Page 22 of The Arbiter

Raphael steps out from behind me and assists Felix in pulling the two of them apart, still aiming for the other’s throat. Before I intervene, I stop to consider myself lucky that they haven’t shifted or been using any of their powers. This would be a whole different ball game if they had. Suddenly, Raphael stumbles and almost loses his grip on the Lupin.

“Enough!” I growl, putting some force behind my words.

The two of them stop immediately and look at me curiously, so I tone down the energy begging to put them both in their place. “This is a place of sanctuary. I don’t care what started this, but there will be no more fighting here. You both are banished from ever stepping foot in here again until you can start acting your ages.”

Their spines straighten as Raphael and Felix let them go. Passing by me on the way to the exit, the Lupin spits at my feet as a last ‘fuck you,’ I’m sure, for not taking his side over the Rite’s. My eyes follow them to the door until movement in the corner has me dragging my eyes that way.

Enoch.

He hadn’t offered any kind of assistance in detaining the two of them, but I didn’t really expect him to. His face is furious as he gives them a two-minute head start before walking out behind them. If I had to guess, I’d say that he’s going after the Lupin that spit at me, but maybe that’s just my subconscious hoping. Either way, it’s out of my control, and I’m not their damned babysitters. Once they leave my turf, they’re on their own.

The crew starts trying to clean up the disaster the assholes left in their wake as the customers go back to their business. I feel a few eyes still on me, but none will meet mine as I look around. Since the situation is over, I make my way back upstairs, but I don’t go far. Just in case someone else decides to show their ass.

My forearms are braced on one of the rails that overlook the glass to the second floor as I watch the people below.

“You ok, cher?” Monroe asks as his hand finds the small of my back and slowly works its way up to my shoulder.

I debate my words for half a second before answering him. “As okay as I can be. Just last week, my biggest concern was putting my next order in for alcohol and choosing what outfit I would wear to dance in. This week, I’m the fucking Arbiter, and Damned are being kidnapped, tortured, and killed. Also, two races are fighting in my club for the first time in centuries, and let’s not forget the fact that I’m at war with myself, stuck between a rock and a hard place with two Infernal Lieges and a Rite.”

“Yes, I can see where you’d be frustrated at being lavished in so much attention,” he says, cutting his eyes over to me while trying to hide his smile.

I can’t tell if his smile is him being smug or if he just finds amusement in my predicament. On any other night, I may have enjoyed his good humor, but there’s just too much weighing on my mind tonight.

“Okay, okay,” he backpedals. “Damned are being kidnapped, tortured, and killed, but the best of the best is on the case. We will have answers soon. The fighting is because your extra power has them on edge. The same way that it called to me, it also calls to them, and it brings even the worst out of the woodwork. And yes, Nocturna, you are the Arbiter, and you would do well to never forget that. As for the romances, they will work themselves out in time.”

His words sink into my brain, and I feel a little lighter than before he walked up. “Thanks,” I tell him. “You’re a good one to keep around. Even if it’s only for the pep talks.”

“Oh,ma chérie,” he says, moving to whisper the last part in my ear, “you’ll keep me around for a lot more than that, and you know it.” He nips at my lobe before walking off.

I catch sight of Jamie watching us across the club, and she winks at me before turning back to one of the human customers. Yeah, I’m not talking my way out of that one.

Silk rub against my naked skin as I stretch my body out, my legs tangling in the sheets with the movement. I’m sweating worse than a whore in church, hence the reason why silk sheets make no sense ever. They’re sticking to me like glue. Throwing them off, I reach out for Monroe, thinking this must surely be his doing, but the bed beside me is cold to the touch.

When I crack my eyes open, it’s to find that he is in fact not here with me. More alarming than that, though, I have absolutely no idea where I am. I’m groggy, everything’s hazy, and it feels like I’ve been drugged. It makes me feel dizzy to even think about sitting up, so I try to get a good look around me before I risk it. The walls are a deep burnt charcoal color, and the bed that I’m lying on is a monstrous four-poster with a headboard that looks like it just stepped out of medieval times. It’s black with intricate designs carved into the wood, and the closer I look, the more I can make out tiny faces that look like they’re screaming in pure agony.

A door opens across the room, and I startle. As fast as I can through the cloudiness swimming in my head, I slide off the bed. I didn’t put much thought process into this because here I stand, stark naked and defenseless against whatever decides to walk through that door. The swish-swish of material on the floor hits my ears before I see it, a black robed figure that seems to glide in without much walking involved. The robe is so dark that if they were to stand against the wall, I doubt I’d be able to find them again.

“Hello,” I try to say, only to find that my voice doesn’t work. I put my hand to my throat, but the robed figure ignores me as it makes its way over to an old wardrobe. It pulls out a dress that is such a vivid red that it makes my eyes hurt after waking up to so much darkness.

It swishes its way over to me and holds out the dress, careful as if not to expose any of themselves. When I reach for the material, I try to trick the robe into showing a little of what’s underneath, but the figure abruptly jerks back and immediately leaves the room.

Laying the dress on the bed, I wobbly walk over to the wardrobe. Not that I don’t appreciate the gesture of clothing, but I’d be much more comfortable in just jeans and a t-shirt. Especially since I don’t know where I am and making a getaway in a dress like that would be next to impossible. Unfortunately, I find the wardrobe empty.How weird for it to hold only one dress.I look around, but my first observation was accurate. There’s nothing else in here.Well, shit.

Shuffling back over to the bed, I pick the dress up and pull it up my legs. The lace hugs tight to my torso and arms and is definitely see through. As I turn, the bottom half of the dress spins with me, looking as though it’s made of black fire. Before I can do anything more, the door opens again.

One of the most beautiful men that I have ever seen in my life stalks inside. His stride is predatory, and it makes me feel like a gazelle caught in a lion’s den.

“So glad to see that you’re awake, my queen,” he says with a voice so sultry that it would have even the straightest of men questioning their sexuality. My brain tries to catch up with what’s going on, but there’s still a haze that I can’t seem to shake.

When he reaches out to me and says, “Come. I have much to show you,” my hand extends as if it can’t disobey him. He pulls it to the crook of his elbow before walking us out into a long hallway where the walls around me flicker almost like coal in the bottom of a firepit. It’s making it really hard to stay focused, especially with the cloud still covering my brain.

Who is this man? Where am I? Why do I feel like I must obey his every word? Why is my body betraying me when all I want to do is go home?These questions filter through my frazzled brain as we walk.

Thankfully, the walk is short, and we only take one flight of stairs up to a higher level before he leads me through another door. This one takes us out onto the roof of the building that we’re in. The expanse of the roof is at least two football fields long and breathtaking enough by itself. A red sun beats down on our heads from above. As I glance up, I have to squint from the brightness to see black clouds covering the sky. Damp sweat covers my body and makes the lace of the dress stick to my skin.

The beautiful stranger walks us over to a balcony that hangs over the side of the house. Black wrought iron daggers point toward the sky around the edges.

He pulls me to a stop right in the middle of the platform, and nothing is said while I take in our surroundings. There’s a giant wall about half a mile away from us on the ground. It stands as tall as our building, but it’s lit up with a dark red color underneath an obsidian-looking stone. The wall forms a complete circle around us with five points that stick out. Nightlock grows up the side, making it look even deadlier. Past the wall, there’s a moat filled with what seems to be nothing more than black fire.

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