Doppelganger Dirge: A Musical Paranormal Reverse Harem Romance (Spellsinger Book 11) Page 6

  “Slate!” I snapped as I stroked Banning's face and tried to coax his stare back to me.

  “I'm going. I'm going.” My Gargoyle boyfriend unlocked the door and headed downstairs, thankfully shutting the door behind him.

  Banning settled back into his rhythm and calmed. Well, not exactly calmed, but his eyes lost their killer glint. Once Slate was gone, Banning set his face back into the curve of my neck. His tongue lapped at me there, licking me clean. His mouth was warm now, hot even, and that heat had spread through his body. I drew my fingers across his bulging bicep, tracing the Blooder tattoos, their ink glistening with sweat, and luxuriated in the feel and savage look of him.

  With a low growl, Banning rocked his hips, building up the rhythm we'd had before we were interrupted. With every thrust, he also ground his pelvis against me, giving me that beautiful friction right where I needed it. Within minutes, Bann was groaning through his release, and I was shivering through a bonus mini one. We crumpled into an embrace and panted through the aftershocks together.

  “Better?” I asked Bann softly as I cradled his head to my chest.

  Banning lifted his head and stared at me with heavy-lidded eyes. “Much.”

  My husband licked his lips and looked possessively at my throat. His bite would be healed by now, but that didn't matter. He knew I'd given him my blood—an exchange which, when performed between lovers, was considered by Blooders to be the greatest act of intimacy and trust—and that was enough for him.

  “Good. Because we should probably get downstairs before Slate tells everyone why he was kicked out of the bedroom,” I said softly.

  Banning chuckled as he rolled to the side. “I think that bloody boat has sailed, sweetheart.”

  I slid out of bed and collected my clothing. “Slate isn't that crass but if they keep pushing him, he might say something I'll regret.”

  I hurried into my clothes, smoothed my hair, and headed downstairs.

  “Oh, thank goodness,” I muttered when I entered the living room.

  My parents were gone, doubtless to their guest tower. Only my men were there, having drinks while they waited for me.

  “Worried about your sweet mother hearing you scream like a porn star?” Declan asked with a smirk.

  “No, I was worried about Slate having to come up with an excuse for coming down here without me.”

  “The scream was more condemning,” Torin said. “Luckily, your parents had already retired for the evening.”

  “And we got to enjoy it without any of us being embarrassed.” Declan winked at me.

  “That was my fault,” Banning said smugly as he exited the stairwell behind me. He glanced at me and added, “I did warn you.”

  “Smother me next time,” I muttered.

  “Don't you dare!” Declan cried.

  “Please.” Banning rolled his eyes. “As if I'd ever do that to her.”

  “You've got a little blood on your face,” Gage noted dryly as he motioned toward his cheek.

  Banning wiped his face, looked at the bloody residue on his fingers, and licked it.

  All of the other men made disgusted noises.

  “Gross,” Gage complained.

  “You've all seen me drink before,” Banning huffed as he went to the bar to pour himself a different kind of drink. “Don't go all schoolgirl on my now.”

  “Yes, but what you just did was akin to wiping a smear of gravy off your chin and licking it,” Declan pointed out. “It's simply not done. Uncouth.”

  “I was raised to be a soldier.” Banning shrugged unrepentantly.

  “And then taught to be a prince,” Declan countered.

  “By a Blooder psychopath,” Banning shot back.

  Declan grimaced. “Yes, well, there is that.”

  “Is everything okay at the Zone?” I asked Slate.

  “Yes, why?”

  “Just wondering why you showed up.”

  “I heard the fear in your voice.” Slate stepped over to me and slid a hand around the back of my neck to massage me casually. He frowned when he felt my rock-hard muscles. “Are you all right, sweetheart?”

  “Poseidon scared her,” Banning blurted in his uncouth way.

  “Banning!” I glared at him.

  “What?” He blinked at me. “As if you weren't going to tell them.”

  “He scared you?” Darc asked in surprise. “My fire, you are far more powerful than any Greek god.”

  “False god,” I corrected, using Banning's terminology.

  “Oh, I like that,” Declan noted. “It's so... fire and brimstone.”

  “Banning came up with it,” I gave credit where it was due.

  “Whatever you wish to call him, Poseidon shouldn't frighten you,” Darc insisted. “Especially with all of us supporting you.”

  And us, Kyanite added.

  I know, Ky, and I appreciate it, but Poseidon is the wicked thing isn't he?

  Totally, RS agreed. Old dude was weird. His eyes were all woo-woo.

  What does that even mean? Kyanite huffed.

  Kyanite! I growled.

  Yes, I believe he is the wicked one of the prophecy, Kyanite confirmed. It would be quite a coincidence if there were another person rising to commit evil deeds who also happened to be after you.

  My stomach went cold.

