King Tomb (Forever Evermore) (4 page)

It appeared what these people did when we weren’t around was party, because that was what was happening from what I could see.

There were multiple bonfires, Mysticals playing what sounded like bongos and guitars and possibly flutes, each to their own tune, but oddly, the sounds came together all around King Shadow to make a hypnotic melody. The rest of the Mysticals drank and laughed and danced around the fires, or went in and out of each other’s tents where it appeared the party continued on, some tents overfilling.

It wasn’t like we never had parties in Australia, because we did. I just never attended.

I watched a bit longer, memorizing how the tents were laid out. The set-up appeared to be multiple circles of tents starting from a center point — headquarters, in a black tent — and gradually working out, each circle of white home tents just a bit larger than the last, encompassing the previous ones. Sparring fields were off to the right, and to the left was a large red tent, their dining hall, where people continually milled in and out. Cocking my head, I noticed the majority of Mysticals had spelled hair, like mine was, to appear as Coms, which would work in my favor.

The party also meant that they were, more than likely, celebrating a victory. There hadn’t been anything in the files about current missions, but what I was watching was definitely a celebratory gathering, not just a drunken kegger.

Hopping down the branches, I slipped through the Mage ward on the backside of the red tent, and yes, helped myself to some of their grub while keeping my head down and staying in the darkness, which was harder than I expected thanks to all the damn bonfires. The only thing that really helped was that the majority of the Mysticals were already half lit, so while they partied to the enthralling beat, I watched and learned. It was difficult to detect which Mystical was of what faction with their hair as it was, and having to stay far away meant that all their power signatures were mixed before reaching me. Since I was masking completely, keeping all of my own power under lock and key, I had to go on their size and skin tone alone.

Tossing the bone of a chicken leg aside, I finally decided the camp was heavy on the Vampires as the files had indicated. It wasn’t as bad as what I had suspected, but being run by King Zeller and Elder Zeller, they definitely had their favorites. Moving on, I slipped silently between tents, memorizing the ones where the spaces between them were smaller, knowing those would be my best chances for escape if I was ever in trouble by a large group. I paused, waiting for a group to pass by that were laughing and talking about the battle they’d had tonight with a nearby air force base, confirming my assumptions.

Shadowing silently, I followed the drunken group to a tent, which was full of more inebriated Mysticals. I stood outside in the shadows listening to them brag of the Coms they had killed or taken as hostages, and even the airplanes they had captured. From what they said, it sounded like King Zeller and Elder Zeller had run an excellent operation. And that was when I got fucking trapped as four groups came at all angles. Gritting my teeth, I knew I couldn’t just stand there because the place was Vampire heavy, and any one of them would be able to hear a heartbeat lurking in the shadows, so I slipped inside what appeared remarkably similar to my own tent, though decorated in a silver-and-black color scheme. I used my short height to advantage as I hopped behind tall men on the outskirts of the room, using them as shields. Beautifully, they were all wasted enough on alcohol and, from the smell of it, marijuana, so no one noticed as I glided soundlessly through another flap at the back of the room just as the other groups entered the tent and made the crowd in the room surge backward, cutting off any other direction to move.

I stopped, eyes quickly scanning. This section of the tent was a bedroom, so it was constructed just like mine. It was dimly lit, with only one lamp turned on beside the black king-sized bed. The golden glow was only barely on, as if the lamp had a dimmer — unlike mine. I made a mental note to ask Antonio about it because it was kind of calming. The black-and-silver color scheme continued here, so instead of cherry wood dressers, they were black.

Those items took up the right side of the room, and on the left against the tent’s wall there was a long, black leather couch, which looked damn comfortable, made to be reclined on. A bizarre coffee table made of marble and steel sat in front of it, with a litany of drugs showcased in a small compartment in middle, which would have been hidden if it wasn’t open. On the edge of the table was a large ashtray with a blunt still burning inside, sweet, perfumed smoke billowing up from it, making the entire room smell heavily of marijuana and throwing my senses off inside the smoky confines of the intimate room. There were large bottles, some empty and some full, on a marble bar next to the couch, and the back of the room had a small flap, which I was positive was for the bathroom.

