CHAPTER 1 – PROBLEMS
Dusk Arlohaim, Head Concierge at the Red Letter Hotel Paris, slammed closed an enormous ledger just as a flash of lightning and thunder lit the grey afternoon. Standing at a computer monitor behind the curved mahogany Concierge desk, Layla Price startled from fixing the week’s activity schedule. The vaulted French Baroque hall of the Palace of Versailles echoed with the peal and Dusk’s vigorous movement, smoothed by a rush of water cascading down a gilded mer-woman fountain nearby. Crystal chandeliers were lit bright against the dark afternoon, yellow leaves swirling in a brisk wind beyond the high windows as the sky roiled with an impending thunderstorm.
October had arrived in the Twilight Realm, with storms not unlike Layla’s former home of Seattle. Wearing a cream cocktail dress with burgundy lace shoulders that hugged her tall hourglass curves, Layla’s sable curls were pulled up in a chignon for work, her silver Moroccan hamsa-cuff on her left wrist – like it had been ever since that last fateful day in Seattle two months ago.
The day she’d nearly killed her ex-boyfriend with her newly opened Dragon powers and had to leave her old home behind.
Lifting her gaze to a mahogany grandfather clock down the hall carved with phoenix, Layla blinked away exhaustion. The Red Letter Hotel Paris was making final preparations for the Samhain Masquerade on Halloween – now only ten days away. Groundskeepers in beige and Guardsmen in crimson 1800’s uniforms were decking marble pillars and vaulted alcoves with autumnal decorations. Cocktail hour was in full swing, copper bars surrounded by potted greenery and silk chaises absolutely stuffed with human and Twilight Realm patrons dressed to the nines. The Hotel was packed with guests, and Dusk had Layla working double shifts as patrons flocked in from all over Europe to attend the carnally decadent celebrations.
“Alright, that’s it for the day, Layla. Time to pack it up.”
Turning with a flash of iridescence in his artfully sculpted black hair, Dusk’s sapphire eyes pierced Layla as he leaned his tall soccer-player’s frame against the inner arc of the desk, finally relaxing his do-it-all vigilance as Head Concierge. Dressed in a light grey Italian suit with a crimson silk tie and pocket square, Dusk’s impeccable ensemble highlighted his tanned yet slightly grey-blue skin, straight dark brows, and full lips. Midnight iridescent dragon-scale ridges cascaded from his temples, outer cheekbones, and over the backs of his hands. Devilishly handsome and unfailingly unique, Layla’s boss was always on-point even well past shift’s end.
It made Layla perk to realize he was calling a quit two hours early.
“It’s only four p.m.” Layla spoke, pushing her computer screen away on its swivel-arm. “Our shift lasts another two hours. Plus the six-to-midnight rotation you’ve got me on until Samhain.”
“We’re changing shifts early. You and I are off for the night, even though there’s still a lot to do. We’ve got a party to attend.” Dusk spoke in his usual brisk manner, though he gave a grin as he hefted his enormous gilded ledger of Assignations – private trysts with the sought-after Courtiers and Courtesans of the Hotel – and slid it into a safe below the desk. As he waved his hand over the steel safe, Layla watched a complex clockwork mechanism seal the vault. And then the safe wavered like a mirage, disappearing into a space that looked like an empty cubby. “I’ve summoned the evening shift to take over early so we can get ready.”
“We?” Layla arched a dark eyebrow, giving Dusk a smile from her red lips. Elegant makeup was required in Concierge Services, and she had darkened her eyes to make her jade-green irises pop today, the crimson lipstick perfect with her dress.
“You, me, and Rikyava.” Dusk grinned, his witty summer-blue eyes full of trouble, his normal mode when he was off-duty. Dusk had two modes: problem-solver by day with the Hotel’s exorbitantly wealthy and influential clients, and troublemaker by night when he could do as he pleased with his off-hours. Layla had found she quite liked both modes, and Dusk was quickly becoming a friend, though he was a tough mentor behind the desk.
“We’ve got Dragons staying in the Hotel until Samhain,” Dusk continued briskly. “There’s a welcome party this evening and we, as members of Dragon clans who represent the Hotel, are expected to attend.”
