There’s a final guard in front of these doors, he looks down at us with a frown.
“So you’re back.”
Whistler nods.
“I brought what the Boss asked for.”
The guard nods and knocks once.
After a moment, a deep voice rumbles from inside.
“Come.”
The doors swing open, as if by their own accord. Are they voice controlled? I don’t have time to ask because we’re walking through them.
The office beyond is palatial—red velvet drapes…black wood furniture gleaming like obsidian…silver trim catching the firelight from the fire that burns in a small but ornate gleaming brass fireplace in the corner. A mahogany desk dominates the room—massive, polished, and commanding.
The walls are lined with bookshelves filled with expensive looking leather-bound volumes and strange artifacts—a silver chalice, a golden dagger, and a crown of thorns under glass, just to name a few. The air smells faintly of iron and roses.
At first, I’m too busy staring around me to notice him.
Then Whistler moves aside and I see the man behind the desk.
He’s tall with broad shoulders straining his immaculate suit jacket. His face is cruelly handsome—aristocratic with high cheekbones and a strong jaw. His thick black hair is slicked back, but I can tell it would wave if he let it grow. His eyes—icy gray—catch mine and hold. For just a heartbeat, the pupils flash red.
Whistler bows.
“Well, here she is, your Fanginess. I brought her all the way from the Human Realm, just as you asked.”
The Don’s gaze sweeps me from head to toe and a scowl twists his features into something darker.
“What have you brought me, Whistler? Another stick-thin Fae maiden? I told you, they don’t sate my Thirst. Where is the one I sent you for?”
Whistler chuckles.
“Ah—didn’t I tell you my glamour could fool anyone? Even the Magistrate looked right at us and let us pass, smooth as you please!”
The Don’s scowl deepens.
“Whistler, what in the Shadow Realm are you babbling about? Where is she?”
“Why, she’s right here, my Lord!” Whistler flicks his hand and mutters a few strange words.
I feel a cool breeze blowing across my breasts. I look down and I gasp.
The glamour has fallen away and under it I’m completely naked.
12
Jules
I gasp, stumbling back, trying desperately to cover myself. My arms fold across my chest, my thighs clamped together tight, but it’s hopeless—there’s just too much of me to cover.
The man behind the desk rises and I feel my eyes go wide with shock.
Oh my God—he’s huge.
He’s taller than he looked sitting down—so much taller. He towers over me, at least six-eight, maybe seven feet if I’m being honest. His shoulders are broad enough to block out the light from the chandelier hanging from the ceiling behind him—his frame is a solid wall of muscle wrapped in a suit that probably costs more than my annual salary.
