her eye, rolling around with the faerie tarts on the floor. She couldn’t determine what was happening in the dark periphery, but her imagination ran wild, her blood running hot as giggles ebbed and rose.

She hadn’t planned on this approach with Deckland, but once she’d gotten a hint of his interest, she felt she had to see at least where it led. It wasn’t as if she could have explained to Barith, right in front of the vampire: I’m going to fake seduce him and try to weasel information out of him about the Eldreth with magick.

Maybe she’d been a little rude shooing Barith away, but they had agreed to play their parts and spread out once they got into the inner chambers. That’s precisely what they were doing, and though it pained her to admit, Barith writhing about with a fae princess and her partners would probably please the Eldreth to no end. She could feel everyone’s attention shifting, making her skin prickle with irritation.

Deckland tilted his head as if sensing her rising temper. Levian tried to refocus on the reason she was doing this to start. She ran the back of her finger along his jaw. His skin was cold and off-putting. Touching him made her feel sick to her stomach. To her shame, Levian wondered how her dear friend Gwen managed to touch Sirus, let alone sleep with him.

“I’m wondering if you’re not the one who was trying to provoke earlier,” she said, ignoring the urge to look over to see what had caused the latest giggle fit from the faeries. “Or are you afraid I’ll bite?”

Deckland had not touched her, which was a relief, but to weave her magick more effectively, it would help. It would also help if he loosened his guard a little.

Vampires were strange creatures—the dying who chose to be reborn through shadow magick. They weren’t entirely living or dead, making them challenging to charm with magick. It didn’t help that Kamár was dampened, already limiting the raw magick that normally flowed through the aether. It would be tricky to pull off, especially undetected, but not impossible.

Deckland’s shirt was unbuttoned, exposing a thin patch of dark hair against ivory skin. She intended to drop her fingers there in an attempt to entice him, but she shifted away instead, leaning back. The thought of touching the vampire in that way made her stomach turn, not just because of what he was, but because she had touched Barith like that not more than half an hour earlier.

When she pulled away, Deckland reached out and delicately ran a finger along the edge of her arm. Goosebumps broke out immediately, and she fought the instinct to shiver.

“What game do you play?” the vampire wondered aloud. “I know you and the dragon like to wager. Is that what you were discussing when you entered? Did you bet you could seduce me?” He took another pull from his pipe, his sharp blue gaze never wavering.

Levian opened her mouth to deny the accusation but thought better of it. The vampire was clever, and she wasn’t the most convincing liar. But she wasn’t without her tricks. “There’s no wager,” she admitted honestly.

More groans came from the pile, and she forced her eyes to stay glued on Deckland despite the temptation to look elsewhere. It was the vampire who turned to see the commotion. He smirked. “I believe you may have made a poor choice,” he drawled. “The dragon seems to be having much more fun.”

Levian forced a breathy laugh, and Deckland’s attention snapped back to her. “Barith and I have never had quite the same standards when it comes to this kind of fun. He likes to rut on the floor with whoever will have him, while I prefer a partner with whom I can match wits. Besides,” she cocked her head and made a show of looking him over, “after spending last winter in Volkov and walking in on your brother and his fiancée caught in the throes of passion, I can’t help but wonder if I’ve been too narrow-minded about keeping a vampire lover.”

She had wondered, though this encounter was quickly dousing that curiosity. Deckland’s cool expression faltered at the mention of his brother being caught in the heat of passion. He was slow to reply but did, in time. “Vampires are cold by nature, but that doesn’t mean we lack the desire to be engulfed by flames on occasion.”

“Romantic,” she teased.

“Dangerous,” he countered.

A shiver ran up her spine, and Deckland smirked in response. Levian was beginning to feel silly now, and she hated feeling embarrassed. The vampire rose slowly, holding his hand out for her to take. Levian delicately placed her hand in his. There was no warmth, only a frigid chill that spread through her palm and up her arm. Deckland raised her hand and brushed his lips over the top. Her stomach heaved.

“I have business in an hour,” he told her.

“Oh?” she replied, her plan coming back into focus. More breathy giggles echoed through the room, and her pulse quickened with annoyance.

He nodded. “I have a room, if you’d like to go somewhere more private?”

She stood, and he looked into her face, his cold eyes searching hers. He was trying to call her bluff; Levian felt it in her bones. “That sounds perfect,” she replied, handing him his pipe.

Deckland smirked as if he were a cat about to have quite a lot of fun, his gaze drifting along her lips. “For the sake of clarity,” he told her, “you should know I will never take anything from you that you do not openly and freely offer.”

Meaning her kisses, her body, her blood. Levian’s stomach churned again.

When Deckland stepped out of the shadows, she hesitated. Levian’s gaze finally drifted to the floor, where nearly everyone in the room watched Barith and his harem of faeries rolling about on the lush pillow. The dragon lay on his back, the delectably plump and very naked fae princess straddling his chest with her back to him as she stroked his tail with glee. The other two were laying soft kisses and nibbling on any exposed part of him they could reach, their hands everywhere. Her face flamed, and she turned sharply away to follow the vampire.

Her skin burned with anger as Levian focused on the back of Deckland’s head. Barith could put on a show for the whole world for all she cared. What mattered was getting answers and finding her thieves. Besides, she told herself, her heart thrumming, she believed Deckland when he said he wouldn’t do anything she didn’t desire.

She peeked back over her shoulder as the vampire disappeared into a hallway lined with doors around a corner. The dragon had sat up and was openly watching her. The room nearly hummed with lascivious delight at the spectacle—Barith putting on a show while his companion disappeared into the private quarters with a vampire.

Her skin flamed again, her cheeks burning. She ducked into the hall, finding Deckland standing before her with two glasses of fae wine he’d taken from a passing attendant. A chill spread over her when his fingers brushed hers as he handed her a glass. “To indulgence and curiosity,” he offered.

Levian clinked her glass to his before downing the whole thing. “What’s the use of nine lives if you don’t risk a few?” she replied, her heart pounding in her throat as the wine sloshed in her belly.

The vampire smirked, showing off a few of his crooked teeth. “The real question,” Deckland drawled, turning to stroll down the hall, “is how many lives do you have left to spare?”