“She was a hell of a woman,” Rikyava smiled, her violet eyes pleased. “Mimi had an amazing talent to her Royal Dragon Bind magic. She was able to soothe people with her singing. She could walk into any room and sing, calming clans who were already murdering each other and get them to stop. Mimi used her ability as aChiari drachans-siarto convince people to come to peace. She might have lived longer, if someone hadn’t murdered the flower of her days and broken her heart. Adrian’s mother and your grandmother werequiteclose. If you know what I mean.”
Layla blinked. “Are you telling me that Adrian’s mother and my grandmother were lovers?”
“Adrian’s mother Juliette was born in Paris. She had a lot of lovers,” Rikyava shrugged, her gaze level. “From the stories, she and Mimi always managed to find each other, year in and year out. You add it up. Were you aware that your grandmother was over three hundred years old?”
“Excuse me?” Layla’s mouth fell open; her head reeled despite the food sitting nicely in her stomach now.
“Indeed. Most of us in the Twilight Realm have far longer lifespans than humans.” Rikyava’s smile was wry. “It’s not uncommon for Dragons to live many hundreds of years. Though we do tend to kill each other off long before then.”
“Holy shit.” Layla stared at the Guardswoman, not sure if that was supposed to be funny.
Slinging her boots off the ottoman, Rikyava slapped her hands on the armrests of her chair, then rose. “Well, I need to get back to my duties. Settle in and I’ll be back to escort you later for tonight’s welcome dinner and ball. Oh, before I forget. Bathing-chamber’s through there,” she gestured to a gilded archway near the ample canopied bed, “meals are brought three times a day and maid service comes just after noon, so if you have valuables you don’t want snooped through, you’ve got your safe.”
Stepping over to a silvered mirror mounted on the wall near the canopied bed, Rikyava beckoned for Layla. Rising and moving to the mirror, Layla lifted her hand and Rikyava touched Layla’s fingers to the antique silvered glass. The mirror rippled, then disappeared, leaving only the gilded frame. Behind was a state-of the-art brushed steel mini-safe with a black identification panel, and Rikyava beckoned.
“Retinal scan and breath analysis. Get on in there.”
Moving close, Layla opened her eyes wide and a silver beam of light glided over her vision from the ID panel. She opened her mouth and breathed on the sleek black panel and felt a small fan whir, sucking in her exhalation. Something chirped inside the panel and then the front of the safe clicked open, revealing an empty strongbox of sleek obsidian stone.
“Why breath analysis? Aren’t fingerprints traditional?” Layla turned to the Guardswoman.
“Not here.” Rikyava grinned. “Your breath and scent carry your own personal strain of magic. It’s far more individual than fingerprints – and because of Royal Dragons like Adrian, far more reliable. Royal Dragons with Adrian’s abilities can always change the way they look, and their iris patterns and fingerprints if they’re adept enough. But they have one helluva time changing the way they smell. Remember that, if you’re trying to figure out if the person you’re speaking to is Adrian. He can shift his scent pretty well, but he slips up when he’s aroused.” Rikyava winked at Layla.
“Good to know.” Layla laughed, grateful for the Guardswoman’s heads-up and not missing her innuendo.
Turning, Rikyava headed for the door. Pausing with her fingers on the handle, she faced Layla. “Dusk will come for you in the morning to start your work in Concierge Services. You’re lucky he’s training you. He’s an asshole sometimes, but no one knows the position better. He’ll test you, but at the end of the day, you can trust him. Just please refrain from sticking a knife in his gut. I’d have a lot of clean-up to do.”
“Thank you, Rikyava, for everything,” Layla spoke, grateful to the no-nonsense Guardswoman for giving her insight on this new world. It wasn’t lost on Layla that it had been at the Madame’s orders. An issue Adrian could have rectified, had he been willing to be more straight with her. It seemed like everyone was more willing to tell Layla about the Twilight Realm than he was, and about themselves.
She wondered if it was a Desert Dragon thing – or if it was just Adrian.
“Get settled,” Rikyava smiled, brisk but kind. “Your welcome dinner will be served at five o’clock and I’ll come back to escort you. Might want to change your gown, everybody’s seen that one. Also, you may not want to wander yet, might see a few things you’re not ready for. But you’ve got a lovely balcony overlooking the garden if you want to take in the view. See you in a while.” Rikyava gestured to the vaulted windows, then clacked her bootheels with a sharp nod and was out the door, closing it behind her.
Moving to the larger-than-kingsize canopied bed, Layla sank down upon the cobalt silk coverlet. Reaching out, she stroked the silk jacquard drapes gathered by a golden cord at the mahogany bedpost. A gilded dragon snarled at her, winding its way down the length of the post. Looking around, Layla finally took in her entire room, noting that the ample apartment was dragon-themed. Ancient Chinese paintings of dragons in gilded frames adorned the walls. A massive cobalt and gold carpet beneath the bed writhed with a Japanese dragon. Dragons snarled from the gilded sconces and curled up floor-stand candelabra. And a massive, snarling winged European dragon was carven into the lofty mahogany lintel of the fireplace.
