Lover Enraptured: Thieves of Aurion, Book 2 (18 page)

“I wasn’t doing anything of the sort.” Jerrick’s jaw remained rigid. “And he’s nowhere in my league. Let’s make that clear.”

“True. He’s actually civil
and
obedient.” Ignoring Jerrick’s growl, she followed the man into a large room tucked in a corner of the main level of the club. Despite the vastness of the space, the illusion of cozy intimacy had been created with the judicial use of dark wood wainscoting and lush fabrics in rich jewel tones. Even the lighting was dim, adding to the welcoming ambiance.

The male stopped beside an unoccupied tufted leather chaise. “Will this suit, Mistress?”

Avily opened her mouth, ready to request a seating arrangement for two, but one glance at the neighboring members quickly sealed her lips. All of the subs sat at their master’s feet.

Close call number two.
Nodding, Avily lowered onto the proffered seat. She waited for Jerrick to balk or scowl at being relegated to the floor, but he only folded his big frame beside her legs and kept his gaze glued to the arched entry leading into the bar.

“Shall I bring you some refreshments, Mistress? A glass of wine and grapes for your sub to feed you?”

“That would be lovely. Thank you…?” She waited for the male to supply his name, but he only cast his gaze to the floor.

“It is unnecessary to thank me, Mistress. I live only to serve you.”

A rumbling sound rolled from Jerrick, and she tugged on his leash again. Fortunately the other male was too busy rushing off to do her bidding to notice. She leaned down and combed her fingers through Jerrick’s hair, using the gesture to hide her not-so-gentle tweak on his ear. He met her glare, his expression saccharine. “Yes, my Mistress?”

“I’m doing my part. Stop being a complete dunderhead.”

“Of course, Mistress. After all, I live only to serve you.”

Where was that damn flogger when she needed it?

A rustling noise broke through her surliness, and she glanced up as a statuesque redhead in a skintight emerald silk gown approached. Avily knew the woman had to be the club’s proprietress, Francesca Dominitri. No one could glide into a room, the picture of grace and power, without the supreme knowledge that she owned the place and everything within it.

Avily automatically rose to her feet, and Jerrick followed suit. The woman swept them with an assessing look and extended her hand to Avily. “Welcome to my club. I’m Mistress Dominitri.”

Wasting no time, Avily introduced herself and Jerrick. Francesca’s beautiful features adopted an almost hard quality as she inspected Jerrick before holding out her hand again, her gaze challenging. Avily sucked in a breath, unsure how Jerrick would respond to the antagonism wafting from Francesca. His posture dutifully submissive, he lowered his head and pressed his lips to the woman’s pale hand.

The tension eased from Avily. “I appreciate your gracious offer to host me and my sub, Mistress. I was just admiring your club’s beautiful scenery.”

“I take that as a compliment.” Francesca’s focus flicked to Jerrick as he straightened. “Particularly since you already have such extraordinary
scenery
to regularly enjoy.” Although there was no denying the appreciation in the woman’s eyes, a definitive note of derision laced her words.

She has something against faes.
If there was one thing Jerrick had taught Avily well, it was how to read people. And the bristling hostility pouring off Mistress Dominitri was unmistakable.

It wasn’t the first time Avi had encountered a human who held no love for the fae. Given the rotten treatment most of her kind received from the native populace of Aurion, it was rather a miracle that there weren’t more card-carrying members of the fae-hater club out there. Still, how much would Francesca’s prejudices hinder this mission?

Francesca stepped aside as the male servant reappeared bearing a tray of refreshments. After depositing the goodies on the small end table, he bowed deferentially at Francesca’s feet, earning an affectionate stroke on his head before she ushered him off. She returned her scrutiny to Avily. “Would you care for a tour of the club? Your sub is free to follow, or you may leave him here.”

Avily didn’t need to look at Jerrick’s face to know he’d kill her if she ordered him to stay behind. Besides, that certainly wouldn’t meet their purposes. “I’ll have him come.”

They left the bar, but instead of venturing into the main anteroom, Francesca led them down a narrow corridor. “We’ll start on the top floor. It’s a favorite amongst the members, and one I’m sure you’ll be anxious to avail yourself of soon.”

