Nix. (Den of Mercenaries Book 3)(54)

“One last thing, however.”

She watched as he retrieved another case, this one slimmer and more delicate. When he opened it, revealing the gold jewelry inside, she chanced a look up at him, but his expression was unreadable.

It was a necklace, but not like any Luna had ever seen before.

It wasn’t until he was slipping it out of its holding and unscrewing the clasp at the back of it did she realize that the metal didn’t hang freely, but rather wrapped snugly around the column of her throat.

Luna was struck mute as his fingers drifted back around, making a shiver work through her as he gifted her with a dark smile.

“I could tell you that this will work in your favor, that Lawrence Kendall notoriously covets what isn’t his, but that’s not why I want you wearing this.”

She didn’t understand what he meant, not completely. Even so, she asked, “Then why did you want me to have it?”

“Because I wanted there to not be any confusion.”

“As to what?”

“As to who you belong to.” He punctuated the words with a quick, but lingering kiss to her lips.

Oh, but every part of her melted at his words.

It wasn’t too much longer before they were leaving, and before she knew it, they were parked outside the private residence where Lawrence was holding his party.

“Careful,” Kit said with one last squeeze of his hand before she was exiting the car, starting up the pathway to the front entrance.

Luna didn’t notice, not until she was well enough inside and had a very good look at the others in attendance that unlike the vast majority of the people there, her mask was far more elaborate. Most wore little scraps of lace that were more for aesthetic as opposed to concealment as hers was.

It was more like a headdress she thought, with feathers that arced back over her hair.

Lavish parties had always seemed so exciting from the outside looking in, and she didn’t doubt that had she not known the person behind this one, she might have thought it amazing.

The decor was decadent, the wait staff trotting around with trays laden with food. It was almost like stepping into a dream.

Or a nightmare.

Perching on the edge of the bar stool, Luna looked out toward the floor, scanning what little the masks didn’t hide as she tried to find Lawrence in the crowd.

She had almost given up, thinking that he was probably in a back room and would have to wait until he reappeared, when she caught a glimpse of him.

He was hard to miss.

He didn’t come with the sudden recognition that filled her with butterflies—like with Kit—but rather revulsion, her lips turning down into a frown with hated remembrance of him.

It also didn’t take long for him to catch her staring at him, his gaze dropping to the heels she wore, and up to the choker around her neck, but he didn’t bother to venture any higher than that.

But she smiled all the same, playing the part expected of her.

He was already whispering to the guard that stood at his side before she had even bothered angling her body in his direction, passing off his drink as well.

As he started in her direction, Luna swiveled on her bar stool, watching his approach in the reflection of the liquor bottles behind the bar.

Adjusting in her seat, there was something comforting about the feel of the knives strapped to her thigh—another reassurance that tonight wouldn’t end as so many others had.

She could already imagine plunging one into his neck, but timing, Kit had drilled into her head, was everything.

So no matter how ready she was to end Lawrence’s life, she refrained.

It was only moments later that she felt a hand on the small of her back, the unease she felt growing as his hand slid down until it rested along the curve of her hip as he circled around to her front.

The fact that she had yet to forcibly remove his hand from off her was a testament to her newfound control.

“A succubus,” he murmured, looking down the front of her dress, as though he had any right.

Never mind the man was a pig, his arrogance was offensive.

Instinctively, Luna reached up with careful fingers to ensure her mask was still in place, and for the first time, she thought he was actually looking at her face, and not her body.

There was a curious glint in his gaze, like the wheels of his brain were turning, but she needed to ensure they didn’t catch up too fast.

That glint vanished when she smiled, brushing the shorter strands of his brown hair with her fingers.

Then, his gaze dropped right back to her breasts and the way they nearly spilled out the cups of her dress.

Easily distractible.

“And to think I was going to leave early,” Lawrence said with a click of his tongue. “My mistake.”

He lifted a hand, but instead of groping her as she anticipated, he touched a finger to the gold around her neck, pressing the pad of it against one of the sharpened spikes.

“Who do you belong to?”

She remembered Kit’s half-smile as he whispered words that made her want to kneel at his feet. He had known exactly what he was doing when he put it on her.

Unbidden, her gaze searched the floor of the house, hoping to spot … there he was, looking every bit as foreboding as he meant to.

Just the sight of him there was enough ease any worry she had.

Noticing where her stare had gone—though he didn’t seem to recognize Kit—Lawrence stepped in front of her, blocking her view. “Let’s go somewhere a little more private,” he suggested with a gesture of his hand, his smile curling slow and mocking as though he meant to challenge her claim.