Apparently, everything in the room she’d been given as a new Hotel employee reflected Layla’s Lineage – though she had no idea just what that Lineage meant quite yet.
CHAPTER 18 – INTRODUCTIONS
Wearing her peacock beaded gown from Seattle with a pair of strappy royal blue heels, Layla was elegant as she descended the stairs down to the first floor. Mostly recovered from an afternoon by herself, sitting out on her balcony and taking in the view of the Hotel’s sprawling gardens, Layla felt a thrill inside her now at the anticipation of a welcome ball in her honor. Her hair was curled elegantly to one side of her neck in a chignon, courtesy of a Hotel stylist that had been sent to her rooms at four o’clock. Her makeup had also been done, in smoky shades to make her jade irises pop – and tonight, Mimi’s diamonds graced her neck and wrist, a subtle yet elegant teardrop set with dark sapphires.
Rikyava escorted Layla, the Guardswoman wearing her regular crimson jerkin with weapons still bristling about her person. Her luminous blonde hair had been done up in ornate braids and she wore a touch of makeup though, her violet eyes arresting over her high cheekbones. Rikyava’s tall muscled curves were well-built, and Layla felt proud to be on her arm tonight – enjoying the MMA-fighter sturdiness of her new friend, in both menacing physicality and also Rikyava’s excellentback offglower.
Navigating a first-floor hall near the gardens, Layla saw more activity in the Hotel now that evening drew near. Positively busy with excitement, the Hotel bustled with Guard hefting luggage over their shoulders and elegant guests mingling in every kind of finery imaginable. In a ballroom gleaming with silvered mirrors and crystal chandeliers, a masked ball was in full swing. Hundreds of couples, both human and not, waltzed to an orchestra sighing with impossible harmonies, their instruments not of human make. Further down the hall, a large group of people sipped drinks at a side-bar for cocktail hour, every one of them wearing sashes indicating royalty, and not a few tiaras among the group. Near the end of the hall, Rikyava took Layla past an indoor game in an atrium full of tropical plants, like life-size chess but played naked, the participant’s bodies painted with arcane sigils.
Tugging her past every spectacle, Rikyava next led Layla through a vaulted glass corridor choked with potted palms in massive Egyptian-style urns. Passing through a gauntlet of Guards with pikes, they entered a sprawling lounge decorated in an art-deco Egyptian style rather than the rest of the Hotel’s French Baroque. The buttressed vaults and stone pillars reminded Layla of the great theaters of the 1930’s, with carven columns brightly painted in royal colors mimicking the temples of the Nile. Silk chaises were grouped here and there, Hotel staff in evening attire laughing and chatting with drinks. Beyond the ingress, a grand staircase with a lotus wrought-iron railing led up to a massive ballroom on the second level. Palms and potted greenery divided the area into cozy nooks, antique dividers from Bali and Tibet giving privacy. Stone Buddhas and Kwan Yins, sphinxes and even an Easter Island head clustered in the greenery.
Dressed to the nines, Layla noted that everyone in this sprawling lounge wore a crimson Hotel pin. But before Layla and Rikyava could step into the hall, Madame Etienne Voulouer suddenly swept up, clad in a tiger-striped gold and coffee ballgown and accosting them with a beaming smile.
“Darlings!” The Madame kissed them both upon the cheeks. “Wonderful that you’ve arrived! Dinner is about to start, but you still have some time to mingle. Rikyava be a dear and introduce Layla around, will you? I haven’t the time – that mischievous Adrian is keeping me oh so busy! But I shall return halfway through dinner and make Layla’s welcome speech, don’t you worry.”
With a pat to Layla’s cheek, Madame Voulouer whisked off, and Rikyava escorted Layla into the ornate hall. Heads turned, watching her arrive. As if they could sense she was the feature of the evening, a number of people raised glasses towards her in a pleasant welcome. Some went back to their conversations while others stared, most with smiles but a few with slight frowns. But as Layla stepped onto the silk Persian carpet, her beaded train slithering in her wake, a strong arm suddenly slid up behind her – locking her securely around the waist.
“Tomorrow, you’re mine,” a rumbling, sexy baritone voice murmured in her ear, “and Iamgoing to make the most of you.”
Layla’s breath caught; her world spun as a delicious vibration surged through her from head to heels. The man’s possessive hand gripped her, pulling her back firmly against a very masculine, hard body. His presence set Layla’s heart racing, heat flaring through her and unable to be controlled by the hamsa-cuff on her wrist. His chuckle was a dark rumble at her neck as his smooth lips pressed in – kissing her neck. Pleasure rumbled all the way through Layla’s body with his kiss; exquisite. Layla gasped, her knees buckling as power and carnal sexuality flooded her. Her accoster held her tight as her head fell back to his shoulder, her eyelashes fluttering wildly. Heat flared inside her, rising swift and sure to his energy – as if the creature moving in her veins knew him.
Knew who he was, and wanted him.