Uncertain what to make of that cryptic remark, Avily trailed Francesca to an ornate brass elevator. Once they were all inside, Francesca punched the button that had the 6 beside it. The conveyance rolled upward with a hydraulic hiss, and Avily anxiously watched the slow tick of numbers flashing on the wall. Before she could give herself a minor stroke fretting over what possible strangeness the sixth floor might claim home to, the heavy brass doors slid open and Francesca waved a hand, indicating Avily should vacate the elevator.

Bolstering herself with a fortifying breath, Avily stepped out onto the marbled entry. A cavernous ballroom surrounded her, draped floor to ceiling with burgundy velvet drapes. Couples in various stages of undress packed the space—some slithering their bodies together in erotic and entirely inappropriate dance moves. Others were blatantly screwing.

A shocked noise threatened to blurt from Avily’s throat but was instantly saved from ratting her out by Jerrick’s thigh nudging hers. She snapped her mouth shut just as Francesca turned to face them.

The woman’s close scrutiny disconcerted Avily, until she recalled Jerrick’s assumption that they would be tested. Undoubtedly that had been the motive behind Francesca insisting they start the tour on this floor. Hit the suspicious newcomers with the kinky orgy room right off the bat and see if they’d go racing for the exit.

Well played, scary dominatrix lady. Well played.

“This is the Lust Ballroom. It takes up the entire floor. Or most of it, anyway. There are two supply closets that aren’t remotely interesting.” A wicked twinkle accompanied the dry humor in Francesca’s tone. She guided them deeper into the pit of depravity, blithely chattering away the whole time as if they weren’t penned in on all sides by a sexual smorgasbord of writhing bodies. “I painstakingly researched the history of the mansion and picked out the fabric and furnishings myself. I believe in keeping the authenticity of the period true to the smallest detail. Take for example the Artur’ak chandelier. Cost me an absolute fortune, but worth any price.”

Sidestepping a couple immersed in the throes of rapture, Avily lifted her gaze to the object in question. “It’s a beauty.”

“You can bloody say that again.” There was no mistaking the unabashed coveting in Jerrick’s voice.

It took everything she had not to smack him upside the head. Leave it to him to be surrounded by debauched sex and only have eyes for the priceless artifact. No doubt he was mentally calculating how to scale up there and unbolt the damn thing. Yeah, good luck with strolling out of here with
that
tucked under his jacket.

“You’re familiar with antiques?” It was the first time Francesca had spoken directly to Jerrick, much less without the heavy condescension radiating from her every pore. When Jerrick hesitated, Francesca looked to Avily. “Please tell your sub he’s free to speak to me when I address him.”

Avily suspected the real cause for his delay in replying was due to him fumbling for an answer that didn’t involve grand larceny and black market value, but going along with Francesca’s erroneous theory was infinitely safer than fielding the truth. “You may speak, sub.”

“I have a faint knowledge of them,” Jerrick admitted wryly.

“That chandelier holds greater value than anything I own.” Francesca’s smoky eyes glimmered with calculation. “It must displease you, seeing one of such lowly stature—a human—possessing the grandeur so rightly belonging to your people.” And just like that, the underlying hostility was back with a vengeance.

Jerrick calmly returned Francesca’s cold stare. “Not at all. I believe everyone is entitled to the pleasure of fine things. DNA is inconsequential.”

“Then you are one of the few of your kind to think so.”

He volleyed Francesca’s anger with a smile capable of charming the panties off the strongest willed of women. Avily knew its power all too well. “Well, I am one of a kind,” he said, no trace of modesty in his tone.

“Yes, you are.” Francesca’s considering gaze sharpened and panned between Jerrick and Avily. “Both of you.”

Avily expected the woman to say something more, but Francesca motioned for them to follow her back to the elevator. The moment the conveyance’s doors closed on the spectacle of the Lust Ballroom, Avily mentally exhaled a silent sigh of relief. Her reprieve was short-lived. But instead of more sexual extravagance, she was faced with a new wave of Francesca’s suspicion.

