Page 24 of Chasing the Night
“What makes you so sure you’re worth plucking?” Aella snipped before rudely grasping my chin and directing me toward her. A wide, round brush chased powder about my face until I could taste chalkiness of it. I swatted at her dusting hand and smacked the wrist that held my chin captive.
She stepped back, tucked her chin and looked up from beneath her many tiny twists and braids. The glare she placed on me was nothing short of murderous. My fingers balled into fists again. I could feel the thick negative energy rolling off her, but I didn’t want to fight her. I didn’t want to hurt her. I just wanted to be left alone. The flooding of my room had drained me.
“Enough,” Messiah insisted, stepping around and between us. His voice was next to a whisper, but his tone was firm and expectant. A throaty sound of disgust erupted on the other side of him, and Aella stormed from the room.
I stared after her, suddenly flooded with tears of rage. In that moment, I cursed my inaction. The possibility that he might now believe me weak enraged me to the point my cheeks flushed.
“Alright. Enough fuckery. Let’s set to doing the impossible,” he playfully drawled. He reached with the brush and I ducked my head back, glaring at him.
“Impossible? I’m impossible?” Why did I give a fuck what he thought I was? Fuck. Just shut up, Chalice.
“No,” he replied in that smooth unshakeable tone of his, “the order to enhance your beauty is impossible, my little dark jewel.” The make-up brush fluttered down the length of my nose only to pause like a kiss atop my lips. “Your eyes are unrivaled, Chalice, like the sacred crystals of the peninsula. Only I’ve never seen crystals that change like your dark jewels.”
He pursed his lips and used the brush to encourage my chin up. When my eyes met his, I was stuck, unable to look away. It was mere eye contact, but I felt like he was exploring something in me that even I hadn’t broken the surface of.
“Sometimes they are a deep amber, others almost like the night’s sky. And then… there are times like now, when they melt to honey, and I can see…” His voice trailed off, pulling me along with it.
“What do you see?” I whispered, only to realize I was leaning toward him. His eyes ripped from mine, and he danced back around me.
“I see a young lady who is late and still needs her hair set.”
His words snapped me from whatever that was.
Something electric slid up my spine, causing my right shoulder to jump. His large, wide hand fell atop it almost immediately, spreading its warmth and offering his strength.
“You will do well tonight. I assure you, even Isabella will be jealous.” His last few words were said around a mouthful of pins. One by one, they were used to fasten my hair to his whim.
“Is that what’s wrong with Aella?” I asked, not really understanding what he meant. What was it I had to do? I couldn’t bring myself to ask. I didn’t want to appear ignorant in front of him. I had been bared in enough ways; my lack of education needn’t be added to the fire.
“Aella… yes, actually. She is upset that Reverie was unioned before her. She has done much for the family and wishes her own household.”
“So, why doesn’t she keep an eye out for someone to court? I never see her out, really. She can’t very well find someone in here.”
He was smiling and staring at me in a way that left me feeling foolish. He patiently licked his lips and studied the floor while nodding. It made his long-twisted locks skim about the laces of his deep V-cut tunic. His dark chest peeked out and muscles were promised before the ties concealed the lower half of his abdomen. I had heard tales that Spice Landers didn’t grow chest hair, so I found myself eyeing the mirror and squinting to discern.
“Something in your eye, love?” he asked while coming back around to line my eyes. My face flushed, and for the life of me I couldn’t meet his hazel eyes.
“Close them, but don’t scrunch,” he whispered.
I sat still as a statue, unbreathing as the kohl was carefully applied to both my top and bottom eyelids. I’d never wore more than a homemade lip stain, and here was a man—a man—applying my makeup.
“Fucking exquisite,” he leaned in and whispered near my ear.
My eyes snapped open, but not before my senses had drank in the scent of him. It reminded me of the sweet smooth liquor I had sampled with Reverie. A dash of something fresh, like the salt tainted coastal breeze. When Messiah invaded a space, he made it his, stamping the air with the essence of something calculated and capable.
A door slammed down the hall with such ferocity that it shook mine. Loud, hysterical sobbing echoed through the Villa. I startled and collided with him roughly when impulse bid me to react. I gasped, turned, and was prepared to start for the door, but his hand gently caught my wrist.
“You needn’t concern yourself with that mess,” he said, as if it were the screaming of a tea kettle.
“Wha… what kind of mess?” Before he could answer me, the door burst open. Reverie flew toward us, and with both arms out, threw herself to our mercy “Wha… Reverie…”
Her fingers wound in the sleeve of my dress, bunching and twisting the fabric beneath her grasp. The other made similar work of Messiah’s sleeve, leaving his chest half bared and her weight straining between us.
Her desperate cries transitioned without warning into an ugly bout of hyperventilation.
“Wha…” I looked wide eyed to Messiah and used the heel of my hand to thump him in the arm. “What the fuck?”
“Enough,” he clipped, breaking that cool demeanor of his.