My eyebrows shot up. ‘You spied on me?’
‘Oh, yes.’ She nodded enthusiastically. ‘You are very interesting. Come now – there is a room for dressing and hygiene.’
Why does everyone around Devereux speak so strangely?
She stepped over to the nearest wall, touched a symbol carved in the wood and a panel slid aside exposing an opening into yet another room: the ‘room for dressing and hygiene’, or more commonly, the bathroom. It was a very large, ornate bathroom.
She took my hand and pulled me as if I were her little red wagon. The rest of the team remained behind.
Gee. Devereux’s private bathroom. Should I genuflect or something?
The room was big enough to be a public restroom, but much too luxurious for the masses. There was a faint hint of his scent in the air, perhaps more easily recognised because no incense was burning to mask the fragrance. Mirrors lined each wall and opulent silver-streaked marble counters were abundant. Multiple sinks with sparkling modern hardware were interspersed along the counters and the floor was pristine white marble.
A huge silver bathtub sat on a raised platform, enclosed by glass etched with figures of nude men and women dancing. Next to it, in another glass-surrounded area, was a double shower.
Fluffy white towels sat in piles on the various counters and hung in artistic racks on the walls next to the bath and shower areas.
Painted along the top of the walls, like a happy little border, were more men and women frolicking in all their naked majesty.
This is unsettling. Devereux really seems to enjoy the nude human form. That makes me both anxious and excited at the same time. Back to my question about the nature of the ritual.
White leather chairs and a loveseat sat off to the side in an alcove, and a clothing rack stood next to a small mirrored makeup table with a fancy matching chair. On the table was a little box wrapped in shiny paper with a rose pinned to the top instead of a bow. A small card had my name on it.
Nola watched me as I opened the gift. She rocked back and forth from heel to toe, smiling a cat-who-ate-the-canary smile.
Inside was a black velvet jewellery box containing a gorgeous silver pentagram on a chain, identical to the one Devereux’s mother wore in her portrait.
I was speechless. My mouth opened into an ‘ah’ that remained silent. The weight and craft of the piece suggested it was high quality and probably very valuable.
I turned to Nola and shook my head.
She looked surprised. ‘Are you unhappy with your gift? The Master was very pleased to choose it for you.’
‘No, I’m not unhappy – I’m confused. Why would he give me something so valuable? He barely knows me.’
She tilted her head to the other side and studied me. ‘Perhaps that is not true. You must dress now. The night awaits.’
Just then, as if there’d been a silent signal, the other women filed into the bathroom. I decided to let all the rest of my questions wait until I could speak to Devereux.
After some initial stubbornness on my part, when I insisted on adjusting my own breasts in the cups of the corset, I finally gave up and let them take over. It turned out they were pretty good with makeup and hair, and when they finally stepped away to survey their work, it was declared good.
They’d managed to enhance my features through their cosmetic witchery. They had left my hair down, and subtle silver sparkles had been dusted on my curls. The lovely pentagram necklace was added as a last touch. It dangled in the cleavage created by the low-cut dress and tight corset.
Although cleavage was usually the least of my concerns. In fact, eliminating it had always been a thornier problem. Thinking about my genetic heritage from my mother made me wonder what she’d say if she saw me at that moment. If she and my father had considered me strange before, now they’d probably move to another state and leave no forwarding address.
Suddenly all the women raised their heads as if they were listening to something I couldn’t hear, then Devereux’s enticing voice floated through the opening of the door.
‘Kismet? Shall we go?’
The sensuous sound of his voice sent a wave of heat through my body and caused my heart to stutter. Everything about Devereux fried my circuits.
My entourage escorted me back into the other room, as I wobbled a bit on my shoes’ thin heels. They were not quite stilettos, but in the neighbourhood.
He literally gasped when he saw me, and I had the same reaction when I laid eyes on him.
He waltzed elegantly over to me, held out both hands and took mine. ‘You humble me with your beauty. I am overwhelmed.’
‘Uh . . .’
It’s becoming annoying that my brain goes on vacation whenever I’m around Devereux. I had no idea lust could be so intoxicating.
He twirled me in a dancelike movement, causing my dress to spiral out around me, lifting off the ground.
He looked spectacular. Dressed in cream-coloured soft leather, his trousers were obviously cut specifically for his lean, muscular frame. They fitted his body like a perfect glove, the waistband riding just above his hips. A line of soft platinum hair snaked down his lower stomach and disappeared into his trousers. With the exception of those enticing little strands, his chest was smooth and hair-free. The state of his chest was apparent because he wasn’t wearing a shirt. The muscles in his abdomen were toned and obvious, and his nipples peeked out occasionally from beneath the open floor-length duster, which moved like something much softer than leather. Or maybe that was how expensive leather moved.
Shining in the centre of his chest was the same antique medallion he’d worn the first time he’d come to my office.
The colour of his hair matched his clothing and it spilled down over his shoulders, long, soft and delectable. The blue-green of his eyes sparkled with a fire from within. They shone like the alchemical blending of emeralds and sapphires.
As he swayed with me in our inadvertent dance, I became entranced by the sight of him in all that leather without a shirt. The pink of his nipples peeped out from the edges of the duster, vivid against his pale skin, and captured my attention – and my imagination. A trick of the light made the medallion seem to pulse against his skin. I had to fight the desire to run my hands over his chest.
We stopped moving and I finally found my voice. ‘You look amazing. I just want to run my fingers through your hair and lick your chest.’
My outburst startled me and I felt my face grow hot with embarrassment. Geez, did I really say that out loud? Have I been sucked into the cult?
He let go of me then took my face in his hands.
‘Thank you for that. I have never been so flattered. I hope you will still feel that way when we are alone later.’
When we’re alone later? At least he assumes I’ll get through this ceremony in one piece.
He smiled. ‘As I have said, I swear you will be safe.’
‘And when did I give you permission to read my thoughts again?’
‘My apologies.’ He bent his arm at the elbow and lifted it for me to take. ‘The journey to the ceremonial site might cause you to be dizzy and momentarily uncomfortable. It will pass quickly.’
What? Every time I start to acclimatise, he says another weird thing.
I had a brief panic attack and considered bolting out the door, but decided I wouldn’t get far in the high-heeled shoes. I had to clear my throat a couple of times before I could speak.
‘Where are we going? How will we get there?’
We walked into his main office and headed towards what appeared to be a solid wall.
‘Our destination is another dimension, and we shall move through thought.’
Before I could complain or raise my hand up to keep my head from colliding with the physical boundary in front of me, I heard a swoosh of air again, as I had when Devereux brought me from my house. My hair was blown back gently from my face and my equilibrium shifted. I’d say we’d been moving, but it wasn’t like any kind of motion I’d felt before. It reminded me of an experience I had in an elevator once, when the car plummeted down several floors in free fall before the automatic controls took over and stopped the downward motion. My stomach churned and if Devereux hadn’t been holding me, my knees would have buckled.