“How is it that you two met? Madam Love failed to supply me with that information.”

Avily racked her brain, trying to latch on to the story that went along with hers and Jerrick’s aliases. Damn it, she’d been ready for this. What the hell happened in the last two minutes to make her forget everything?

The damn orgy ballroom, that’s what. Seeing that many naked bodies in one place was bound to rattle anyone’s brain.

“If my Mistress will allow me?” Jerrick asked softly, cutting through her panic.

Resisting the urge to toss her arms around him and smother his face in grateful kisses, she nodded.

“I was originally a Dom myself. Thought I would be until the day I died. Then one night Mistress Scarlett walked into my club and sent my entire world tilting on its axis.” A husky undercurrent lent a rough edge to Jerrick’s voice. Mesmerized, Avily had no option but to return the intimacy of his stare. He brushed his fingertips over her cheek. “My life changed the second she entered it. In her eyes, I see the person I can only wish to be.”

Emotion welled in her throat…made her eyes sting with the tears she dared not give in to. His words were meant to appease Francesca’s mistrust, but there was also a brutal honesty to them that flavored his speech with bittersweetness.

“So you’re a switch. Interesting. Not many can do it, much less a fae.” Francesca transferred her scrutiny to Avily. “It’s a miraculous thing, you collaring him. I admit to being envious of the skill you obviously must possess as a mistress. We will have to compare notes sometime on our methods.” Francesca rubbed her upper lip absently, the enormous diamond banded to her finger nearly blinding Avily with its gaudy dazzle. “Tomorrow night I’m hosting an intimate gathering for a few of the regulars. I would like you both to come.”

It took a moment to realize Francesca had issued them an open invitation for membership to her club. Feeling like she’d passed the toughest exam in existence, Avily blinked at the other woman. “Thank you. We’d be honored.”

“I assure you the pleasure will be all mine.”

The crafty, devilish curve of Francesca’s smile tripped warning bells in Avily’s head.

Oh gods.
What kind of crazy sex party had she just agreed to? That worrisome thought remained paramount right up until the elevator lurched to a stop. The image of naked bodies and orgies still tumbling through her brain, Avily shuffled through the doors—and collided with the individual striding down the hall.

A hand steadied her.

“Someone needs to lock me up before I hurt someone.” Struggling to straighten her eyeglasses, she grimaced and shot an apologetic glance upward.

Her gaze crashed into Thane’s.

In slow motion, she watched his eyes widen in recognition and shock—no doubt a mirror duplicate of her own expression. He opened his mouth, but it was her assessment of the looming disaster that beat him to the punch line.

“
Oh. Shit
.”

Chapter Seventeen

Bloody. Hell. When he’d warned Avi to be prepared for anything that might be thrown at them, he hadn’t anticipated a colossal clusterfuck like this.

Thinking fast, Jerrick sidled next to Avi. Praying Francesca would take his fierce countenance for protective instinct, he grasped Avi’s shoulder and aimed a hard look at Thane. “Mistress Scarlett, is this man disturbing you? Shall I break his kneecaps?” Hell, it was worth a damn shot.

Thane raised an eyebrow, his lips quirking.

Avily shook from such an excess of nervous tension, Jerrick swore she’d chatter her teeth straight out of her mouth. “N-no. Absolutely not, sub Bill. This man shouldn’t pay the price for my clumsiness.”

“Are you okay?” Francesca demanded, concern etched into her porcelain features.

Avily waved a hand dismissively. Another man strode toward them, nabbing Francesca’s attention with a discreet nod. Excusing herself, she crossed the room and spoke in a low tone with the gentleman.

Taking advantage of their few stolen seconds of privacy, Jerrick dropped his voice to a deadly whisper directed at Thane. “You will pretend to have never met us. Is that clear?”

“Seeing how I don’t relish those broken kneecaps—crystal.”

“Good.”

The soft swish of silk and the exotic essence of moonflower marked Francesca’s approach. “Apologies. My manager sometimes forgets it’s his job to take care of trivial operation matters.” She shifted her focus to Avily. “Please allow me to introduce you to Mr. Thane Pearce. He’s appraising my art collection.”