Page 40 of Veil of Death and Shadow

When I had the courage to look up again, the strange forest was replaced by an elaborate painting. The same painting that was attached to the wall behind me.

My shoulders sank with relief.

Get it the fuck together, Mars.

I made a goofy face at the me in the mirror, relaxing when she made the same face back. The world had righted itself in my brain again.

My focus latched briefly on the column of my neck. There was a crimson smudge where Lenora’s lips had been.

My body heated when I thought about where else her lips could be right now, if she’d come with me. Where maybe two sets of lips could be—all I had to do was ask.

With a heated smirk at myself, I tossed one of the small ice cubes from the glass into my mouth, then set it down on a tray near the door.

I needed to cool down. To chill the fuck out and go have fun.

A moan echoed from the stall at the far end of the room.

“Fuck, yes, just like that.” The voice cracked into another, louder groan of pleasure.

Heat shot through me. Bathroom stalls weren’t really my style, but fuck I needed a release. Less than half an hour in this place, and my body had done nothing but make me excessivelyaware that I needed to give it some proper attention. Or, rather, have someone else give it some proper attention.

It was officially time to forget the mysterious disappearing dude and get back to Ren and Lenora.

My vibrator was great, but tonight I wanted . . . more.

“Right,” I muttered to myself. “Fun. I can do this.”

I left the bathroom, but instead of turning back to the dance floor, I stopped at a large door, the word ‘basement’ emblazoned on it in an elaborate gold font. A woman—bald, white, and wearing a body-con dress that highlighted her every enviable curve—walked over. Her hand was clasped around a tie, and the tie was attached to a man who had what looked like a trail of blood dribbling down his chin.

Another glance at her, and I noticed she had blood along her neck, seeping from a very obvious, very recent bite.

I pressed my hand against the lipstick kiss on my neck, reassuring myself that it wasn’t also weeping blood.

The woman gave the man a sultry tug, before shooting me a wink and slipping behind the door.

A brief flare of different music and voices filtered into the hall, silencing when the door closed behind them.

Another club?

Curiosity had me reaching for the golden handle, but when I opened it, the door snapped closed again.

“I don’t think you’re supposed to go down there, actually.” The voice was deep, crackling with an Irish lilt. The owner’s breath brushed against the shell of my ear, sending a wave of shivers down my spine.

“Says who?” When I spun around, I found myself caged against the door, a familiar pair of hazel eyes holding mine in their stare. Those eyes were somehow even more mesmerizing than I remembered them being, like my brain couldn’t quiteconcoct their exact shade. It didn’t have the artistry, the shades necessary to get them just right.

“You,” I said, though the word was more a soundless breath than anything with shape.

I’d thought of this man more times than I could count, wondering what had become of him that day. The Undoing and his rescue were tied irrevocably in my brain, and he showed up in my dreams often because of it.

Still, those dreams hadn’t done him justice.

He had more tattoos now than he had a few years ago—or maybe my memory could only hold so much of him. Intricate patterns of ink snaked up his neck, along the arm pressed above my head, where it held the door closed behind me.

His ears were pierced, his pale hair mussed on top but still somehow perfect in the chaos of it.

“Me.” He arched one of his dark brows, the corner of his mouth twitching briefly as he studied me.

“I um—” I swallowed, trying to find strength under the weight of his gaze, remembering earlier—Mrs. Pederson. “Were you at the medical center earlier—in Wallingford?”

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