Page 18 of A Dance Macabre

WOLFGANG

She smells like cherry and burnt almonds.

The smell wafts around me as Mercy climbs into the limousine, and it makes me practically salivate. I have half a mind to shove her back out with my wingtip shoe to the middle of the chest just so I don’t have to ingest any more of her essence.

She’s repulsive.

Offensive.

Downright distasteful.

Everything I am not.

I glare in her direction as she settles beside Belladonna—as far away from me as possible—her black dress fluttering around her as she crosses her legs, emerald eyes looking peeved as always.

My eyes dip down to her exposed calf. I linger on the delicate curve where her foot disappears into her stiletto, the heel designed to look like a dagger. I slowly trail my tongue over my bottom lip, remembering how her skin felt on mine.

My chest squeezes.

I look away.

Wrinkle my nose.

Vile brute.

The door opens, and a euphony of giggles and laughs replaces the stilted silence. Two bewildered Pravitians are shoved into the limousine by Constantine and Gemini.

Constantine’s chosen seems to have struggled, sporting a bloody nose and a split lip. When the civilians notice who else is in the vehicle, they turn crestfallen and sit beside each other in a small huddle of shaky limbs.

I smile.

It’s our birthright to be this ruthless. One I’ve always taken pleasure in indulging in.

Mine and Mercy’s catch were easier to control. I offered the two men rose-colored glasses and they gladly took them. They’re now sprawled in the corner, small sated smiles on their lips, without a care in the world. Belladonna’s pick sits next to them, eyes wide and brimming with unshed tears.

I turn to Constantine. She’s climbing over Gemini while he tries to grope her, both of them snickering like a bunch of drunks as she tries to fit into the empty spot beside him.

I clear my throat, trying to get her attention. “Tinny, where’s Sasha?”

“Said he’d meet us there,” she answers, followed by anoofwhen she finally plops down on the seat. She surveys the limousine, excitement twinkling in her blue eyes. “Can I keep mine scared?” She glances over, mischief in her smile. “I love them scared.”

I roll my eyes. She’s like dealing with a younger sibling. That’s only a vague guess since I have no experience with siblings—none of us do—a deliberate choice made by our parents.

“No, we need them docile first,” I tell her sternly.

Her shimmering pink lips turn pouty, but she follows with a wave of the hand, wordlessly giving me the go-ahead.

My eyes are drawn to Mercy, her gaze luckily on Gemini, before I course-correct and focus on the three Pravitians needing my rapt attention.

I feel the limousine pull onto the street when I snap my fingers, demanding that their eyes be on me.

As it always should be.

One by one, I gaze deeply into the chosens’ eyes, my smile placating and harmless.

The warm sensation always begins at the base of my spine, tingling up to the crown of my skull. It’s how I know it’s working. I have them under my spell.

Their expressions fade into a blank stare, their eyes dimming.

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