No exit.

Sighing, I glanced around the room again, which was empty of any Mysticals, and decided I might as well have a seat and wait it out, and hope the owner didn’t return from the festivities any time soon. The room’s walls had a Mage’s sparkling privacy spell on them, so even though I could still hear the riotous partying and mesmerizing music, no one would be able to hear me in here. Because sadly, I had pretty much imprisoned myself in the damn place.

Sitting on the couch, I stretched my legs out on the coffee table’s edge and perused the drugs in the middle compartment of the table. Green pills. White pills. Black pills. Rolling papers. More blunts. A brick of marijuana. I wasn’t sure what the long strips of thin paper were, but I could see there were other little bags filled with drugs that I had never seen before. In other words, it was a druggie’s treasure chest. Not really thinking much of it, since Mysticals couldn’t become addicted to drugs physically, I rested further on the couch and eyed the blunt. I had never smoked weed before, but it had been tempting in my moments of insanity.

That was when I heard a rustling to the left. Startled, I snapped my attention to the back of the tent, my eyes instantly glowing blue. Ah, shit. I hadn’t even thought to check the damn bathroom.

I was now staring at an enormous, six-and-a-half-foot Mystical male with spiked purple hair and glowing green eyes.

He stared back.

A couple of ticks went by, then he raised an arched black eyebrow in question.

Clearing my throat, and quickly thinking on my feet since he was masking as completely as me — and by his size, he was most definitely a Shifter — I stated, “It’s too crowded and loud out there. I enjoy the silence.”
Truth
. “I was only resting for a moment.” Slowly, I scrutinized his face, coldly studied it, for his reaction. He had skin like chocolate milk, mocha, his vivid purple hair was about three inches long, and his features were perfectly sharp, with arched black eyebrows, high cheekbones, a straight nose, wide red lips, and an angular jaw. God had given this man the best of everything. He was easily the most beautiful Mystical I had ever seen, and I didn’t even include the way his black thermal shirt molded to his rock solid, kickass pecs and biceps, his waist tapering perfectly to the pair of black army cargos he was wearing, which were tight against his muscled thighs. “May I stay for a bit, if I promise to be quiet?”

His head tilted as he crossed his arms, assessing me, as I was him. “Lower your hood.”

It was an order, but I didn’t mind; I had broken into his room.

After I lowered it, again his eyes evaluated me. “I would think you a Com if your eyes weren’t glowing.” His own glowing gaze met mine. “You’re masking.”

I nodded once. “As are you.”

“Practice.”

Again, I nodded, unable to say I was doing it for practice because it wouldn’t ring true since I was past the practice stage, the action easy now for me. “Do you mind if I stay awhile?”

He turned his attention to the tent flap at the entrance to his bedroom. “I don’t normally allow people back here.” He started moving forward, and I decided he was some kind of cat Shifter by the way he stalked so fluidly, and probably a high-powered alpha by the way he carried himself. “But, what the hell? If you promise to be quiet you can stay for a while.”

I nodded, eyes cold, stopping their glow. “Thank you.”

He grunted, fluidly sitting on the other end of the couch, his own eyes ceasing to glow as he glanced at me. They captured mine. Although their color was gorgeous, like spring grass, vivid against his complexion, they were empty. Ruthless. He wasn’t a man to be messed with. And he was letting me know by his silent stare.

Which was fine for me since I wasn’t a woman to be messed with, my own gaze just as empty.

I saw he had gloves like I wore as I watched him pick up the still burning blunt and a few sheets of paper I hadn’t even noticed past all the drugs. The gloves were black leather, to grip a weapon better, but cut at mid-finger to be able to fire a gun easily, pretty much like all the fighters at my old camp wore. Kicking his feet up on the other end of the coffee table, he rested back like I was and took a drag off the blunt while reviewing the papers, which were slightly wrinkled. Decided he was going to leave me in peace, I lay my head back and stared at the sparkling ceiling, not feeling much of anything. I fingered my thumb ring under my black glove, and again, I closed my eyes, trying to remember in semi-solitude.

As happened every fucking time, nothing came.

I tried again…and nothing.

