“Do you think I’m in danger around Reginald right now?” Layla looked up at Dusk.
“Not at the moment.” Dusk shook his head, though his brows were furrowed. “He’s got his emotions on lockdown, and the Cathedral is helping. Plus, Rikyava’s stationed a cadre of Guards outside with shift-stalling abilities and Dragon-stopping weapons. If anything gets out of hand, all you need to do is shout.”
“Where will you be?”
“Adrian needs me. In between healing sessions, we’re strategizing about how to deal with the Owners Board.” Dusk smiled softly. Reaching out, he stroked one of Layla curls back from her neck. “So many problems… so few of us to solve them.”
“Us? Am I on your problem-solving roster now?” Layla lifted a cheeky eyebrow at him.
“You took a big risk to get Adrian back for us. Not just for you and me, but for our entire Hotel.” Dusk’s gaze was grave. “If what you did wasn’t the epitome of problem-solving… then I don’t know what is.”
Smiling, Layla stepped forward. Dusk’s arms wrapped around her as they kissed, long and delicious. When he pulled away, his eyes were shining, and Layla could feel his lovely diamond light shimmer through her bones as the same refracted through his artful dark hair.
“I’ll come find you up in your rooms when I’m done.” She murmured.
“I’ll be waiting. But Adrian’s in my bed, so no hanky-panky.” Dusk grinned.
“Unless he wants to join in. As I recall, we’re still missing out on the little three-way we started before everything went to shit…”
“Everything’s still shit,” Dusk brushed his lips over hers with a chuckle and a sexy smile. “But I’ll never turn down a three-way. Not if you’re at the center of it. I’ll talk to Adrian today. You never know…”
“I want to know.”
“I’m sure you do.”
But something complex moved through Dusk’s eyes then, as his fingers stroked her curls. A wave of refraction passed through his scales as he watched her, his lips turning up in a sad, wry smile. “I do hate it that you have so many men competing for your attention, you know.” He spoke softly. “But to restrain a Royal Dragon Bind from having powerful men is like cutting a Crystal Dragon off from the earth. If there’s one thing I’ve learned from Hunter’s story, it’s that denying those Binds is almost a fate worse than death for you. I don’t want you to become like Hunter, Layla. Even if it means sharing you, I will do whatever it takes to make sure you stay as bright and beautiful as you are right now. And never become dark, like him.”
“Thank you.” Layla’s smile was a match for his, sweet and sad. An echo of what she’d experienced with Hunter’s memories hit her, a dark sensation like a pit opening up inside her. But that was a place of deadliness and cold rage, not a place of love. Held in Dusk’s strong arms, Layla was able to banish it, lifting up to kiss his soft lips.
“It won’t be this way forever.” She spoke quietly. “I’ll get control of my magic, and then Binding lovers will be my choice, not the magic’s. When I do… you’re the first person I’m going to come find. And we’re going to have someseriousalone time together. I promise.”
His smile twisted, though that sadness still lingered in his bright blue eyes. “Don’t make promises your ass can’t cash, Layla Price.”
“I’m not. I mean it.”
He sobered, watching her. And then smiled more naturally, cheekiness returning to his eyes. “Off you go – to the Siren’s cave. But when you’re done training with him and your magics are under control, Layla, you’re mine. I’m going to haul you off to Barbados and we’re going to fuck on the beach and drink rum right out of the bottle for a month straight. We clear?”
“Crystal.”
Layla grinned at him and Dusk grinned back. Setting her palm to his cheek, she lifted up and kissed him once more, then turned and headed for the door. Taking a deep breath, she stepped out into the hall and shut the door firmly behind her. Hotel Guards posted on her door came to attention, stepping forward as if to follow her, but Layla waved them off. They glanced at each other but hung back, and Layla set out.
The Hotel was bright in wintertime. As she headed down the opulent French Baroque hall with its writhing porticos of Dragons, Satyrs, and sundry, Layla glanced out the vaulted windows. Everything was bright, fresh snow reflecting the light until the entire Hotel glowed from every gilded rail and silvered mirror. Heading down a grand crimson-carpeted stairway to the first floor, she pushed out through an ornate double-door into the gardens.
Snow created fanciful shapes of the winter-dormant topiaries. The walkways had been swept clean and salted, and Layla took a flagstone path in her high heels with confidence. Walking past ponds and fountains, Layla circumnavigated beds of dormant roses and barren lilac trees. Though the vegetation was now dead, fairly-lights twinkled everywhere, lighting the paths and the snow and the bare trees. It made the gardens luminous in the grey day, and Layla knew it would be even more spectacular at night.
Rounding a row of hedges, she came to the Crystal Cathedral where she had once nearly shifted into her Dragon at Samhain. Fourteen Guards in uniform with a full regalia of weapons were posted on the door, each holding a long black spear made of ebony wood and tipped with an obsidian blade. They were the same spears Layla had seen in Rikyava’s office, the ones that could stop a Dragon. Golden sigils ran through them, and something about those sigils reminded Layla now of the script she’d seen moving through the walls of the Intercessoria interrogation room.
Stepping to the doors, enormous and fashioned of rose quartz, citrine, and aventurine, Layla nodded to the Guard. They must have been expecting her, because they nodded back, then stepped forward to open the doors. Layla entered and the doors were shut behind her. The vast space of the Cathedral was open, all the ballroom furniture moved to one side and stacked behind a series of silk dividers. In the center of the hall, ringed by the crystal columns that supported the vaulted roof, sat a four-post mahogany bed, an armoire, two bedside tables, and a breakfasting table.
The only person in all of that enormous space was Reginald. The Head Courtier sat at the table eating and reading a newspaper, dressed in a highly elegant ensemble. Cobalt rather than sky-blue, his sleek outfit was a mixture of Victorian and modern attire. A cravatte of white silk was set with a diamond and pearl pin at the open collar of his shirt. Slender black riding-breeches were tucked into tall black boots shined to perfection, a cobalt riding-jacket gracing his lean frame. His waistcoat was quilted cobalt silk set with pearls, a gold pocket watch flashing on a chain. Bound half-back, his golden hair shone in the morning light that flooded through the high crystal vaults, his chiseled face exquisite.
Hearing the doors, he lifted his gaze from the newspaper, piercing her. As Layla stared at him, undone by his incredible beauty, he gave her a subtle smile, his pale blue eyes flashing with golden sunlight and grey mist. Layla shut her mouth, heat flooding her as her Dragon gave an eager roil through her veins. Her dreams came roaring back, smashing into her like a tidal wave.
Frozen to the spot, she couldn’t move, couldn’t even breathe.
With a wry smile, Reginald lowered his newspaper and rose, moving towards her with his dancer’s grace. Sidling close, he didn’t reach out to kiss her hand, but instead slid his long fingers around her waist – gathering her in. Flooded with desire and roaring with bourbon-orange scent, Layla could only stare up at him stupidly as he held her close. Gazing down into her eyes, Reginald gave a soft laugh, a look of pure pleasure lifting his handsome face.
“If you looked at me like that everyday, I would die a happy man.” He spoke quietly.
