Page 16 of The Arbiter

“What the actual fuck?” Enoch yells, bursting through the door and slamming it open hard enough that it crashes into the wall. I cover my ears at the noise.

“Hey!” I yell back, regretting it immediately. I quickly make my tone softer, but I leave all evidence of irritation. “This place is an antique, so can you please try not to rip the walls down while throwing your little fit.”

Monroe cuts between us. “Bonjour, Liege Enoch. Have a nice rest?” The humor in his voice has me trying my hardest not to crack a smile.

Apparently, Enoch doesn’t find it so funny. He starts toward my side of the bed with a look of pure rage on his face, and Monroe whips up faster than I can follow, planting himself between the two of us. I want to say that I have some form of self-preservation, but I don’t. The last thing going through my mind as my gaze rakes down Monroe’s naked backside is the furious Damned facing us down. Something else has grasped my attention, making me zone out of Enoch’s show of testosterone.

Something I didn’t remember, or maybe I’m just now seeing it, is the ink that covers Monroe. There are dark angel wings that start right at the base of his neck, spanning the length of his shoulder blades and leading down into the biceps of his arms. Almost on top of that is a depiction of the gates of hell. If you look at it from far away, there’s a distinctive skull shape to it. Up close, there’s an ancient castle wall with two window panes and a doorway centered beneath. Those windows look like the stained glass of a church, only the faces on the surface are writhing in pain. On top of the wall, two hellhounds stand watch as a black robed figure holds the double doors open. Behind him is a courtyard filled with gravestones of every size and shape. Creatures crawl up the edge of the courtyard, slowly making their way toward the door.

The scene looks real enough to give me chills, and I can’t stop myself from reaching out to touch it. He tenses beneath my fingers for a half a second before relaxing again. It’s then that I realize that there is a standoff happening between the two of them, neither backing down, and there’s no telling how long I’ve been staring at Monroe’s back. I conclude that it can’t have been long because it’s almost as if Enoch has just now noticed Monroe’s nudity.

His eyes flick down and back up again as he realizes the position that he’s put himself in. The look on his face is enough that a bark of a laugh escapes me without permission. Monroe, still on his knees in front of me, doesn’t seem to be the least bit bothered with the fact that his goods are there for Enoch and the world to see. If anything, he stands a little taller, like he already knows how sinfully sexy that body is.

It stirs feelings inside of me that make me wish Enoch had never burst in here. Laying a hand flat against Monroe’s back, I watch as Enoch’s nostrils flare in anger before his second form starts to take over, that dark red skin and curled horns finally making an appearance.

“Whether you want it or not, you belong to me, Nocturna. My Baellock will not stand down,” he growls.

This sets off a fire in me. “Yours, Enoch? I haven’t been yours for almost a hundred years. You left me and didn’t look back. You no longer have anything I need or want.”

He growls again and, ignoring Monroe’s nakedness, steps within touching distance. Monroe lets out his own warning growl, and I know that his second form has also come out to play.

Instead of reaching out for me, Enoch spins on his heel and rushes out at inhuman speed.

“Well, he certainly is the jealous type,” Monroe states with humor lacing his voice. He peeks over his shoulder at where my hand is still connected to his back. “You alright, chere?”

Pulling my hand away, I fall back to the pillows. He follows before throwing the sheet back over me protectively. I would swoon over his gentleman-like behavior if I wasn’t so caught up in being mad at Enoch’s pathetic claim over me. He left and hadn’t come back in almost a hundred years, yet he still wants to say that I’m his? Even after all this time, my heart wants to believe it, but my mind absolutely rebels against the idea.

“I’m fine,” I finally answer him, more than a little dishonest.

His second form fades out as his ice-cold lips press against my cheek, sending goosebumps down my neck and spine. It’s like a shock to my system, and I jump up out of bed away from him.

Walking over to my closet to grab some clothes, I say, “I’m going to shower. I don’t want to be rude and kick you out or anything, but I hardly know you. Last night…” I stop as I realize that I don’t feel an ounce of regret or shame at being with him, so I continue, “Last night was incredible from what I can remember, but a lot of what happened was the copious amounts of Nightlock that I drank. Next time it happens, I’d like to have gotten to know you better and not be drunk or having a serious hangover from Damnation.”

Did I just confirm that this was happening again?I shrug internally.Why the fuck not?We’re both consenting adults, with only the one small, or huge, problem of a jealous Baellock.

Monroe laughs before sitting up to pick up his discarded shirt on the floor. He throws it on as those eyes scour my naked body. “You don’t have to explain to me, chere. I am perfectly fine with letting you shower alone.”

He walks over and grips my chin gently between his thumb and index finger, and with those eyes glittering with a mix of amusement and lust, he says, “I will be the gentleman and let us get to know each other, but don’t be mistaken. This will happen again. You are quite the woman, and any man would be an idiot not to see the prize that you are. I can wait until you’re ready.”

His words put a blush on my cheeks, and I nod to him.

As he goes to walk out my bedroom door, he stops and turns back to me. “I will be waiting, Nocturna. I will have you in my life regardless of whether I’m the only man in yours.”

Throwing me another of those wicked smiles, he leaves me standing and staring after him like the village idiot.

After showering, dressing, and gathering my thoughts, I join Jamie and Felix as they set up the VIP area for our visiting Infernal tonight. I haven’t seen hide nor hair of Enoch, but he’s probably sulking in a corner somewhere. Against my protests, Monroe helps us. He makes subtle affectionate advances such as a light caress on my arm as he walks by or a smile across the room as I catch his eye. Enoch has been my only legitimate relationship, but he was never about the small flirtations and pretty words, the exact opposite of Monroe. It’s hard not to feel a little special gaining attention from a man of his looks and status.

Of course, Jamie misses nothing and pries what happened last night out of me. What I don’t tell her is that I can’t handle the heartbreak of loving another Damned like him. Jamie, however, is very pro Monroe. Who wouldn’t be?

“Ugh,” I tell her, “I’m just ready to get this over with. This day only has the potential to get even worse.”

Monroe chooses that exact moment to march up to us with Raphael right on his heels. The somber look on their faces puts a queasy feeling in my stomach. He holds out his phone to me. “You need to see this.”

“What…” I start, but he waves off my question and motions for me to take the phone.

“Push play,” he says with a hard voice.

I do as he says.

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