“No idea,” I answer honestly. “I guess you could say I’m winging it.”
Zane fist pumps the air and then throws his arm around me, pulling me into his side. “That’s my girl.”
Warmth blossoms in my chest at his praise, and I snuggle into him, breathing in his dark chocolate scent.
“I love you. You know that, right?” I whisper, keeping the words between us.
Zane stares down at me, and his luminescent brown eyes carry more warmth and adoration than I thought possible. They practically set my skin on fire.
“I love you,princesa. With my heart, body, soul, and penis.”
I stumble over my feet. “Your penis? Seriously?”
Zane nods. “It’s just as important as the other three.”
“You don’t have a romantic bone in your body,” Beckett retorts, shaking his head with feigned sadness.
“Are you saying that Ellie doesn’t own your penis?” Zane arches a haughty brow at him.
Beckett rolls his multicolored eyes. “Of course she does. I would just say it more…romantically.”
“How?” Dom deadpans. “She owns your lovemaking stick?”
Beckett nods, as if Dom proved his point somehow, then stares pointedly at Zane. “See? Even Dom knows how to be romantic.”
“Lovemaking stickis romantic?” Zane sounds incredulous.
“Very,” Beckett says.
“Agreed,” adds Dominic.
I say nothing, though I find myself biting down on my lower lip to keep from laughing.
But all amusement fades as we step out of the ballroom—leaving behind the whispers, giggles, and muffled conversations of the guests—and head down a dark hallway.
Aria’s waiting for us at the end of it.
She doesn’t say anything as we finally catch up and descend a steep staircase, entering what appears to be a basement.
I want to say it’s even more elegant and beautiful than the ballroom. Everything is painted in chromatic shades of white and gold, with fancy glass vases adorning the perimeter and paintings hanging overhead. The door we step through slams behind us and locks with an audible click.
Fear crawls over me like ants, but I force myself to stand tall, to not cower.
In the center of the room are over twenty masked faces, and they all turn when we approach.
The Divine One steps in front of me, expertly commanding attention. “Welcome, esteemed guests. We have an exciting night of entertainment planned for you.”
On cue, a back door opens, and half a dozen servants enter, all wearing nondescript masks and robes. I still don’t know who these people are and why they’re here. Are they victims, like the naked men and women upstairs? Are they here willingly, enticed by the money the Paragons of Prosperity are no doubt offering? Either way, I can’t help but feel a white-hot, blistering rage as I watch them walk from person to person, holding out a tray.
On the tray are knives.
Beautiful knives, with intricate hilts inlaid with gemstones and glimmering tips.
When one of the servants reaches the four of us, Dominic begins to decline, but I wordlessly shake my head and grab a knife. I have no idea what Aria has in store, but I have a feeling we’re going to need a weapon to survive tonight. He stares at me in disbelief before grabbing one as well.
“No thanks,” Zane tells the servant. He reaches into the waistband of his pants and pulls out his favorite bedazzled dagger. I have no idea how he snuck it in, and I’m afraid to ask. There are only so many places on his body he could hide it. Maybe Beckett’s right. Maybe he shoved it up his—nope. Not thinking about that. “I have my own.” He turns toward me and waggles his eyebrows. “It’s my lovemaking stick.”
Beckett facepalms himself—fortunately not with the hand holding his own knife.