  Hey, it's good to know who our enemy is, RS pointed out.

  He's my grandfather!

  Great-grandfather but whatever, she pouted.

  I call him that to make it easier—never mind that. He's family. I can't think of him as my enemy.

  Perhaps you should try, my love, Kyanite said grimly.

  “Poseidon's goals are rather disturbing,” Gage continued the conversation that was going on outside of my head, and I refocused on it as I tried to melt the ice in my belly.

  “But that's not what scared her,” Banning protested. “Is it, Elaria? You never did tell me exactly what frightened you, but I'm pretty sure it isn't plans that haven't been enacted yet.”

  Tell them, Kyanite urged.

  “Poseidon is the wicked thing rising,” I confessed. “I felt it when I looked in his eyes. He's what Onyx and Kyanite warned us about.”

  “I suspected as much.” Torin nodded. “If Poseidon really has lost his senses, that alone is dangerous. A madman with the power of a... what did you call him? A false god?”

  “That's right.” Banning grinned.

  “A madman with the power of a false god is bad enough,” Torin went on. “But one with aspirations to rule the world? That is chilling.”

  “He is someone to be wary of but not someone to be afraid of,” Declan protested. He looked at me and vowed, “We will deal with this, my love. We have faced far worse.”

  “I need some rest. Maybe I'll see things clearer in the morning,” I announced as exhaustion suddenly hit me.

  Fear tends to steal my strength. Or maybe I just wanted to curl up beneath the covers and pretend that my grandpa wasn't going batshit crazy and coming after our family.

  The men kissed me goodnight then started heading toward their towers while I trudged upstairs. Slate followed me.

  “Where do you think you're going, Gargoyle?” I asked him with a lifted brow.

  “With you,” he said firmly. “Everyone else has had some time with you today. Don't I at least deserve to sleep beside you? I came all this way after all.”

  “You used a traveling stone that brought you here in seconds,” I countered.

  Slate pouted and on his stern, angular face—a face that appropriately looked as if it had been chiseled out of rock—it looked adorable.

  “All right, but we're not having sex. I still have to shower.”

  “We can shower together,” Slate offered eagerly. “It will save time. And water. Water is life, we should do our part to conserve it.”

  “I said we're not having sex.” I tried not to grin at his antics.

  “I didn't mention sex.”

  “You, me, and hot water fa
lling over our naked bodies?” I asked skeptically. “How will that not lead to sex?”

  “Well, now you've done it. Your naughty talk has got the gargoyle riled up,” Slate exclaimed with false regret. He scooped me up and ran the rest of the way upstairs. “This is on you, sweetheart.”

  I giggled all the way to the bathroom. Then I started to moan. Damn that sexy, smooth-talking gargoyle.

  Chapter Ten

  Darcraxis and I were in the middle of a meeting with our castle steward, William, when Raphael walked in. William took one look at Raphael's face and shut his ledger book with a low thud and a beleaguered expression.

  “I'll leave you to it, Your Majesties,” William said as he stood.

  “Thank you, William.” I didn't even try to deny that Raph's visit was more important than the castle accounts.

  “There's been another attack,” Raphael announced grimly as William stepped past him.

  “Another attack or another murder?” Darc asked as we both stood.

  “Attack,” Raphael repeated. “The assassin had to break in to make her attempt. She was not successful.”

  “Her?” I asked in surprise. “It was a woman?”

  “A female, yes,” he said curtly.

  I lifted my brows at that. Interesting clarification.

  “Have you been able to get anything out of her?” Darc asked eagerly.

  Raphael grimaced.

  “No,” I whispered. “They didn't.”

  “The angels on duty had no choice,” Raph said defensively. “She wouldn't surrender.”

  Ah, that was why he'd referred to her as female. It was Raph's way of reminding himself that he killed a warrior, not an innocent woman.

  “You killed the only person who could tell us who's after my wife?” Darcraxis asked in a deadly tone.

  As I may have mentioned, Darc keeps his cool except in matters of my safety. If this had been about anything else, he would have calmly questioned Raph and then told him exactly where he'd fucked up. But this was about me and that meant my husband was seconds away from losing his godly mind and going biblical on the angel.

  “Darc.” I laid my hand on his bicep, it was tense with fury. Yep; the D-bomb was seconds away from detonating. “I'm sure they tried to apprehend her. They had to defend themselves first.”

  “We wanted the assassin alive. Of course, we did,” Raphael said. “But she's not and there's nothing that can change that. So, would you like to see the body?”

  “Yes.” I started for the door.

  Darc grabbed me. “I will go. You stay here, my fire.”

  I stared at him. For a second, he sounded a little like Lucifer. My fire. My vicious. Luke had started by calling me his dearest. Was that a god thing or just an alpha male thing? Darc frowned at my strange look. Right; the assassin. Damn it all, why was I so distracted? My mind kept turning to things it shouldn't be focusing on.

