Page 25 of A Devious Arrangement
My heart doesn’t calm until the two men bow to Damon, speaking in low voices as they lift something from the table. My mouth grows dry at the glint of the knife and the red liquid that drips from the Unsainted’s palm.
This must be the ceremony where he’s sworn in as a Saint.
Heat burns into the side of my head, and I carefully shift so I can look in the direction it’s coming from. My heart skips when I spot Bash looking at me, his neck tilted as if trying to figure me out. I quickly look away and pretend like the floor is the most interesting thing in the world. The fabric that covers my hair and face feels see-through under his piercing gaze, and I cautiously lift my hand to pull it lower over my face.
It seems like forever until the ceremony ends, the surrounding crowd lifting from their seats. My palms are sweating, and my heart feels like it’s going to break through my rib cage. The last thing I want to do is go snooping through the Vault. I breathe in through my nose and count. One. Two. Three. Breathe out. One. Two. Three, until I find some semblance of calm.
This is the reason I risked everything. I can’t give up now. Not when the Salvatores are breathing down my back.
The men are all standing, their bodies providing the perfect cover for me to sneak to the rear, tucking myself close to the wall. Drunken, horny Bash had let slip the fact that there are multiple rooms down here. All I have to do is find them. It’s darker here, the lights pointed away from me, and I let myself disappear down the length of the room. My fingers graze against the textured wall as I follow it until it ends. The air from the hallway is stale, hotter than the cavernous chamber. The temperature rises with each step I take deeper. My wet palms have nothing to do with the heat as I wipe them on my robe.
My muscles grow tense until my shoulders ache. Every second I’m here brings me closer to being caught. There’s a dim light coming from a room up ahead, and my steps falter. This is why I’m here.
It’s not until my head feels faint that I realize I haven’t taken a breath.
I pause, my feet frozen in place as I mentally prepare myself for what’s inside. Out of the millions of excuses I can come up with, none are believable enough to explain my presence down here. Not to mention, a single word out of me will give away the fact that I’m not who I say I am.
Praying to every god I can think of, I step into the room. My shoulders collapse forward when I see that I’m alone in here. I’m pretty sure this is taking years off my life.
Shelves lined with books cover the walls, reaching all the way to the ceiling. The space is lit by a single candelabra holding three flames. It’s eerily silent. We shouldn’t be far enough away to not be able to hear the voices from the other room. The air grows thicker with each step I take until it’s hard to inhale. It smells like dirt and musk from old pages. Forget what I said earlier. This is something out of a horror film, and I’m the stupid girl who just walked into a trap.
There’s a single table in the center, and a thrill tingles through me as I approach. There’s a glass case in the middle, lined with velvet, and the tiara resting within. Holy shit. “I found it.”
My fingers tremble as I go to open it, but the lid won’t open. There’s some kind of lock holding it in place. I lean in closer, brushing off the dust covering it, revealing a manual number pad. I shift on my feet as I take everything in, trying to work out what to do next. There are countless number combinations; it would take weeks, not minutes, to try them all. I lift a brass candle holder from the table and cover the glass with my robe, hoping that’s enough to dampen the sound. The way this room seems to silence all noise is no longer creepy and has turned into my only saving grace. Balancing the heavy weight in my hand, I raise it high. I’ll only get one shot at this.
“I wouldn’t do that if I were you.”
I turn, shock quickly replaced with fear ricocheting in my chest, and stare directly into Bash’s smiling face.
Chapter 10
Bash
What do we have here?The strand of red peeking out from the Saints hood lets me know it’s Volkov, but there’s been something off with him tonight. Something that’s been drawing my attention and teasing my curiosity. Why the fuck I am so interested in a guy? Now, his sister…she consumes my every thought.
Here he is, sparking my interest in the last place I expected. Deep within the Vault, trying to break into a jewelry case. He’s risking a slow, brutal death. No one fucks with the Order of Saints. I should sound the alarms, but my ever-growing curiosity gets the better of me. He’s frozen in place, head bowed low, his hand still gripping the candlestick as I approach. I brace myself to avoid his attack, but he doesn’t budge, as if he’s a deer in headlights. I’m so close I can see his chest rise and fall with his fast breaths, and I don’t stop approaching until my shoes graze the hem of his robe.
There’s a tingling sensation starting in my lower back before running up my spine. An excitement breaks through the tedium as I lift my hand and slowly push back the hood, raising the silver mask with it.
My heart stops in my chest, then rams forward at the sight of Anastasia Volkov. Look what we have here. Captivated, I stalk forward, looming over her as she stares up at me with wide blue eyes.
Anastasia stumbles, colliding with the tables, and I grip her arms tight enough to bruise, preventing her from escaping.
“What are you doing here?” I hiss. My arms tremble as I shake her. Curiosity vanishes under the weight of exactly what she’s risking. “Are you fucking crazy?”
“I…I can explain.” The whites of her eyes show around her iris, and her teeth clatter together as she watches me.
“Oh yeah? Try?” My jaw aches from clenching it so hard as she stares up at me, opening and closing her mouth, no words leaving her plump lips.
“Fuck, Stasia.” The bitter taste of fear fills my mouth. I have to get her out of here. Then, I can give in to my obsessive need to figure her out. To pull her apart until I know everything about her.
First, she needs to get the hell out of here.
I seize her arm, ready to drag her out of the room, when a man turns the corner. I instinctively place myself between him and Stasia, covering her body and blocking his view of her. She’s maskless. Vulnerable. A simple glance will give her away.
My heart’s ricocheting in my chest, sending my blood pulsing in my ears. A protectiveness normally reserved for my family takes over. I do the only thing I can think of and crash my mouth against hers, eating up her sounds of protest. The Unsainted needs to believe she wants to be here. I push her hard into the bookshelves, hiding her completely as I devour her mouth. She fights against my touch, struggling to break free. I deepen the kiss, sucking on her tongue, and my cock hardens when she softens in my arms, giving in to me. Her fingers grip my waist under my robe, and her nails dig into my skin, but she’snot pushing me away. From her ragged breath and her death grip, it’s clear she’s terrified, and I’m overcome with the need to comfort her. To tell her I’d never let anything happen to her.
But first, I have to get rid of this asshole.
