Page 88 of Body and Soul

Eli shifted, thigh pressing to mine, trembling faintly. I glanced at his wide, fearful eyes in the shadows. My poor little rabbit. I couldn’t traumatize him more after what those cult bastards had done.

I unclenched my fists and turned my gaze back out the window at the skeletal trees clawing at the night sky. I wouldn’t kill anyone. For now. But if anyone dared to put their hands on what was mine, I’d bite them off.

The SUV lurched onto a gravel drive, headlights revealing a looming estate. The house sprawled across the hill like a sleeping beast, sharp angles and dark windows. A twelve-foot stone wall ringed the estate, iron spikes on top. Floodlights snapped on as we approached the wrought-iron gate, and I squinted at two rampant lions welded into the metal. Of course Algerone wouldchoose such a remote location for this meeting, far from prying eyes and ears. If he meant to torture me, he’d be disappointed.

The driver rolled down his window and punched a code into the keypad. The gate swung inward with a metallic groan and we continued up the winding drive. I scanned the night, picking out the glint of security cameras nestled in the trees, their lenses following our progress. The forest pressed close on either side, skeletal branches scraping the SUV's sides. If one needed to dispose of a body, it would be all too easy to drag it into the woods and let the scavengers pick the bones clean.

The drive opened into a large circular courtyard, a marble fountain burbling at its center. The driver parked and killed the engine. I glanced again at Eli, taking in his ashen face and white-knuckled grip on his knees. I wanted to reach over, pull him into my arms, and clutch him against my chest, growling at anyone who came near.

But it was like Annie always used to say. Growling was for inside Keres. When I was on the outside, I had to usemannersandwordsand other useless, civilized things.

Our driver stepped out. I tensed, fingers twitching toward my knife, but he only circled around to open Eli's door, offering a hand.

I snarled at him and batted his hand away, only barely restraining myself from growling, “Mine.”

He glared at me, so I glared back. It wasn’t impolite if he was doing it, too.

The driver escorted us to the foyer, passing beneath an arched stone doorway. The click of our footsteps echoed across the marble floors, the sound swallowed by the sensual trill of string music and the hum of muted conversation drifting from deeper within the mansion.

Masked figures lounged on velvet settees and sprawled across Persian rugs, a twisting mass of bare, sweat-slicked skin under flickering candlelight.

Ah, this was one ofthoseparties. I’d been to a few of them, though they were usually Shepherd’s domain. He liked all that high society bullshit, all the velvet, leather, and steel. I’d take a good old-fashioned naked chase through the woods any day over an orgy on a million dollar sofa. There was always too much prey at an event like the one we’d stepped into. It was like sticking my head down into a den full of sleepy deer.

But Eli was less bored with the orgy unfolding in front of us. He slipped his fingers into mine and squeezed. I turned my head and found the pulse point in his neck throbbing faster.

“Are you afraid, little rabbit?” I whispered into his ear.

He stared up at me with his wide, terrified eyes, lips parted, pulse thumping, looking good enough to devour whole.

I cupped his cheek and bent down. He let out a surprised gasp as my teeth closed tightly over the thrumming pulse in his neck and I sucked. Hard. When I pulled away, there was a freshly blossoming bruise where my mouth had been, a perfect mark of ownership for all to see.

“No one else can touch you,” I ground out. “No one else can have you. Be brave for me a little longer, my little rabbit. Can you do that?”

Eli nodded jerkily.

A severe-looking man in an immaculate black suit materialized from the shadows, his eyes cold and assessing behind an ornate silver mask fashioned after a swan. He carried a sleek tablet and regarded us with a curt nod.

“Monsieur Laskin. We've been expecting you,” he said, his French accent as sharp as the blade of a guillotine. His eyes flicked disapprovingly over our attire and unmasked facesbefore turning on his designer heels. “This way, s'il vous plaît. He’s waiting.”

“So this is how Algerone likes to spend his spare evenings,” I mused as we followed the little man through a corridor with a long red runner over the carpet and paintings of distorted faces on the walls.

The masked man didn’t comment as he led us deeper into the mansion, past writhing bodies and sighs of pleasure. Our guide stopped in front of a set of double doors and pulled them open, holding one for us. “Do not forget you’re being watched, monsieur. Be on your best behavior.”

We stepped through the doors and into a cavernous study with towering bookcases and a massive stone fireplace crackling with flames. Algerone stood in front of an ornate desk with his back to us, a glass of something amber in his hand. He was clad in an impeccably tailored black suit, his dark hair slicked back, and his shoulders tense.

The doors clicked shut behind us. Tense silence settled on the room, the only sound the delicate clink of ice in Algerone’s glass as he lifted it to his lips. “Gentlemen,” he said in the form of a greeting. “Where the hell is my son?”

“Your son?” I arched an eyebrow.

Algerone whirled around, his glass shattering against the desk. Amber liquid and jagged shards sprayed across the polished mahogany. His eyes flashed with barely contained rage. “Don’t play games with me. I know you’ve had a hand in moving Xion somewhere else. You may think you’ve outsmarted me, Doctor Laskin, but I assure you, this is not a game you will win. So, I will ask once more,” Algerone said, biting off each word. “Where. Is. My. Son?”

Ah, so that’s what this was about. And Algerone believed the triplets were his sons? Interesting.

“He’s safe,” I replied coolly. “And he’ll remain there until I have information leading me to the recovery of my sister from the Children of the Light, and assurances that no harm will come to Eli.”

Eli’s eyes widened.

A vein throbbed in Algerone’s temple. “How dare you,” he hissed. “Xion ismine. My blood. My son. You have no right—”

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