Except for chilling anger that vibrated through my veins, threatening to drive me crazy.

Sighing softly, I blinked my eyes open, unsure how long they had been closed for. And blinked again, seeing the blunt in front of my face. He wasn’t watching me, or saying anything, but his arm was extended across the space between us, offering to share while he read his papers. I stared at it, wondering if it would help, temptation gnawing. From the sounds outside, the party was still in full swing, so it appeared I was going to be here for some time unless I wanted to risk going out there and be caught trespassing.

Head tilted, I slowly lifted my hand and took the blunt just as mutely as he had offered it. He took his hand back, flipping his sheets. I rolled it between my fingers, my nostrils already filled with its cloying aroma, the room so filled with hovering smoke it was all I could smell.

Well, hell. At this point, I was willing to try anything, and I had time to kill. I took a drag, inhaling heavily and holding it in as I had seen so many others do.

I instantly started coughing, or hacking, more like.

Pounding on my chest, I quickly glanced at the man, but he was ignoring me, so I turned my watering glare to the blunt. Maybe I had not done it right. The people I saw smoking the stuff never coughed. Rolling it around, I bent to ash it, studying it. It was possible I had taken too much in. Trying again, I took a slower, steadier, drag…and didn’t cough this time as my head fell back on the couch, my limbs instantly feeling a little looser, not so stiff as my shoulders relaxed. I sighed as I blew the smoke out, but I didn’t want to be greedy, so I held it across to him.

This was how the next half-hour passed.

Puff, puff, give.

Both of us silent as we shared the fat blunt.

My insides purred in warmth and languid relief by the time he ground it out. He stood from the couch to lift items from the bar, placing two glasses on the edge of the coffee table and a bottle of whiskey between them before retaking his seat.

As I poured my third glass of whiskey, I decided the guy wasn’t half bad, feeling all kinds of relaxed.

Still studying his papers, reading them repeatedly, he rumbled, “You do silence well.”

I snorted, taking another sip of my drink, my head falling to look in his direction. “And you were doing so well, too.”

He grunted. A glance at me, his eyes assessing. Back to his papers. “You’re stoned.”

Yep, I most definitely was that. “That would be an affirmative.” I eyed my almost empty glass, then filled it again. “Close to drunk, too.” I tipped my head to him. “Thank you, by the way.”

“You’re welcome.” He lit another blunt, eyes on his papers. “You must be new here, since I haven’t seen you before.” He took a drag before passing it to me. “Do you have a name?”

“Yes, I do,” I slurred, blinking at my glass as I took two drags before handing it back.

He slid farther down the cushions, getting more comfortable. “And it would be?”

“Eh.” I tilted my head back and forth, the room also tilting with the motion so I did it a few more times, enthralled by the view. “Some have called me,” a few more head tilts, “Red.”

He took a long pull from the blunt. Was blessedly quiet for a good minute. His head slanted on the couch. Finally blowing the smoke out, he sounded bored as he said, “Where are you from, Red?”

I tilted my head back to the ceiling, staring at the sparkles, which looked pretty fucking cool right now. “Huh?”

He grunted, his head tilting my way and I saw the blunt in front of my face again. “You’re originally from some place, aren’t you?”

“Ah.” I took the blunt, squinting at the ceiling to try to remember where I had originally grown up. “That would be,” oh, yes, “my mother’s womb.” Damn fine truthful answer.

He hummed, watching me take a drag. “Interesting…and after?”

I pointed the blunt at him, eyes still on the ceiling. “Your silence was much better than the twenty questions, but I’ll be a dear and play this game a bit longer.” A deep inhale since I was way past the coughing stage. “After the womb, I lived in an apartment.” I nodded heavily on the couch once, enjoying my own wit.

He refilled my glass and his, apparently finally giving up on questioning me. He became mute again as we drank and smoked. Another half-hour went by, and when he teetered grinding out our second blunt, he sluggishly stood, folded his papers, and walked — a little crookedly from my perspective — to one of his dressers, placing the papers inside the top drawer. I yawned, drinking down the last of my whiskey. The sounds outside had faded a bit, and though I wasn’t really sure how long it had been since they had ebbed, I decided it was probably time to go.