Impossible.“I love you, Grams.”
“Love you, too.” She kisses my forehead. “Now help me back to bed.”
14
The Invitation
DAMIEN
Iwake before twilight, the rich, dark-wine scent of Eloise lingering in my nose. Fucking siren of a woman. Why did I allow myself to take her blood again? Already she occupies more than her share of space in my mind. I’m becoming obsessed. And now I can add the softness of her skin to things I can’t stop thinking about. Worse, the way she looked at me when she shattered in my arms, rattled me to the essence of my being. That bastard husband of hers tore off all her leaves and branches, left her a stump of her former self to die in the dirt, but she looks at me like I’m the sun and all she needs is more of me to grow again.
I am no fucking hero.
It’s been centuries since I’ve been truly needed. Used, yes. I’ve been used by the Gowdies regularly. But being used for the benefit of others is different from being needed. Eloise reaches for me as if who I am matters to who she is becoming, like I can honestly free the part of her she’slocked away these past years. And I fucking love it. My name on her lips steals my breath.
If she won’t let me kill Tony, I’ll find this Gold Weaver invoice for her and save her from the bastard the only way I can. And then... And then...Fuck. I’ll probably never see her again. I’ll be a dog on someone else's leash. That thought makes me morph into a dense cloud of darkness and reform in the middle of my apartment. Perhaps a long, cold shower is in order.
An unexpected knock comes on my front door. Who could that be at this hour?
The knock comes again, more insistent. I cross the small apartment and open the door, ready to tear into whoever is on the other side, but when I see the crimson, onyx, and gold braided cords that signify a member of the queen's personal security detail, I clench my teeth and offer a formal bow.
The lanky woman bows back, the heels of her heavy boots snapping together. “Please excuse the hour of my visit. I have a missive from the queen.” She thrusts a parchment envelope in my direction, the royal seal pressed into the red wax securing its flap.
“What's this about?” I ask. I don’t like this. Not one bit.
The guard smiles and gestures toward the letter. “All of the details are there.”
“Care to give me the gist of it?”
She tips her head as if she finds my request baffling. “The queen is actively seeking a consort, and your company has been requested for an interview.”
“I think you have the wrong address. I'm not a member of the military.”
“You are Damian Hymir of 32 B Evermore Lane?”
“I am.”
“Congratulations. The invitation is for you.” She bows again and retreats down the long empty hall.
I close the door and tear into the envelope.Her royal highness Queen Valeska requests the pleasure of your company...Fuck!
I know why the queen wants to meet me. As one of only three shades in this realm, I have abilities that no ordinary vampire enjoys. Only, I have no interest in the job. In fact, I can’t think of any position I’d enjoy less. At least my Gowdie curse will come in useful this one time. Shecan’tchoose me. Bound to the Gowdie witches as I am and have been for centuries, I'd be a security risk. My loyalty may lie with the crown, but I’d be helpless to deny a direct command from a Gowdie candle bearer. If one of the family ordered me to kill the queen, I’d be magically compelled to obey.
I dig in a drawer for a piece of paper and a pen and, in the formal language of my kind, respond politely to the invitation, revealing the Gowdie curse and detailing why I can’t serve in the role of consort. I’ll find a courier to deliver my regrets to the palace. I slide the letter into an envelope and seal it with black wax and the generic circular press that all commoners use.
The circle brings back dusty memories of my true family signet. Once, my seal held the power of a kingdom and consisted of a griffon, wings spread, behind crossed swords. If I was still that prince, I could claim Eloise Harcourt and make her mine forever. I drop the letter on the table and shake my head. What a stupid, reckless thought. If I was still that prince, I would have never met Eloise Harcourt, and I’d likely be married to a neighboring kingdom’s princess. Damn it, even if I freed myself fromthis curse and returned home, she shouldn’t come with me. She’s human. She belongs here.
Running a hand over my face, I cast aside the rogue thoughts and head for the shower. I have work to do.
An hour later,I manifest in the shadows outside the foyer of Denardi Enterprises, dressed in a suit that matches the moonlit sky outside the windows. Tamara, the receptionist I compelled before, is behind the front desk, filing papers while she hums to herself. The waiting room is blessedly empty.
I approach the desk silently and wait for her to notice.
“Oh, hello!” Her lashes flutter. “Can I help you?”
“Is Tony Denardi here?” I have no intention of actually meeting with the man; I only need to know if he’ll be a factor tonight.
“Sorry, no. Um, actually, we're closed.” She glances at the glass doors and frowns. “I thought I locked up.”
