Page 71 of Tortured Royals

The guard’s glide past us, exiting the back door.

“You sure I can’t go into my beast form, and simply crash the party?”Nate asks.

“I told you, I want to catch Ivar in the act of trying to poison the leaders,”I reply.

“Right. Well, if you change your mind, you let me know,”Nate says.

With the guards gone, the hallway is empty, and we move toward a kitchen bursting with activity. I peer through the open door, where a group of servers are gathering on the left side of the room.“We can’t just walk in there.”

“Wait,”Nate says.“I hear voices. In here.”We move further up the hallway, and Nate tugs us into what looks like a break room. A group of demons finish dressing, and going by their neatly pressed black and white button up outfits, they’re clearly servers here for the party.

“Make sure you don’t spill a drop,” one of the servers says to the others. “Ivar’s made it clear sloppy service will not be tolerated tonight.”

“W-what will happen if we do?” One of the younger-looking servers asks.

The demon who had originally spoken, pins the demon with a stare. “You’d rather not find out,” he warns.

The other demon gulps.

“There are six of them,”Prince Callan points out.“We only need five seeing as Dante’s invisible.”

“Then we’ll just have to hope no one notices there’s a missing server,”I say.

One of the demons stands, impatiently tapping his foot. “We’d better hurry. It’ll be time to serve the starters shortly, and Ivar doesn’t take kindly to tardiness, either.”

“Luckily you won’t have to worry about that now, will ya buddy?”Nate says, though of course, the server can’t hear him.

My shifter mate breaks from our group, winking into sight, and the rest of us follow his lead. Within seconds, the demon servers are all unconscious, and Alaric and Mason are dragging them behind the cover of a table.

We undress the demons quickly, pulling on the uniforms. I’m busy buttoning up my shirt when Alaric steps up behind me, his hand going to my waist. “When the time comes, I need to know you won’t stop me from killing Ivar,” he growls in my ear. His hot breath makes my skin prickle, and I lean back, closing the last bit of distance between us and pressing against him. My body flushes with heat, and he groans as I rub against him, his hand tightening on my waist. “Say it,Enchantress,” he rumbles.

“As long as we get the information we need out of him, he’s all yours,” I agree, my breaths coming in short rasps. “I hope you make him hurt for what he did to your brother.”

Like it’s all he needed to hear, he growls, gripping my chin and turning my head to the side. His lips slam to mine, and the kiss is hot, heavy, and desperate. Before either of us can get carried away, he breaks the kiss. His nostrils flare, and he keeps his lips a hairsbreadth from mine. “Oh, my mate. How had I ever denied that you were mine?”

My lips quirk up. I’m pretty sure it’s a rhetorical question, but I answer anyway. “That’s easy. You were delusional.”

He chuckles and breathes me in before pressing another kiss to my lips.

“As much as we’d all like a taste of our mate right now, you should all move,”Dante’s voice sounds in my head.“A few more servers just headed to the kitchen, and you don’t want to be late.”

Alaric’s tongue swipes across mine one last time, and he finally pulls back again, releasing me.

I blink rapidly, a little dazed, but when everyone goes for the door, I move with them.

“It’s all clear,”Dante tells us, and we file into the hallway, forming orderly lines and heading for the kitchen.

The moment we’re through the swinging doors, I spot the large group of servers gathered to one side of the room. We try to act natural as we move to stand at the back. A few of the other servers glance our way, but thankfully, no one says anything.

It’s a short while later when a demon in a white chef’s uniform walks over and stands before our group.

“Look at his hip,”Alaric says in my head, and my gaze lowers to where a familiar-looking leather pouch is tied there.

“Shit. He already has the poison,”Nate comments.

The chef purses his lips, staring at us with disdain like we’ve all just stolen from his cookie jar. His eyes travel over me and the others, but he doesn’t even blink.

“Right,” he says sternly, pacing in front of us with his hands clasped behind his back. “Everyone here should know how this goes. We serve all meals within the short periods of time allotted. Anyone who hasn’t delivered their plates on time and completely intact will be severely punished. Not a single drop should be spilled, and not a garnish displaced.” He stops pacing and stares us down. “There are six courses, and each one is as delicate as the one before. Don’t fuck it up.” He turns his head to where numerous plates are all lined up on a long stone bench. “First course!” he bellows.

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