“This must all seem quite impossible to you, doesn’t itchérie?” Madame Voulouer’s purring voice interrupted Layla’s intrigue.
“What seems impossible?” Layla spoke, distracted by a bird-man. At last eight feet tall and entirely naked, he was covered in iridescent cobalt down, glossy as satin. Raising a bright blue crest of feathers as he passed, his golden lips twisted up in a smile as he gave Layla averyintrigued look from his stunning gold eyes. She heard a call of birds in her mind, like she’d walked into a vaulted rainforest, and he laughed with delight as he continued on, his laugh somewhere between a man’s and a whooping bird-call.
“The Twilight Realm!” Madame Voulouer waved a hand at all the opulence and strangeness. “My dear! Did our darling Adrian not inform you ofanythingyou’ll encounter here?”
“I didn’t have much opportunity to speak with Adrian,” Layla spoke, internally fuming at him though she was delighted by everything around her.
“Well! We have a lot of catching up to do then! There will be time enough for that, don’t you worry.”
Madame Voulouer’s tiger-eyes glinted jovially in the morning light. The bright morning was reflected all around by silvered mirrors and cherubic gilded sconces. Which Layla saw were not cherubs at all now that she passed closer to them, but coiling dragons, hoary satyrs, stunning sphinxes, and far more mythical beasts writhing with wanton delight up every column. Leading them deeper into the palace and back toward the gardens, the Madame mounted a grand curved staircase set with a crimson carpet and enormous banners, taking them up to the second level. At the landing, she led Layla to a drawing-room with gilded doors emblazoned with the house ‘R’ and crown but additionally twined with gilded dragons, then pushed in.
The large drawing-room had a lovely series of second-floor windows overlooking the gardens and was blessedly free of carnal activities – though beasts in coitus did writhe up every marble pillar and arch. Guiding Layla by their linked arms, the Madame took her toward an enormous fireplace simmering with a low blaze, and a parlor-area set with red velvet chaises and elegant Persian rugs. A spread of hors d’oeuvres covered a stout dining table, and four Guards in crimson livery stood at attention nearby.
“Sit, darling!” The Madame spoke as they arrived at the parlor-area. “Make yourself comfortable. We’ll have your entrance interview in just a moment, once everyone arrives. Please excuse me for a tic, won’t you dear?”
The Madame indicated a tall gilded chair by the fireplace, one of six throne-style chairs set in a circle there, and Layla settled on to it gratefully as the Madame moved off to have a few low words with the Guards. As Layla sat, the handsome man in blue that had been with the Madame earlier whisked in through the double-doors. Coming swiftly to a seat in one of the chairs, his icy gaze was severe and watchful as it pinned Layla.
The Madame returned, sitting next to the man in blue and beginning to speak with him as another woman entered. Tall with flowing white hair and a one-shoulder white silk gown, her skin was filled with glowing silver light. Floating over with dancelike steps, she took a seat on Layla’s left with an ethereal smile, her presence electrifying yet deeply soothing. As Layla stared, she saw the woman actually glowed, like silver starlight shimmered in waves through her body. Reaching out, the woman’s hand swirled with starlight as she accepted a crystal chalice of a milky beverage from a Guard bringing around refreshments on a silver tray. The Guard offered a chalice to Layla but she raised a hand to decline – when the silver woman turned moonlit opal eyes upon her.
Take what is offered, the woman’s sultry voice eased through Layla’s mind like a rush of starlight caught in a flowing brook.Enjoy the hospitality of our grand establishment. Today you are our guest, Layla Price, and get to experience our Hotel as such.
Astounded by that voice in her mind, Layla accepted the crystal chalice with its white liqueur. As soon as the beverage touched Layla’s lips, it was as if she inhaled the essence of the full moon and all the stars in the night sky. Flooded with a bright-dark ecstasy, it was all Layla could do to not reel in her seat as she swallowed. Waves of heat and chill pleasure rolled through her, and Layla shivered from the effect. It reminded her of when she’d done Ecstasy once in college, an expansive sensation that both heightened her focus but also eased her in a deliciously languid way.
As she was enjoying the beverage, a man in a slim dove-grey Italian suit suddenly stepped into the room at a brisk clip. Amazingly striking, his bright sapphire gaze found Layla as he took a seat – and for some reason, Layla couldn’t look away. Waves of heat flowed through her just feeling this man’s presence in the room, her skin flushing strangely from her wrist beneath the hamsa-cuff all the way to her chest – and not from her beverage. Layla’s face suddenly felt hot: his presence alone had made her blush. She stared at him, arrested by a combination of his ridiculous handsomeness and his strikingly unique appearance. If her attention had been captured by Adrian when he’d entered the gallery all those weeks ago, Layla’s focus was equally arrested by this man – who glanced at her with a subtle, roguish smile, as if he knew exactly what she was thinking – before settling in and turning to speak with the Madame on his left.
Layla knew at once that he wasn’t entirely human. Though most of him looked normal, his light-olive skin had a slightly dusky hue to it, like a subtle shade of blue-grey. His body was cut like an Olympic soccer-player, and his beautiful bone structure looked classically Greek or Egyptian, though subtle ridges of iridescent midnight scales flowed from his temples and high cheekbones like a dragon’s hide. As he reached for a chalice of moon-beverage, Layla saw the backs of his hands were ridged also, though the sides of his fingers and palms were smooth. His short dark hair was combed back in waves, its artful styling flowing with a sudden wash of midnight iridescence as Layla watched. His baritone voice was brisk and sensual, his lips a smooth pearl-blue color – and his voice seemed to emit a rolling vibration as he spoke.
