They clasped wrists. But glancing at Quindici, as he smiled at Layla again with a flash of fang, Layla knew Reginald had just made a deal with a devil on Adrian’s behalf. Perhaps Adrian would have condoned it, perhaps he wouldn’t have, but as Reginald led Layla away, she could still feel Quindici’s eyes on her. A devouring darkness eased out, slipping up her thigh. Stepping briskly, Layla shook it off, and she heard an echo of laughter in her mind.
“What was that all about?” Layla asked Reginald.
“Not here; not now.” He spoke softly, clearly not about to go into any detail about why he and Quindici had spoken. Angling her over to another group, Reginald stopped to speak with three squat mole-looking Owners with dark beady eyes. It was all banal pleasantries again and Layla was tuning out, when suddenly she felt a wash of interest move over Reginald’s shield from the old mole-man standing next to her in a black tux. With a lecherous gleam in his eyes, his hand lifted – fondling Layla’s breast through her clinging white silk.
It startled Layla so badly that she froze. No one else here had treated her like a piece of meat, and to have it so blatantly done suddenly made her heart hammer in shock. Without losing a beat, Reginald maneuvered Layla behind himself, corralling her into the greenery and cutting her off from the mole-man. The old lecher scowled, trying to strike through Reginald’s magics. But with a scathing glance, Reginald washed a wave of power so hard over the mole-man that he stumbled and nearly fell on his face.
“Try that again, Remi Dufresne,” Reginald spoke with menace, “and I will have you banned from this Hotel, I don’t care who you are. She is not your Assignation for the night. Nor would I ever allow her to accept an Assignation from you.”
“But she’s yours, Reginald.” The man startled, blinking his beady eyes at Reginald. “Sirens share their mates, do they not?”
“She is not mine. She is her own creature.” Reginald returned darkly. “And I wouldn’t share her with you even if the world was burning down. Test my patience again and watch it fail.”
Layla felt Reginald’s darkwater energy expand, filling the space between them like a nightmare of the deeps, swirling with terrible black currents. The mole-man was apparently not Reginald’s friend, not like the Vampire, and the man set his jaw in a furious scowl. But he wouldn’t push past Reginald’s body or his inundating magics, and Layla felt relief flood her. Reginald had skills in courtly grace and charm, but he was also a vicious power to be reckoned with, Layla realized – a dominant in any situation.
The mole-man backed down. With a snort, he turned away, plucking a glass of champagne from the gilded tray of a Caterer and tossing it back. Moving to Reginald’s side, Layla slid her fingers around the arm of his embroidered coat. He glanced over, his golden eyebrows lifted as if asking what she needed.
She mouthedthank you– meaning it for the second time tonight.
A small smile flickered over his lips, as if it pleased him that she had thanked him. But then he changed. All of a sudden, Reginald’s pale blue gaze pressed hers with a deep thoughtfulness. Layla felt him flare his magic then, flashing a white-capped power through the entire pavilion. All around, heads turned with eyebrows raised. His demonstration of power arrested the full attention of the room, and once talk had silenced, Reginald moved. Lowering slowly to one knee, he knelt before Layla like a knight with his lady.
Raising her fingers to his full lips, he gave them a gentle kiss – letting that kiss linger as he watched her with his pale blue eyes.
Layla blinked. All around, people stared with open mouths, shock rioting through their magics, followed quickly by intrigue. Layla saw Dusk’s lips fall open in astonishment a table away, his sapphire eyes wide. Next to him, the Madame was smiling with a subtle, catlike delight in her enormous 1950’s peacock ballgown made of real peacock feathers. Layla realized from their reactions that the Head Courtier was doing her a grave honor, showing his obeisance in such a high-level crowd. Demonstrating to the Hotel Owner’s Board that she was of elevated position, and not to be trifled with. It was like what Hunter had once done for her as Adam Rhakvir among the Dragon clans, but far more.
Adam had held standing in his own clan, but Reginald held standing among the highest elite of the Twilight Realm.
As he rose, Reginald lifted Layla’s hand, his piercing gaze sweeping the assembly with a subtle challenge. The mole-man scowled, though his demeanor was broken as Reginald’s glance found him – his eyes skittering away from the Royal Siren’s command. At last, the party continued, people breaking into chatter though numerous eyes still watched Layla and Reginald. Reginald began escorting Layla over to a statuesque Faunus woman with sleek tawny fur and corkscrewing horns with gold torques curling up them – when a smooth baritone voice suddenly made the Head Courtier turn.
“Reginald Durant. Still slumming it for money with the plebes, little brother?”
Layla’s eyebrows rose at the slur as she turned with Reginald – to find herself facing a man who could have been Reginald’s twin he was so impossibly handsome. And as the two stared at each other, hatred seething between them, Layla marked it for the only thing it could have been.
The hatred of family.
CHAPTER 3 – OCEAN
The Hotel Owner who looked like Reginald’s twin was handsome in the extreme. If Reginald had ditched the 1700’s couture, he would have ended up looking something like this man; about the same height and build with the same bright gold hair, but cut short and well-styled. He looked like a male model straight out of a Calvin Klein underwear ad in his modern charcoal suit jacket and expensive silk details, with Reginald’s full lips and austere high cheekbones. But where Reginald had ice-blue eyes that could change to the color of stormy oceans, this man had pure-white irises with a ring of pale blue around them – that made his impossible beauty look even colder than Reginald’s.
“Bastien.” Disdain dripped from Reginald’s lips like cool poison as he faced the man Layla understood now to be his brother. “Done fucking your way through all of Greece, plying anyone with power to your manipulations?”
“Greece ispasséthese days.” Bastien gave a biting smile, vicious though still somehow classy as he gestured with his dry martini at his brother. “You should keep up with your Lineage’s whereabouts, Reginald. It’s all about Ibiza these days. Or Maui. Or Cabo. Sirens are anywhere there’s a high-end beach party, except rotting away at this stuffy old Hotel sleeping with grannies for cash.”
“Hardly.” Reginald’s gaze devoured his brother as if he would eat Bastien alive.
“And who is thiswinningcreature?” Reginald’s brother turned to Layla with a haughty lift of his golden eyebrows – just like Reginald.
“Layla Price, Royal Dragon Bind of the Moroccan Desert Dragons. May I introduce my brother, Sebastien Durant, Royal and Clan Second of the North Sea Sirens.”
“Enchanté.” Bastien reached out to take Layla’s hand, but Reginald swiftly blocked it, something furious flashing through his gaze.
“Touch her and lose your hand.”
“It’s just a simple kiss.” But Bastien’s gaze skewered Reginald like a harpoon, a scary kind of hatred in it as he flashed a nasty smile and sipped his martini.
“No touch is simple with you.” Reginald snarled, something Layla had never heard the exquisitely composed Reginald do before. From the tension now bristling between them, Layla understood that Bastien had significant Siren-abilities through touch, and had meant Layla harm. “As Head Courtier of this Hotel, I forbid you to lay a hand on Layla while you are here.”
“Andyouare limiting your potential, little brother, masquerading as a perfumed fuck-boy all these years.” Bastien set his jaw, his white eyes glittering with malice and haughty disdain. “Taking on ingénues to train when you should be out claiming your birthright as a North Sea Siren. Have you forgotten your clan, Reginald?”
