In The Barrens she’d revisited those moments in the spiritlands with Ryker. She’d drawn upon the memory of the spirit winds coming to wrap them in an impenetrable cocoon after she’d wished the fog of the ghostlands would block out the sight and sound of his friends calling him. But as they were about to step into Sinners, old doubts assailed her.
She had no formal training. What if she was wrong? Not just about her ability to summon the winds, but about being able to control the Ghost trip as Elena had claimed to overhear Father Ursu saying.
There’d be no circle of protection. Nothing to keep malevolent beings from finding her except her faith in those she would call before entering the spiritlands.
Zurael’s fingers circled her arm possessively as they stepped through Sinners’ doorway. She glanced up at his face and took comfort in the fierceness of his expression.
Ilka and Felipe wore red again, only tonight it was the color of old blood. Aisling could feel the attention of those gathered on the first floor shift away from the street outside and sharpen with predatory interest on her and Zurael.
Titters of anticipation formed an undertone to clinking glass and murmured conversation. A few spared glances at Ilka and Felipe.
As they’d done on their previous visit, Aisling and Zurael moved to the bay window. She settled against him, her back to his chest.
His arms went around her. His lips trailed tender kisses along her neck.
The sight of them captured so intimately in the glass mesmerized Aisling. It blocked out the noise, the presence of others.
Something had changed between them in The Barrens, after the fight with the angel. But she was too much of a coward to speak to him about the future. She was too afraid of learning she’d followed in her mother’s footsteps and, in taking a demon for a lover, had been granted a place in hell.
A shudder went through her before she could stop it. Zurael’s arms tightened. “We can abandon this plan and make another,” he whispered, misinterpreting the source of her anxiety.
“No,” she managed, seeing Ilka’s and Felipe’s approaching images in the glass.
“You’re back,” Ilka purred, eyes bright, gleaming, as if the danger of confronting someone she’d led the vote against, someone who’d survived what waited in the darkness, excited her sexually.
She leaned forward, offering a glimpse of cleavage, a hint of a nipple. Her fingernails were long, painted red to match her outfit and lipstick. They hovered in the air then slowly descended toward Zurael’s arm.
Against Aisling’s back he vibrated with suppressed fury, making her think of the steady, unmistakable sound of a rattlesnake before striking. But Zurael allowed Ilka’s hand to settle on him as they’d agreed upon in The Barrens, and Aisling hated the sight of another woman touching him.
“So this time you’re interested in playing,” Felipe said, following his wife’s lead, leaning forward, stripping Aisling with his eyes.
It was all she could do to tolerate his nearness. Every cell screamed in protest when he ran his fingers down the line of buttons on her shirt.
Bile rose in her throat. She couldn’t speak, couldn’t utter the words necessary.
“You might say we couldn’t stay away,” Zurael said, his voice low, dangerous, his hand moving lower on Aisling’s belly, his touch possessive, blatantly sexual. “But we don’t intend to be entertainment tonight.”
Ilka’s laugh was a husky trill of victory. “Everyone’s entertainment here. See and be seen, though I guess you weren’t here long enough last time to understand the fun of Sinners.”
Her hand slid upward. Her fingers curled around Zurael’s biceps as Felipe’s returned to the top buttons of Aisling’s shirt and freed them, exposing the upper slopes of her breasts.
“Not here,” Zurael growled, grabbing Felipe’s wrist with snake-like quickness.
“Somewhere private,” Aisling said, finally managing to break through the paralysis of her revulsion.
“Hmmm,” Ilka said, shifting her attention to Aisling for the first time and leaning forward so their lips nearly touched. “Privacy is possible, for some. Have you ever been with a woman?”
“No.” It was barely a whisper.
“Then I’ll tell you a little secret. It drives men crazy. Turns them into stallions.” She ran her tongue along the seam of Aisling’s mouth as her hand cupped Aisling’s breast. “But you already know what it’s like to be mounted by a stallion, don’t you?”
“Yes,” Aisling said, fighting to accept Ilka’s touch, blanking her mind to it.
“Not here,” Zurael said, seeming to prove Ilka’s claim by knocking her hand away, then possessively capturing Aisling’s nipple with his fingers, tormenting it until a small moan of pleasure escaped despite their audience.
Ilka licked her lips. “Ummm, delicious. We’re going to enjoy playing together.”
“I think privacy is in order,” Felipe said. “At least to begin with. Some treasures aren’t meant to be shared-at first.”
They pushed away from the bay window with perfectly synchronized grace. Felipe offered his arm and Ilka took it. Neither looked back as they walked away, their footsteps unhurried, the crowd parting in front of them as if they were royalty.
Zurael’s lips found Aisling’s ear. “Do it quickly. I can’t tolerate them touching you.”
Speculative, appraising glances followed them as they trailed Felipe and Ilka up the stairs and down a hallway that had no doors, until they turned a corner.
Felipe stopped in front of the only room possessing a door and produced a key. An anticipatory smile formed on Ilka’s dark red lips. Her eyes traveled to the front of Zurael’s pants. “It’s little more than a closet. But I think it’ll be perfect for getting better acquainted.”
The door swung open. Aisling trembled and felt Zurael’s fingernails sharpen and curl in a hint of the deadly talons they could become. He leaned in, brushed a kiss across her cheek and ear, whispered, “Release me from my agreement, Aisling. Let me do what needs to be done.”
“No,” she said, and they entered the room.
It was small, confining. A bed and two chairs took up much of the floor space.
One of the walls resembled a tack room. It was lined with ropes and leather straps, riding crops and other things Aisling couldn’t identify. Restraints were bolted to a second wall and on the bed frame as well.
Aisling’s thoughts flashed to when Zurael had tethered her wrists to the bed, to the pleasure she’d found. She met his eyes, saw the hot desire in them, the promise.
Heat gave way to icy chill when Ilka and Felipe stepped into the room and locked the door behind them. Dark red fingernails settled over Zurael’s heart. “You I think we need to chain to the wall.”
“No, please. I want him on the bed with us,” Aisling whispered, letting them hear her fear, using it to her advantage as she endured Felipe unbuttoning the front of her shirt.
Ilka’s attention shifted. Her eyes traveled over the length of Aisling’s bared skin. She licked her lips and reached for a wooden rod studded with metal, pulled it from its place on the wall. “Only if he behaves. Only if you both behave.”
Felipe’s hands went to Aisling’s shoulders. He started to slide the jacket off so the shirt could follow.
Her heart tripled its beat. Her breath grew short.
“I’ll do it,” she said, turning her back to them in a seemingly shy gesture.
“Delicious,” Ilka purred.
Aisling’s hands shook as she slipped the small, coffinlike tin from her pocket and tucked it in to her breast band. She shrugged out of her jacket and shirt, baring her upper body except for the fetish pouch and the wide strip of cloth she used to bind her breasts.
“How quaint and old-fashioned,” Ilka said. “What a lovely blindfold that’ll make. Or maybe we’ll use it as a gag.”
Aisling carefully unwound the breast band, making sure the Ghost container remained pressed to her skin until the last moment, when both ends of the binding cloth touched her knees. Fear knotted her stomach, but it didn’t stop her from opening the tin and dipping the first two fingers of both hands into the gray substance, then silently calling the names of the entities who’d witnessed when this task was set before her in the spiritlands.