That vibration was incredible – so low it was sub-sonic, something not heard but felt. Rumbling out from where he sat, his vibration shuddered up through Layla’s ankles and seat with a delicious, sexual teasing. Seeing her watch him, he turned his bright blue eyes her way with a teasing lift of one dark eyebrow, all the while not losing his conversation with the Madame. Giving another sly smile, he raised his glass to Layla, the bright color of his incredible eyes accented by a sapphire blue silk tie and a canary yellow pocket-square.
Layla sipped her beverage, trying to roll back her exquisite arousal at the dragon-man’s presence. She felt more than heard him chuckle, returning to his conversation as Layla flushed, unable to stop whatever he was doing. His vibrations still rumbled her, still teased her body with every word he spoke. No one else in the room seemed affected by it. As if he toyed with her in a tremendously pleasant fashion that was for her alone – sensual enough to make Layla flush and shudder, completely unable to focus.
Trying to maintain her equilibrium, Layla watched the next person arrive – the towering blonde Guardswoman who had been out on the promenade with the Madame earlier. Tall and commanding, the woman moved into the room with a brisk stride, eschewing the proffered moon-beverage and swiftly taking a seat on Layla’s right, one hand on her rapier so it didn’t bash into her chair. Her eyes were the purest lavender Layla had ever seen, her Swedish bone structure impeccable. Bound in a French braid, her blonde hair cascaded down to her butt, though she was the most normal-looking individual in the room besides Layla.
She glanced at Layla as she sat. At first she gave a crisp nod and a smile, but then her lavender eyes suddenly widened. Her blonde brows scowled, and Layla heard her snort. The Guardswoman’s eyes snapped to the dragon-man across the circle of chairs, pinning him severely.
“Dusk! I swear to god…” The woman snapped as she crossed her arms and stared him down. Layla felt something prickle the air around the woman like a volcano of daggers ready to erupt. It was suddenly hard to breathe in the room and heads turned, everyone watching the Guardswoman stare down the dragon-man. With an easy laugh, he lifted his chalice at her. Layla’s sensual torment ceased abruptly, his vibrations gone as she took a deep breath, relieved.
“Rikyava. Calm down.” The dragon-man spoke. “I was just testing her a little.”
“Test later. Be civil now.” The Guardswoman snapped back frostily.
He chuckled again, giving the woman a cheeky salute with his chalice as if she had won their little game, for now. But Layla frowned at their words, feeling irate that he had been testing her with something she knew nothing about and couldn’t have prepared for. It was yet another reminder that she had entered an entirely different reality, and Layla made a mental note to control her temper, even though all she really wanted to do was give the dragon-man a severe piece of her mind. She didn’t know how the rules worked here, and technically this was her entrance interview – she had no idea yet who these people were and how high up in the Hotel they were.
Or if any of them were going to be her boss in Concierge Services.
Layla had a sinking feeling as she glanced at the dragon-man. He made eye contact, lifting a sexy eyebrow and holding her gaze as if he was ready to burn down Rome with his dark allure. Even though he wasn’t making that rumbling vibration anymore, Layla felt herself flush. Setting her jaw, she gave him a good scowl. She’d be damned if she’d allow herself to be attracted to him – even though she was.
A lot.
He laughed, chuckling and shaking his head as he took a smoked salmon hors d’oeuvres from a tray of refreshments being served. Small talk passed as people ate small bites, and even with the moon-liqueur calming her, Layla found herself acutely nervous. Tension gripped her; the worry of being at a first interview and not knowing how she would perform. She knew she technically had the job, but there was something formal about this gathering – as if everyone here was evaluating her, their subtle attention taking her in from sable curls to stiletto heels. She suddenly realized she would be living at the Hotel among these strange people, and she didn’t know anyone. Her stomach cramped and Layla turned down the proffered trays of small bites, even though they looked better than the top chefs in Seattle could have made.
The silver lady beside Layla smiled, reaching out to give Layla’s hand a reassuring squeeze as if she could feel Layla’s nerves. Talk flowed between those in the circle, though no-one was speaking to Layla. One chair across the circle remained empty, and Layla had the feeling that the interview attendees were waiting for someone. But it had been ten minutes since the last person had arrived, and Layla sensed that the rest of the group were vastly irritated that someone was late – even the Madame glancing to the doors and scowling with a pretty, feline grace.
“Forgive me ladies and gentlemen, for my lateness!”
All heads turned at the smooth baritone voice that suddenly announced a new arrival. And sweeping into the hall came the last person Layla expected to see. Hands thrust in the pockets of his charcoal pinstriped slacks, the sleeves of his crisp white collared shirt rolled up his forearms and his exquisite black oxfords well-polished, in strode Adrian Rhakvir with his incredible aqua eyes, blistering energy, and crimson dragon tattoo. Hauling out the last seat, he sank into it with an aura of utter command, crossing one ankle over his knee. Receiving a chalice of moon-liqueur from a Guardsman, he downed it. Snapping his fingers for another, it was replaced – and when that had been finished also, Layla’s employer at last set his chalice down upon a gilded side-table.
The doors of the solar boomed shut; the Guards had left the room. Only the six attendees remained in the circle of chairs, and Adrian Rhakvir gazed around them, his searing aqua eyes raking those assembled like a burning brand. A wave of cinnamon-jasmine spice eased through the air, flooding Layla’s senses as his incredible eyes pierced her last – and the tiniest smile curled his lips.
