Kiss at Your Own Risk (18 page)

Angelica was in full panic mode by the time she skidded around the corner and finally found the entrance to the Hotel of Love and Healing. She was definitely going to have to start periodically reviewing her maps to make sure she knew how to get to all areas of her kingdom, even if she never thought she’d need to get there.

It wasn’t like she was going to go visit the warriors who were recovering. She knew seeing her face wasn’t going to help their healing. And yes, it bothered her that they didn’t feel her love, but whatever. She wasn’t doing it for them. She was doing it for her girls.

She charged up the steps, completely impressed at how well she was running in her stilettos. Her agility with the spikes might be her naturally exceptional balance and athletic ability. But it might also have something to do with the fact that she was pretty close to a complete mental implosion thanks to a visit from the certain oversexed underperformer who had deflowered her.

No telling how long he’d wait before he figured out that her trip to the bathroom to freshen up for some lovemaking had been a complete lie to cover up her frantic dash to get help.

She threw open the door of the Hotel, and then skidded to a stop, shielding her eyes against the suddenly blinding light. By all that was unwelcoming and soulsucking, where was she?

She backpedaled quickly, checked the sign by the door. Hotel of Love and Healing. Right place. But where were the dank stone walls? The mind-numbing dripping water in the corner? The metal bunks without any blankets, and the overly permeating scent of mold and decay? Gone was the dungeon-like atmosphere she’d paid a fortune to an architect to design and even more to a builder to construct (it was before the days where her magic skill could have adequately created the doom, depression, and sense of hopelessness that the Hotel had to have in order to motivate the men to recover and get back to their canopy beds and flower comforters). Like utterly vamoose.

Heavy plaid curtains decorated the windows that didn’t (shouldn’t) exist. King-sized beds with navy quilts lined the circumference of the vast room. Beautiful mahogany desks were beside each bed, and a massive flat screen television was artfully mounted on the dark wood footboard of every bed. All the patients were wearing the bottoms only of dark and masculine pajamas, and a couple just had boxers on. And none of them were leopard print!

There was a bar at the end of the room, and one of her girls was pouring beer into a beautiful stein Angelica recognized as coming from her own kitchen. The sound of rap music was beating through the speakers, and it didn’t quite mask the sound of tweeting whistles and the thud of football players tackling each other coming from the televisions. Another tweet, and then a collective groan went through the room, and one of the warriors swore. “Throw another damned interception, why don’t you?”

Angelica set her hands on her hips. “What is this? I—”

“Burgers are ready!”

Angelica turned around. A commercial-sized barbecue grill was built into the wall and one of her girls was hoisting a tray filled with burgers that smelled absolutely fantastic. Angelica never bothered to eat, because magic could give her all the nourishment she needed, but hello? How good did those look? “I’ll take one.”

She snatched a burger off the tray. The girl holding them saw Angelica, and her face went sheet white. The music suddenly shut off, chatter stopped, and the only sound in the room was the thud of football players crashing into each other.

She took a big bite—Sweet Juicy Decadence! She was so starting to eat again—and then faced the room.

Ten guilty female faces and fifteen warriors had gone utterly still. Three of the men were on their feet, looking all too spry, and the others were still in their beds. But alert. Ready. Tense.

Little children caught with their hands in the cookie jar.

It reminded her of the day she’d walked into the basement and found Prentiss with his stack of girlie magazines when he was nine. His look of utter horror, and that possessiveness as he slid them behind his back and jutted his jaw out, daring her to steal them. His cheeks had been flaming red, and he hadn’t been able to look her in the eye.

It had been so cute that she’d just let him keep them.

Maybe that was why he’d become such a womanizing letch. Maybe if she’d done her job three hundred years ago, Prentiss would be wearing white and hauling souls up to heaven, instead of having a monopoly on all things decadent, irreverent, misogynistic, and utterly deplorable.

“This was my idea.” Mari stepped forward. Her face was pale, and her voice was quavering. But her hands were fisted. “Our death rate has gone down seventy-three percent since we redecorated.”

Angelica folded her arms over her chest. Dear Goddess of Sexual Stimulation and Lust, the number of things wrong with this scenario were mind-boggling. But she was really liking Mari’s attitude. Her willingness to stand up and to save lives. That was what she’d come looking for tonight. “Come with me, my dear.”

