Now she had to decide how to deal with him, dammit.
A Delacourt couldn’t let an insult like that stand. But her lioness was still an uncertain ally.
No, that wasn’t right.Shewas the unreliable one in their partnership. The last time she’d asked her lioness to lend her its strength, she’d almost destroyed them both.
And they’d both enjoyed it so much, until they realized they had been misled.
So she’d better not try to tear any throats out this time, no matter how tempting it was.
She put down her fork. And stared at him.
No words. No telepathic connection. No sneer. Just the cool wash of her attention, because that was what he wanted, wasn’t it? That’s why he was makingso much fuss.
Fur burst out around his eyes. A tusk cracked out from his jaw. Whatever was inside him was desperate to get out, or—no. She knew what this was.
She raised one eyebrow, unimpressed.
“The hell are you doing?” his friend hissed at him.
Behind them, the slightest movement as security prepared to spring into action. She should have brought Julian after all.
But, again, all she had was herself.
“And you still can’t see it?” she asked, gently. It was out of character for her; so was the expression of mild concern she contorted onto her face as she leaned forward. “Still?”
He glared at her from eyes that were more boar than man.
“Keep trying,” she urged him. “No? Well. Maybe you should learn to rely less on your inner animal’s senses. It doesn’t appear to be doing you any good.”
Eloise hissed in a delighted breath. The man slammed back in his chair, glaring at her.
Francine sighed and picked up her napkin. “I do appreciate the invitation, Elly, but I thought this was aselectparty. Your people can drop me back at my own ship tonight, can’t they?”
Eloise put a hand over her arm. “Don’t be silly. He’ll behave. Won’t you?” Her eyes flashed lioness gold, and two of her bodyguards peeled themselves away from the wall and stalked towards Panshaw.
“I thought we left that sort of behavior behind in high school,” Francine complained as the man was firmly led away. Another member of staff cleared away his dinner setting before he was even out the door.
“Some men don’t know how to behave in front of a woman.” Nikolaidis offered to refill her glass, and she nodded. His own inner animal was still carefully hidden.
She shrugged. “Not the worst dinner entertainment I’ve had to sit through.”
He smiled at her. “I was expecting a menagerie, but the caveman was a surprise.”
“Dear!” Mrs. Smith’s voice was low and husky. “I understand we have you to thank for the delightful accommodations.”
She welcomed the change of subject. “Please don’t judge me on my twenty-year-old self’s design choices,” she laughed.
Nikolaidis’s voice was too close to her ear. “If you consider this a poor reflection on your talents, I would love to see what you create now.”
Her heart thudded unpleasantly. What she created now? She didn’t create anything.
Unstoppably, her mind went to Irina Mathers. Irina’s magical paintings that turned a person’s soul into a riot of paint, light, and color. She’d admired her work more than she would have admitted even if she hadn’t been plotting to kill her.
Her food turned to dust in her mouth.
“My focus is a little different these days,” she murmured. Her wine glass was empty again. When had that happened?
He laughed. “We’re all a little preoccupied, yes.”
