Page 17 of Bottoms Up
Kirsten turned to Jupiter. “I think we’re all here?”
Jupiter nodded and stepped forward. “You’ve made your demands. We’ve reviewed them. Here is our counteroffer.”
Xaephan’s mouth curled, no longer his habitual smirk. “Imagine my surprise,” he said, voice velvet and smoke, his Cajun drawl caressing every syllable. “I was promised a negotiation. Instead, I find a tribunal.”
“No one promised you anything,” Jupiter said, voice and expression flat.
The Prince of Hell chuckled, already half-reclined on his conjured throne. “Well, I did say it would be fun.”
Kirsten shifted forward without moving closer to him. “We have terms.”
Xaephan’s gaze raked her slowly — not lewd, but invasive,appraising— like his eyes could strip her down and catalog her weaknesses. “You and I can discuss terms anytime you like, Chère.” His attention slid to Nathan. “Still letting others speak for you?”
“Still using lust as a deflection?” Nathan replied. Calm. Icy. Arctic. “Try again.”
Xaephan’s smile didn’t shift, but the fire behind his eyes flared. “I’m here for my son.”
“Your son —,” Nathan paused as if to regroup, glanced at Kirsten, and back to Xaephan. “Killian remains where he is.”
“That,” Xaephan snapped, “was not the agreement.”
“There was no agreement other than a time and place to meet, and an agenda,” said Jupiter. “Your son tried tokill someone protected by no fewer than seven sovereigns — includingyou.”
“He was manipulated.”
Jupiter lifted his brows. “He’s lucky to be alive after so many attempts on Kirsten’s life.”
“I can contain him,” Xaephan bit out. “It won’t happen again.”
“Shesurvivedhim,” Kirsten said softly. “He’s only alive because…” She shook her head and trailed off.
Xaephan started to respond, but the Prince of Darkness raised a hand, lazy and theatrical. “Enough. You want your son, they want Silver left alone. The torc is presumed dead, and even if it wasn’t, they wouldn’t hand it over.”
“To be precise,” Nathan said, “the coin is now a torc without sentience, no longer in play, and Silver is off-limits for the next one hundred and forty-four years unless she initiates contact.”
Power rippled off Xaephan like a heatwave. The air shimmered, threatening combustion. “Return Killian to me, and hand over Freya’s necklace in whatever form you’ve bastardized it into.”
“That portion of Freya’s necklace is dead,” said Jupiter, echoing Nathan from earlier.
“I don’t believe you.”
“You don’t have to,” Jupiter said coolly. “You aren’t getting it whether you believe me or not.”
“Or Silver,” Nathan added. “That door is closed.”
Xaephan turned to him slowly, no longer smiling. His voice dropped, thick and lethal. “Silver is destined to be mine. It’s only a matter of time.”
“She never was.”
“And what is she to you, Lion King?”
“Protected.” His voice dropped, cold and final. A single eyebrow lifted. “And untouchable.”
Silence stretched.
The Prince leaned forward. “Let’s talk trade.”
Xaephan didn’t look away from Nathan. “I’m listening.”
