I carefully maintained a neutral expression, concealing my feeling of self-righteous vindication at Corrine’s acknowledgment of the need for unity between the houses.
Corrine studied me for a long moment. “You underestimate Belham’s cruelty, deviousness, and thirst for complete power. He doesn’t want me as the Elite of this house and is just waiting for the opportunity to have me deposed and replaced with a sycophant who’d give the world the illusion of two houses when in fact they both would be controlled by him.”
“Like what you attempted to do with William?” I countered.
“It’s not the same thing. William isn’t my sycophant. He’d be a worthy Elite and an adversary I could deal with. I guess”—she shrugged—“that role would render you obsolete.”
“That’s assuming he doesn’t possess the same qualities that you loathe in Belham. It’s quite possible that he’s more skilled at disguising it, offering you a more palatable version of himself. What if you put him as the Elite and he was more successful at executing the plan that you’ve accused Belham of? You’d feel quite foolish, wouldn’t you?”
Her eyes narrowed on me as she tapped her nails lightly against her lips. They were more clawlike than ever and I wondered if she used them as such. With enough force, they could be deadly. “When I first met you,” she said, “I found your fearlessness in our presence intriguing. Humans—and lowly witches—always have a whiff of fear and subservience when they interact with us. At times, it can be intoxicating, though mostly I loathe it. But I found your boldness more fragrant and enchanting. Nothing could beat your unflappable confidence. When you chastised us, I found that audacity invigorating.” She leaned in. “That novelty has lost its charm.”
So, I’m the jerk and this has nothing to do with your total lack of self-awareness.
Giving a half-assed attempt to appear regretful and meek, I murmured, “Please forgive my impertinence.”
Corrine had the good manners to pretend it was authentic.
“Are we done here?” I asked.
She took a slow sip from her flute. “Yes. And don’t lie to me again, Kara.”
“Don’t break your promises,” I said, standing up. Exiting the room and peering over my shoulder to catch her eyes, I added, “Make sure my hazard fee is paid in the contracted three days.”
She scoffed. “You’re so different than when you first started working for us,” she said softly to my back.
The change wasn’t by choice. I was forced to be different as a matter of survival. Corrine understood money. Despite the house having a great deal of it, she preferred to keep it. Penalties were the limited abilities I had to make her feel some consequences for her actions, and I got a nice little bonus in the process. It wasn’t enough of a financial burden to deter her indefinitely. Just an opportunity for her to feel slighted by the wasted money.
I wanted to chalk this act up to Corrine and her mercurial ways. But I couldn’t. So I accepted that it was just a minor solution to what was inevitable. One of the houses would fall and there was nothing I could do about it.
3
Scanning the crowd of people dancing at Cloak and Dagger, I searched for Amelia, who I was sure would be in the middle of it earning envious glances from others without the ability to move with the fluidity of water. Or some man taking her winding hips as an invitation to join her. Amelia preferred to dance alone, viewing it as a form of meditation that allowed her mind to fall into the sound of the music and rest.
Pulling my eyes from the DJ on stage whose animated dancing was just as entertaining as the music, I kept searching. When I couldn’t find her, I mentally logged the whereabouts of the major players in the supernatural community. Something I did often now that I was no longer an invisible among them. My eyes met with the predatory gaze of a shifter. Sharp and homed in on his prey.
He was somewhat impressive. Okay, he was damn impressive. His movements had a hypnotic effect. Despite knowing it was part of shifter magnetism, it was difficult not to be captivated by it. Vampires had the ability to compel, but shifters possessed something akin to it. A primal allure that made people ignore the fact that many shifters were red flag central. Arrogant, commitment adverse, and it was generous tocall them uncompromising. Stubborn as hell was more apropos. Their “pack above all” mentality made them a problem for anyone who wasn’t part of the pack.
Jerking my eyes from the werewolf, I continued to scan the club. Its modern and industrial elements effortlessly formed a chic yet cozy interior. Soft, warm illumination balanced the industrial feel of the exposed beams. Plush, eggplant velvet upholstered chairs and benches lined the room and were complemented by cocoa- and blush-pink upholstery. Black, glossy surfaces rimmed with brass and lamps with an ambient light. The club’s style was also represented in the customers’ clothing that ranged from expensive tailored suits to bodycon dresses to streetwear, and everything in between.