No one else in the room moved, and Angelica had to keep from biting her lip at the look of fear on everyone’s faces. How delightful to feel like such a tyrant. So good for the ego, especially mere minutes after being reduced to a quivering ball of subservience by an overgrown lout. She beamed at them. “Thank you all. I appreciate it.”

None of them reacted. Too terrified.

On a regular day, she’d feel a little bit regretful that her relationship had to be one of domination and cruelty when she loved them so much, but right now, she needed an ego boost as much as Blaine needed cross-stitching. And that was saying a lot.

“I’m staying here.” Mari grasped a nearby headboard. “I’m taking care of Christian. He needs me.”

“Oh, for heaven’s sake!” Angelica strode across the room, nearly giggling as everyone scrambled out of her way. Let them worry. Yes, they were going to have to learn that going mutiny and making their own decisions didn’t benefit them. But right now, there was an orgasm overlord hot on her tail and she didn’t have time to deal with bad little children.

Her smile faded as she reached the bed and peered down at Christian. His eyes were closed, hollowed into his face like someone had sunk a hole-in-one into his eye socket. His face was the color of old cement, and scraps of metal were flaking off him. His skin was glittering, as if he’d tried to shift and gotten stuck. His lips were parted, and his chest was barely moving. And there was a weird purplish stain beneath the skin on his stomach, as if his blood had ditched the restraint of veins and was going on a cross-country jaunt. She frowned. “If he dies before the boys get back, I’ll lose my leverage on Blaine.”

Christian stirred, and his eyes slitted open. The corner of his mouth curved up.

Angelica blinked. “You’re
trying
to die so Blaine doesn’t give up his freedom for you?” As orgasms were her witness, she just didn’t know how she had gone wrong here. She’d assumed Blaine’s loyalty would get him back to save Christian, but that was Blaine. He had a thing about leaving people behind, and she’d planned to take full advantage of it.

Christian, on the other hand? Not part of her plan! She’d made sure Blaine had tortured Christian repeatedly. How could Christian possibly have any loyalty to the other man?

Christian closed his eyes again, and Mari squatted beside him and took his hand. “See? He needs me. He needs a will to live.”

Angelica sighed as she saw the shimmering in Mari’s eyes. “Oh, lordy, lordy. You’ve gone and fallen in love with him, haven’t you?”

“No!” Mari’s denial was too quick, too panicky. “Of course not!”

“Mari.” Angelica gestured at Christian. “Look at him. He’s killing himself to save his friend. His boys are more important to him than staying alive for you. Don’t you see? He’s already making the choices that will break your heart. He’s not worthy of your love yet.”

“I admire Christian’s loyalty.” Mari sat next to him and stroked his forehead. “And of course he’s mad at me. You made me betray him—”

“No.” Angelica grabbed Mari’s shoulders and yanked her to her feet. “You made the choice to call me when he was escaping. How many times have I told you that it disempowers you to claim you didn’t have a choice! You always have a choice! We always do!”

“Not the men you torture! What choice do they have?”

Angelica gestured at the room full of beds. “They can choose to live or die. They make that decision every day.”

Mari snorted. “That’s not a choice.”

“It is.” Angelica suddenly became aware of the silence of the room. Even the football games were off now, and everyone was watching them. She swore under her breath. None of the men needed to see her talking to her girls as if they were people. She made sure never to come across as empathetic or soft. A man could sense a weakness in a female faster than a dragon could burn up a stack of newspapers on a windy day. She grabbed Mari’s elbow. “Come on.”

“But—”

Oh for the love of overly muscled pectorals! “Your only chance to save Christian is to come with me.” Total lie, but whatever. It was all for the good of her prize girl, and if she had to lie to help her, well, then she’d make up stories until there were no truths left to tell.

And it was also to save her own kingdom, which, ultimately, saved the girls, so self-preservation was a good enough reason to fabricate as well.

