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Lana purses her lips and narrows her eyes. “You aren’t welcome here. Go be a Shadow King to someone who wants your overbearing, pompous ass—” She snaps her mouth shut, clearly aware we’re gaping at her. Lana Anderson is the poised PR queen of the family, and it’s rare to see her in a fit of…well, anything. “Shoo. Go away.”

Shadow King.The nickname she mentioned the other day in Dubrovnik finally registers.

Elias Kent. Everyone in New York City and beyond knows who he is. Rumor has it even the mafia is afraid of him. I don’t want to find out why that’s the case.

Low chuckles rumble from his chest, the mobster clearly unfazed. “Can’t. Promised your brother I’d watch over you and your…friend.”

He glances at Bree, who blanches and shrinks behind Lana.

I frown. They seem to know each other. But why would Rex’s companion know the mobster I’ve heard so much about? And why would Rex ask Elias to keep an eye out on Bree?

Nothing makes sense.

“Which brother? This is what I get for having four ridiculous, overprotective brothers. It better not be Rex, because if anything, I look out for him. Is it Maxwell? I swear to God—” Lana tosses her hands up in the air then drags a bewildered Bree with her, probably to escape Elias and to grab drinks.

Elias tsks under his breath, his hands knotted behind his back. He takes a step in their direction but suddenly swivels back to me. “Dr. Lin, we haven’t officially met before. I’m Elias Kent.”

My breath lodges in my throat, the hairs standing on the back of my neck. He really doesn’t need to introduce himself.

But how does he know who I am? And how did he even recognize me in costume?

I swallow and give him a curt smile.

He smirks, as if enjoying seeing me squirm.

“Thank you for taking care of him,” he murmurs. “If you need anything, I’m at your service.”

Then he nods and disappears after my friends.

What the hell? Who is he referring to? And why would I ever need his services?

Questions pinball inside my mind. Why is everyone speaking in code? Bree, Rex, and now, Elias.

But as I stand there, surrounded by dancers and partygoers, I feel it.

A charged current threading the air, heavy and electric.

My breath quickens, my pulse roars in my ears. I turn around, trying to locate the source of my unease.

The shapes of the crowd blur together, dark shadows shifting sinuously, made even more eerie by the white mist swirling in the air.

The hairs stand on my forearms.

And that’s when I spot him.

A tall, imposing dark-haired man draped in shadows in the corner, his back against the wall, arms crossed over his chest. His thick hair, which I know is as soft as it looks, is effortlessly tousled, giving off a debonair air of sex and charm. Muscles ripple under his dark coat as he slowly unfurls himself.

The heat in his eyes ratchets up as he catches me staring at him. His face, half hidden in a black mask with gold veins, sparks awareness in me.

I’d recognize him anywhere.

My chest heaves, the corset on my dress feeling too tight, and I inch backward.

Devil. Predator. Monster.

His lips slowly hitch up, then he prowls toward me.

Chapter Thirty