“A Dragon party?” Layla’s brows rose. Though she’d been working at the Hotel nearly two months, she’d met no other Dragon Shifters yet besides the ones she worked with. New to the knowledge that she was a Desert Dragon out of Morocco, Layla was still adjusting to the powers that had awakened in her as a Royal Dragon Bind, a rare and tempestuous sub-Lineage of Dragon Shifter. Dusk and her friend Rikyava Andersen, Head of the Hotel Guard, were illuminating her on what being a Dragon meant – but still, Layla was curious about their kind.
A desert heat scented with orange peels and bourbon rose from Layla as eagerness moved inside her at the prospect of meeting other Dragons. Dusk gave a smile as he smelled it, picking up on her anticipation, his blue eyes bright as he chuckled.
“I see that smile, Layla. I felt your magic move, too. Which is why we’re quitting early – so I can get you prepped for tonight.”
Dusk was about to say more when a drop-dead gorgeous guy strolled up to the curved mahogany desk. Tall and tanned with unruly ash blond hair and a short blond beard, his vivid jade-green eyes were ringed with dark violet. Wearing a chocolate motorcycle jacket with white rabbit-fur lapels and crossover flaps, jeans hugged his thighs with motorcycle boots, making him look like a WWII-bombardier meets Roman conqueror. Flashing a fifty-megawatt smile, he leaned one elbow on the desk. A dragon-ring of malachite and jade set in platinum coiled around a massive emerald on his left index finger, catching the light.
“Dusk!” The man hailed Layla’s boss in a laughing tenor. “Working hard or slacking off?”
“Adam!” Dusk gave a laugh, rounding the desk and clapping the sexy bombardier in an hearty embrace. There was much slapping of backs, the tall fellow gripping Dusk behind the neck and shaking him. Dusk was nearly six feet, but his friend stood a good four inches taller, with sexy muscle under his modern bomber-gear.
The newcomer’s vivid jade eyes strayed to Layla and he gave a whistle, slinging his arm around Dusk’s shoulders. “Wow! I like the wares Concierge is sporting these days! Well done!”
“Excuseme?” Layla crossed her arms, giving Bombardier Guy a chilly stare.
Dusk cleared his throat with a small grin at Layla’s sass, clapping his friend on the back again before returning behind the desk. He beckoned to Layla as Adam settled into an artful slouch at the desk, grinning like a Roman brigand who’d just stormed all of Gaul.
“Adam Rhakvir, Clan Second of the Moroccan Desert Dragons, please meet Layla Price, Concierge of the Hotel and Royal Dragon Bind, also of your clan.”
“Well, well. The Royal Dragon Bind. No one said she’d be the Madonna of my dreams!”
Adam’s gaze was penetrating and deviant as he gave Layla an obvious up-and-down. She was about to sass him like she would any out-of-line asshat, when power suddenly surged around her. She’d been one breath from tearing Adam Rhakvir a new one, when that dark, hot look suddenly pummeled her with a drowning scent of orchards and honey, like apple blossoms in a spring wind. She’d felt other Twilight Lineages test her with magic before, but this was something far deeper. As it drove home like a spear inside her body, making the vicious beast deep within Layla’s veins roar with a carnal delight, Layla knew what it was.
Dragon power.
Royal Dragon power.
Cloying and heady, Adam’s sudden rush of power devoured Layla, and she felt her own Dragon-magic roar – surging up with a hot passion like molten gold inside her body. Layla’s magic was usually dormant beneath her Moroccan wrist-cuff with its bone hamsa and teardrop coral, but now it was like a searing sand-funnel as her inner Dragon surged up to meet Adam’s.
A spiced orange-bourbon scent exploded in the air, as curls of etheric golden flame sparked around Layla. A small sound escaped her lips as she rocked forward. Bracing a hand on the desk, she struggled against the roaring twist of passion consuming her. Gasping, she shuddered with ecstasy, waves of heat pouring through her like a summer mirage. She didn’t have control over her magics yet and couldn’t put her surging heat away, nor stop his. The Dragon that lived inside her roared – wanting this man with a passion unlike any she’d felt since she and her Royal Dragon Adrian Rhakvir had bonded in Seattle. Like barbed coils slid out from her body, and answering ones roared out from his, Layla felt herself and Adam twining closer into a carnal, delicious dance.
Pulling towards each other – into a hot and devastating mystical embrace.