She snapped her fingers at burger girl. “Christian doesn’t have my permission to die, so keep him alive even if you have to torture other men to do it. Got it?” She saw Christian’s body flinch, and she smiled. “Well, Chrissy, if you’re going to be such a martyr for the sake of others, you’re going to have to decide who you value more: dying to save Blaine, or staying alive to save all the other warriors stuck here with you.” She waved her hand. “All of you, girls and boys, are hereby granted the gift of staying here until I release you. Your only job is to keep my main boy alive, whatever that takes.” She rolled her eyes. “And if it takes football in addition to torture, then it takes football.”

She felt like the room had suddenly gone bug-eyed.

Hello? Did they not realize that she was a flexible, loving mama who was always willing to shift her modus operandi for the good of her peeps? Sometimes she just got so tired of being considered a mindless, ruthless autocrat. “I’ll be back soon, my darlings. Have fun.”

She shoved Mari toward the front door, then paused to peer outside.

The yellow brick road was empty. No Napoleon yet. Excellent. She’d clearly done a great job convincing him that the new sexual dynamo she’d become needed time to get it all together. She’d told him it required forty-five minutes for the edible glitter to adhere to her nipples, and she was so sure he’d believed it.

Napoleon was a raging hormone. He’d be willing to wait quite a while for the best sex ever, which is what he had somehow deduced he was going to get from her…

Oh… wow… sex with Nappy… it had been good enough back then, but now? Knowing what she knew about her own body and the male trigger points? It would be some kind of night—

“Angelica? Your cheeks are flushed.”

She cleared her throat. Yeah, sex with Nappy would be some kind of night indeed. It would be the kind that stripped her of all the independence and self-supporting ego she’d worked so hard to create. No thank you.

“Here’s the deal, my love.” She hurried Mari down a woodsy path lined with pink rhododendrons. “We’ve got a situation.”

“What does this have to do with Christian?”

Oh, sweet lily of the valley, was she really going to tell the truth to one of her girls? She’d been such a beacon of independence, such a model for the girls. Would it destroy Mari forever if her mentor admitted she needed help? If she acknowledged she wasn’t perfect? Angelica reached the clearing and sat Mari down on the white marble Bench of Peace and Introspection.

Mari frowned. “What’s going on?”

Angelica swallowed, her throat suddenly tight. “I—” Oh, for the love of flavored condoms, spit it out! “My black magic doesn’t come without a price. I’ve taken all your smut and mine and everyone else’s and I’ve diverted it to a resource I call Smutty.”

Mari’s eyes widened. “You said it wasn’t black magic!”

“No, I never actually denied it. You just heard what you wanted to hear.”

“But—”

“That was a good tactic for you, my dear. There’s no reason for any of us to face reality if we don’t like it. Much better to see the world as we want to see it, because then we can feel strong and empowered and happy, and that’s a self-fulfilling prophesy that gives us exactly what we wanted in the first place.”

Mari’s face was pale. “So, all this time, I’ve been creating smut?”

“Yes. Couldn’t be avoided, but that’s okay because there’s this lovely gentleman who I’ve been loading it onto. But my ex-husband is back in town, and he’s planning to kill Smutty so he can take the kingdom back.”

Mari gripped the edge of the bench. “But if your smut monster gets killed, that means—”

“Yes, it means all the fallout will come back onto us.” Oh, she hated to admit that. Her only goal had been to protect her girls and empower them, not turn them into Smutty juniors. “I’ll get the most, but—”

“I have over a hundred years of magic.” Mari looked like she was going to tip over.

Angelica caught her shoulders. “It’s okay, darling. I have it under control.”

Mari stared at her, and Angelica’s heart sank at the look of fear and betrayal on her baby’s face. “I trusted you.”

“No, you didn’t. You never have.” Angelica sighed. “Can you really tell me that you never suspected you were using black magic? White magic could never cause the amount of damage we inflicted on those men, and you knew that in your heart.”

“I—” Mari’s mouth opened, and then shut. “You’re right. I did know. I’m so awful—”

“No!” Angelica tightened her grip on Mari’s shoulders. “It was the right choice, and denying it was self-preservation. You’re a good girl, dearie, and I’m proud of you.”

Mari took a deep breath. “I can’t deal with this right now.”

“You’re absolutely right. We don’t have time to get all hung up on ethical discussions.” Oh, how proud was she of her little trouper! No whining by Mari. “We need to go out and find Smutty and get him to a safe place where Napoleon can’t touch him.”