But it wasn’t enough. Layla’s magic was rampant, careening into Dusk, her Dragon roaring to be touched by a mate long denied. Like two enormous beasts coiling through each other, Layla felt Dusk’s magic surge to hers like a tower of crystal being thrust from the center of the earth. Layla shuddered; a wave of etheric golden flame burst from her. Heads turned and Owners raised eyebrows as Dusk shuddered – his gaze locked to Layla’s and a bright cord of power braiding between their bodies in a golden-diamond rush.
Reginald plucked her hand from Dusk’s in a brisk maneuver. Gripping Layla’s wrist in cold fingers, he stepped between them, parting their Bound magics like the prow of an ice-breaking ship. Holding Layla’s wrist, he poured his Siren-song through her bones as he stared her down, flooding her with the drowning ocean. She jolted, but managed to stay standing as Dusk’s Bind to her was sluiced back.
“That is enough of that.” Reginald murmured low. Turning to Dusk, he regarded the Hotel’s Head Concierge with a frigid stare. “Touch her again, Dusk Arlohaim, and face my wrath. Layla needs composure tonight. Not your idiot antics.”
“Idiot antics my ass.” Dusk’s sapphire gaze sparked with hot diamond-light as he sipped his bourbon on the rocks, trying to cover a deep shudder. Fierce anger shone in his eyes as he stepped close to Reginald with a falsely pleasant smile. “If this party tonight wasn’t so important to the Paris Hotel, I’d be kicking your ass all the way to China right now for your machinations this past month, Reginald. Layla’s not yours.”
“And she’s not yours again until she isquitedone with me.”
“Kids, please.” Though breathing hard, Layla had her wits about her enough now to see that Owners were staring, trying to figure out what was happening between the Head Concierge, Head Courtier, and the unknown ingénue. “If this party is as important to Adrian and our Hotel as you say it is, let’s get it together, shall we?”
“You’re right, Layla.” Dusk spoke briskly, ever the problem-solver. Pulling his magics back and stowing them solidly behind a barrier of invisible crystal shielding, Dusk took a deep breath. Turning to Reginald, he raised his glass and smoothed his face into afuck-youpleasantry, though his low voice was snarling. “Here’s to you, asshole. I’ll be nice tonight, but only for Adrian’s sake – and Layla’s. Shall we mingle and talk up our Hotel?”
“Indeed.”
With haughty grace, Reginald did not respond to Dusk’s furious attitude as he took up Layla’s hand again. Turning his back, Reginald led Layla away. But though their little show was over, owners were watching on all sides now as Reginald stopped to pluck a fresh glass of chardonnay from a caterer’s tray for Layla, then took a red Bordeaux for himself. Reginald nodded at a tall, handsome Vampire with dark black eyes and sleek chestnut hair who was watching them, and angled Layla in that direction. Dressed in a classic tuxedo with long tails from the Victorian era, the Vampire was lean in a way that might have been spectral had he not had such beautifully masculine features and full, smiling lips. As Reginald and Layla arrived, tendrils of sucking darkness licked into Layla. She didn’t know how to combat magic like that, but Reginald did; with a wave of his hand, he sluiced back that tendril.
“Your abilities against my kind have improved, protégé, since I saw you last.” The Vampire spoke to Reginald with an amused smile on his full lips. The affable smile showed the tips of his vicious canines, and Layla was certain it was intentional.
“It has been a long while since I was at the Florence Hotel under your tutelage, Quinn.” Reginald spoke back, though he was peaceable. Turning to Layla he said, “Layla Price, may I introduce the Barone Quindici DaPonti, Master of the Dark Haven of Florence, and an old mentor of mine at the Red Letter Hotel Florence. Quinn, this is Layla Price, Concierge of the Paris Hotel and Royal Dragon Bind of the Desert Dragons of Morocco and the Mediterranean.”