  Because your great-grandpappy Poseidon is about to conquer the Beneath, RS reminded me.

  Will you please keep your beak shut? Kyanite snapped at her.

  Nope.

  You only stress her more when you say things like that.

  She can take it. She's a tough-as-nails spellsinger. You should have more confidence in her.

  Just because she can take it doesn't mean you should torture her.

  I ignored them both.

  “I think Elaria needs to see this,” Raph said cryptically. He looked back and forth between Darc and me. “Get your other boys to be bodyguards if it'll make you feel better.”

  “My other men have gone back to their homes and kingdoms,” I said pointedly as I went to an intercom on the wall. “All except for Gage.” I hit the button. “Gage?”

  After a few seconds, my griffin's voice came through the speaker, “What's up, my sexy spellsinger?”

  “There was another attack on a lookalike. They killed the assassin and we're going with Raph to see the body,” I said. “Do you want to join us?”

  “To see a dead assassin? Sure, sounds like fun. Be down in five.”

  “We can meet him at the elevator,” I suggested.

  “I'll have to take you myself,” Raphael reminded me. “You've never been to Elise's home.”

  I paused. “How well do you know this Elise? I assume she's the lookalike.”

  “Yes. I know—and knew—all of Lucifer's... the... uh, them fairly well.” Raphael swallowed roughly. “It was hard not to... well, not to treat them like you when they were wearing your face. It's been strange, to say the least.”

  “I'm sorry, Raph. I didn't think about how this might affect you.”

  “You are the last person who should apologize to me over this,” he protested. “And they're not you; that's what's important. I'm sorry about the three who were killed, but I'm glad it was them instead of you, El.”

  “Thank you,” I said softly.

  Raph cleared his throat. “So?”

  “Right,” I murmured and looked at Darc. “I suppose you're going to want to go first?”

  “You suppose correctly.” Darc stepped forward and threw an arm over Raphael's shoulder as if they were buddies at a barbecue. “Let's go, Angel.” He gave Raphael a look that said he wasn't too pleased with our conversation.

  Raphael extended his wings and did his Angel thing, taking my husband through the Veil. It looked a little strange, what with Darc dwarfing Raph in both height and girth, but at least they weren't embracing. That would have been awkward for all of us.

  Seconds later, Raphael returned and held out his arms to me. We had history, and not just as lovers, but Raphael and I had settled into a friendship that finally felt comfortable. I hoped that Lucifer and I would get there someday, but judging from his behavior the day before, it would probably take awhile longer than it had with Raphael.

  Raph eased me in against his chest, and I closed my eyes to the halo that surrounded us as his wings extended. We rose into the air and kept going through the Veil. Magic bubbled over my skin like spilled champagne as we zipped through the barrier between the Realms then the warmth of Earth chased the chill away. I stepped out of Raphael's arms and into a demolished living room.

  “I'll go get Gage.” Raphael flew off to fetch my griffin.

  “Dear Gods,” I murmured as I stepped over bits of wood, glass, and plaster. “It's like a bomb went off.”

  Elise lived in a modestly-sized house. Which was a good thing. If she'd been in an apartment, the Police would have been called, and we'd have humans to deal with. I couldn't see outside—they'd boarded up the windows to prevent the assassin from using a rifle—but I assumed that the house was far enough away from the neighbors as to not cause concern when the fighting started. Because it had been a doozie.

  The couch was badly singed but that was the extent of its damage. Which made it the only inanimate thing in the room to have survived the attack in one piece. The other furniture was smashed to bits or burned beyond recognition. The walls were blackened with soot and—oddly enough—there were also puddles everywhere. Perhaps they'd hosed the place down to put out the fires.

  Angels didn't just receive wings from their god, they also got a small dose of his light magic. But their light was closer to fire than Lucifer's. In fact, there used to be a whole group of Angels called the Seraphim who had burning wings—that had to get annoying—and were considered to be the most powerful of the Host. The walking-fire-hazards had even led the Host until Lucifer was freed and killed them all. But I digress. My point was; the fire had likely come from the guardian angels and not the assassin. I did a quick glance at the people standing around me and noted that none of them looked like me. Good, Elise wasn't in the room. I had no desire to face another doppelganger, especially not a living one.

  I minced my way over the wreckage to Darc. He stood over a corpse with a couple of angels, every face solemn and every eye focused downward. More angels stood around the room at attention, their swords put away and their hands clasped behind their bac
ks. They nodded politely to me as I passed. Then I saw the body and the puddles suddenly made sense.

  “She's a Triton!” I exclaimed.

  “That's why I wanted you to see her,” Raphael's voice came from behind me.

  I glanced over my shoulder to see Raph and Gage picking their way over the debris toward us.