The Price
ELOISE
Ineed to convince the advocate to strike a new bargain with me, and I can only hope he’s still willing. Last night ended awkwardly. He said I could call on him again if I changed my mind about having him kill Tony. I’m not sure how he’ll react when I ask him instead to search for an invoice I haven’t seen in months.
I do my best to sweeten the deal. He’s mentioned liking things I’ve chosen for myself, so after I shower, I leave the pink bathrobe hanging on my bathroom door and don a thigh-length, kimono-style robe from the back of my closet, one of the few things I still own from before Tony. It’s silky, black and strikes me as something a creature made of shadows would love.
After that, I go through the motions of preparing myself and the parlor almost robotically. My grandmother’s failing health, my impending court date, my gloomy financial situation, and Tony’s cruelty take up too much room in my head. I try not to think about anything but exactly what’s infront of me. I roll the carpet back. I draw the symbol. I ready the candle.
When the grandfather clock strikes twelve, I light the match, lowering it to the wick. The black flame flickers to life. With no hesitation, I draw the blade across my palm, sucking air through my teeth at the sting. The pain is mildly comforting, a reminder that I can still feel.
As before, shadows gather in the corners of the dim room, and in the blink of an eye, Damien is there. My heart beats a mad tattoo in my chest, but paradoxically my body loosens, air entering my lungs in a long, deep inhale. Suddenly, mercifully, all I can think of is him. It’s hard to think of anything else in Damien’s presence. He commands attention, from his sheer size to his dark, preternatural grace, to that inviting spice that clings to his skin.
His gaze rakes over me, nostrils flaring with surprise and intensity. He’s the first man to ever look at me like that, like he’s hungry for me. I thought Tony had, in the beginning, but that was nothing like this. Damien prowls toward me like a predator. As frightening as that should be, I am eased by the simplicity of it. He wants me. His desire might be only for my blood, a desire to consume me, but I don’t care. I love the feel of it, of being wanted. And my physical reaction to his presence requires no thought, no concentration, no decision.
It just is.
“Little bird, have you changed your mind so soon?” His voice is smoke made flesh. His lids sink low over those silvery eyes until he’s looking at me through his lashes. His full lips spread into a wicked grin. “Come to your senses?”
“Not entirely,” I say. “I still don’t want you to kill Tony.”
He balks. “Then why am I here? You do realize, despite what you told him, I am no lawyer.”
“But you are a monster, which gives you certain powers. Powers that could be useful in finding out information that would otherwise be inaccessible to someone like me.”
He leans back on his heels and folds his arms. “A monster. Is that what you’ve decided I am? Given up on vampire?”
“It seems like an encompassing enough label.”
“Fine. The monster is listening.”
“The first time Tony hit me?—”
“It happened more than once?” Damien hisses through his teeth. “Let me kill him.”
“No.” I take a deep breath and center myself. “I’d found an invoice on his desk charged to a company called Gold Weaver, Inc. I wouldn’t have thought twice about it if it was a typical invoice. Denardi Enterprises does business with thousands of other companies. But this was an invoice he was paying. He was acting as Gold Weaver and the name he was signing was not his own. It was weird.”
“What does that have to do with me?”
“I believe Tony is running a secret business on the side. The way he lashed out at me at the time was unusual, even for him. He hadn’t wanted me to see that invoice. Maeve says that if we can prove he has undeclared assets, we might be able to dismantle our prenup and negotiate for the house. I want you to find that Gold Weaver invoice and bring a copy to me.”
A low rumble emanates from his chest. “Killing him would be faster.”
I tilt my head and pop out a hip. “Are you telling me you can’t do this? You can turn yourself into smoke and compel information out of people, but a little private investigation is beyond your capabilities?”
With a look of condescension, he drawls, “Not beyondmy abilities, but it is a new agreement, one that will costmoreto secure.”
“More than our first?”
“If I kill him, I have the added reward of his blood. The task you ask of me now is far less… appealing.”
“Fine, what’s your price, then?” I release a deep breath. “Just so you know, I have very little money and only so much blood.”
“I have no use for your money.” He moves toward me, his gaze raking down my body in a way that makes my skin flush hot, and I realize I’m still wearing the black kimono. “I do want what blood you have to give, but this time, I want to touch you too.”
“Touch me?” I know what he means but I want to hear him say it. “Why?”
His gaze traces along my exposed neck, the vee of flesh at my chest, then skates to the belt knotted at my navel, lingering at the place the silk ends halfway down my thighs.