It wasn’t lost on Layla that Reginald had not mentioned to the Vampire she was training as a Courtesan. She hadn’t known Reginald had worked at the Florence Hotel, but she didn’t get to ask about it as Reginald made a gesture, indicating Layla should make the Barone’s acquaintance more formally. She did, dipping into a slight curtsey and nodding in the manner Reginald had been teaching her. “Barone DaPonti. A pleasure.”
The chestnut-haired Vampire laughed in a pleasant baritone, his wineglass sloshing a little too thickly as he did so – blood, not wine. “Ms. Price, excellently well-met. And you may call me Quindici, or Quinn. Many do.”
“Quindici.” Layla rose, cocking her head. “Were you the fifteenth child in your family?”
“Technically, yes.” The Vampire Barone flashed fang again as he smiled pleasantly. “I was the fifteenth creation of my Sire, the Dark Temptress Emiliana DiClario, formerly of Rome though now long dead and dusted. She had no time for nomenclature, and so her children are named according to turn order.”
“It’s Vampire custom to take a new name when you are turned.” Reginald supplied mildly.
“Well, I suppose numbering you would keep you all straight.” Layla mused.
Her words made the Barone laugh again. He seemed to be of a pleasant nature, though the intensity of his presence indicated a highly calculating mind beneath it. Layla suddenly found herself wondering if the laughter and smiling wasn’t a calculation also, as Quindici turned sober, watching the crowd as he addressed Reginald. “There are a number of Owners here tonight vying for Adrian’s job, Reginald. If he fucks up even once more… I think they’ll have it. Or you might.”
“I no longer desire the leadership of this Hotel, Quinn, as you are quite aware.” Reginald responded with a glance at Layla. They had suddenly delved into a very serious conversation and Layla perked – none of the other Owners having gone into this particular topic. “Do you have names I may relay to Adrian?”
“Lawrence Koss of the European Fumaroles,” the Vampire spoke low, nodding subtly to a man twenty paces distant, a solid Germanic fellow with brick-red scales cascading from his temples and hands. “Visiniya Yffe of the Arctic Selkies,” he nodded to a woman in a gown of white seal fur, her long white hair cascading down her back. “Bintni Rabii of the Kali-Makti,” he nodded to a stunning woman with black skin and heated red eyes, built like a brick house with long black hair and a necklace of skulls draping between her breasts.
“Anyone else?” Reginald asked with a glance at the Vampire.
“Well, besides you-know-who,” Quindici grinned at Reginald with a sly look, “there is of course, myself.”
“You?” Reginald raised a doubtful eyebrow at the Vampire.
“Would you and Adrian rather have anyone else head up this Hotel if Adrian is dismissed?” The Vampire murmured slyly, a knowing glint in his black eyes. “Tell me that either Adrian or you have an ally amongst the Owners closer than I, and I will gladly back down. But last I counted, though your standing amongst the Owners is high, protégé, your allies among the inner circle of the Board are few – and Adrian’s are fewer. To which of us may go the safekeeping of your dearest beloveds should Adrian fall, I wonder?”
The Vampire’s pointed gaze at Layla was obvious, and Reginald scowled. “What’s in it for you, Quinn?”
“Adrian and you have… ample income. And, from what I hear, Adrian pays those he employs for more…clandestineoperations.” The Vampire examined his exquisitely-buffed nails as his eyes glittered with dark pleasure.
“You need mercenaries?” Reginald’s eyebrows lifted. “What for?”
“The Dark Haven of Pisa needs a little… change of operations. To be brought in line with my Dark Haven of Florence, ideally. I do not wish to waste my own Vampires for such a venture, but use a little more… firepower. So?”
Taking a harsh breath, Reginald glanced to Layla. She saw something uncertain move through his pale eyes, before he turned back to the Vampire. “Your word. If I tell Adrian to get what you need, and anything happens to Adrian, that you’ll do everything in your power to keep this Hotel and everyone in it safe.”
“On my maker’s ashes, I swear it.” The Vampire smiled slyly.
