Page 36 of Feast of Sparks (Thornchapel 2)
They’re not helping at all, in fact, which means I’m going to have to either get more creative with my already embarrassingly frequent masturbation schedule or hope that Auden and Saint are willing to set down their grudges in the name of kinky sex.
Better order a vibrator, Poe, because that last one isn’t going to happen.
I catch Saint’s eye as we walk into the library. He worked for his uncle again today, it being one of those sporadic times when Augie needed an extra set of hands, and so he’s freshly showered, smelling like soap and woodsmoke, wearing jeans so broken in that the soft denim cups the taut cheeks of his ass and the strong lines of his thighs. Auden couldn’t stop staring as we moved from the dining room across the hall. Hell, neither could I.
But now when Saint’s gaze snags mine, I give him a meaningful look and subtly nod my head toward Auden. Talk later? the nod asks. I get a small scowl, but he eventually nods back.
Good. We’ll get some booze in us, and then I’ll lay it out for them.
“Is there an agenda for this meeting?” Auden asks, only half-dryly, as we spill into the room. The fire’s already been lit, and Sir Ja
mes Frazer is already on his favorite rug in front of it, his massive body curled into the tightest ball possible and his nose tucked under his tail.
Rebecca gives him a you’re very funny look. “Given that this is your house, it really should be your job to call the meetings.”
“Becket is the oldest,” Auden points out, wandering over to his customary spot by the fireplace. “Maybe he should.”
Becket, having had some manner of youth group earlier in the evening, is still in his collar and swirls his glass of wine with a small smile on his face. A smile that says no way in hell am I getting roped into this spat.
My own whisky in hand, I settle on one of the sofas with Delphine, who turns so she can plop her feet in my lap. Her toenails are painted a cute pastel purple—echoing the deep purple bruising around her toes and the top of her foot. When she sees me looking, she shrugs. “Two photoshoots in a row this week. The heels didn’t fit either day.”
I knew that Delphine occasionally modeled—usually for boutique designers who focused on plus-size fashion, but lately she’d inked a few deals with more established brands that were trying to advertise their more inclusive lines. I’d seen the gorgeous pictures on her Instagram, had left heart-eyed emojis all over them. Never once had I considered how shitty and grueling the process of looking beautiful could be. I certainly didn’t think it would involve bruises.
“It’s a new kink,” she says, waggling her feet in my lap and then wincing.
“Has Rebecca seen them?” I ask quietly, so that no one else can hear. I’m not sure exactly what Delphine and Rebecca are—I know they spent Imbolc night together, but since then, there’s been a careful distance between them—but I do know that Rebecca would have strong feelings about any kind of harm done to Delphine’s body outside of a kink scene.
“Noooo,” Delphine answers, tucking her feet between my legs, making a face as the pressure twinges her bruises. “There’s no point. She’ll just tell me to stand up for myself, as if I’m not already doing my fucking best while they’re taping me into swimsuits and lingerie, and anyway, I’m not at a point in my career where I can throw a fit about some shoes hurting my feet.”
But despite her quick, assured words, her eyes move over to the slim figure silhouetted by the fire.
“Maybe you could still—” I start, but I’m interrupted, and it’s just as well. Who am I to give Delphine advice about Rebecca when Auden, Saint, and I are such a fucking mess?
“St. Sebastian, thank you for finally joining us,” Rebecca says as Saint finally emerges out of the library’s shadows and into the circle of firelight. He’s taken his time getting a drink, and I half wonder, judging by the way his eyes cut over to the door and his teeth catch around his lip piercing, if he was contemplating escape.
From the group meeting or from talking with me and Auden?
Saint just gives Rebecca his normal half-lidded brood, and she sighs. It’s very close to a Delphine sigh. I think I was right to think that she still doesn’t entirely approve of Saint being in our circle. I haven’t forgotten what happened, she’d told me once about him.
“I’ll just get to the point then,” she says, setting her glass of wine on the mantel next to Auden’s glass. “Imbolc night was a very powerful experience for me, and I think for everyone else here as well. I want to do it again.”
“What, next year?” Auden asks.
“No, you pillock,” Delphine interjects impatiently. “Didn’t you listen to any of the Imbolc planning we did? Look at any of the books? Obviously, Rebecca is referring to May Day.”
“Beltane,” Becket corrects.
“Beltane,” Delphine says. “First day of May. The next feast.”
“Well, or the last day of April,” Becket says. “Actually, there is some debate about—”
Rebecca raises her palm to stave the inevitable lecture. “Whatever we’re going to call it, I think we should do it.”
“Yes,” Delphine says eagerly. “Yes, yes, and yes.”
Saint’s voice is low as he speaks from the edge of the gloom. “Maybe we shouldn’t.”
We all turn to him. “Why not?” Delphine asks, frowning prettily at him. “I saw you that night—the whole house heard you and Poe afterward. I know you liked it.”