I had made a crown of twists in the front of my hair, decorated with pearl-colored pins, the other half left out. The magic of a diffuser relaxed the curls and gave it maximum volume. The bold hairstyle inspired me to do the opposite with my clothing: a silk, loose-fitting peach single-strap shirt and cream-colored pants that sat low on my hips. And t-strap heels that added a few inches.
The bar had changed management since I left. They had expanded the space for dancing, added an impressive stage for the DJ, and created exclusive sections with their own server, bar, and someone monitoring access. The place was still a healthy mix of humans and supernaturals and exactly what I needed after yesterday. Friends, dancing, and copious amounts of liquor. I wasn’t opposed to sex. Though it would have to be human. Life was different as the Houses of Knight and Hollows liaison, and my personal relationships could have political ramifications. I ran my hand over my bare wrist. I’d left the affiliation bracelet at home, but it didn’t matter. The looks I got made it apparent I couldn’t leave my job at the door, like anormal job. The title wasn’t just a position; it was who I was. My identity.
Yesterday, after I left Corrine’s, I put my phone on do not disturb, and binge-watched TV with the intention that when I emerged things would be normal or the world would’ve devolved into chaos and I was going to empty out my safe, grab my go-bag, retrieve Amelia and her dad, get out of the city, and watch it all crash and burn from a distance. I knew it’d never go that smoothly. But it didn’t stop me from dreaming big and maintaining an up-to-date escape plan.
I spotted Amelia waving me over from a corner table. Making my way through the crowd, I dodged bodies as they breezed past me, until one caught my eye. A shimmer cascaded over him. The crowd gave him a small berth, navigating around him without acknowledgment. He was definitely the type of man who commanded attention. His tousled espresso hair was tapered low to the side, drawing the eyes to his sculpted features, warm-olive complexion, and cleft chin. A rugged beauty. Piercing hunter-green eyes locked with mine. His brows drew together, confusion sliding over his features. His lips parted to speak, snapped closed, and curled into a slow-roving smile. But the uncertainty remained. Before I could move closer, he shook his head and was gone. I scanned the area. Even with the preternatural speed of a vampire, he couldn’t have exited that fast.
I knew I hadn’t imagined him, and he definitely wasn’t a vampire. His surreal presence was different, as was his aura of magic. It was stifling, ominous, and explicitly distinct.
Demon? The thought of another demon made me wary. Never having placed myself in a situation that would give me an opportunity to test what their magic was like, I wouldn’t have known if this stranger was one. It would be a shame if he was. I made it my business to stay away from demons, but I was drawnto him. For several more moments, I continued scanning the bar for the alluring stranger with a mix of desperation to see him again and the need to quell the uncertainty that I’d imagined him. I couldn’t have imagined him. My imagination wasn’t that good.
Amelia’s wave in my direction was too emphatic for her to be sober. She flashed me a wide smile. Her hazel eyes were struggling to focus on me, and her tawny skin held a slight flush over her cheeks and the bridge of her nose.
“I thought you didn’t like werewolves,” she slurred, leaning into me as I slid onto the stool next to her.
“Not at all. I have a healthy mistrust of their intentions. And my pride can’t take being one of their conquests, made to fawn over them from a distance once I’ve been discarded.” I nudged my chin at the cluster of patrons watching the werewolves with wistful interest, who I suspected had been shifters’ toys at some point. Two days from a full moon, the wolves were more hedonistic than usual. If I were ever going to get involved with one, it wouldn’t be during this time. I didn’t believe in sharing or being shared, which was often the case during the full moon.
“But they are good to look at, aren’t they?” she teased. “This is the time to stay away from them for real unless you want to be pulled into one of their little orgies.” She didn’t seem as uninterested as she usually was when she discussed werewolves’ pre-full-moon antics. She had hit her drink limit.
