“Can’t wait.” Just then, the hairs on the back of my neck stand up when a cold spot approaches from behind me, and then I’m looking into the blood-red eyes of Armand Foucault, the Vampire Councilman from the hearing.
“Armand, so lovely to see you again.” She smiles warmly. “Nyx—Armand was just elected as the Chairman of the Vampire Council.”
“Congratulations.” I nod politely, despite wanting to crawl out of my skin at his proximity.
“Yes, well done,” she raises her glass, and he nods in thanks. A tall man in his fifties—at least, he appears to be, there’s no knowing how old he really is—with perfectly styled dark gray hair that’s buzzed on the sides, and gray stubble that accentuates his sapphire blue eyes, Armand is the picture of poise. When he speaks, his deep voice is still heavily accented.
“It is a pleasure to finally meet you in person, Nyx.” He holds his hand out for me to shake, but when I try to return the gesture he kisses my knuckles without breaking eye contact, and it takes everything in me to keep from wiping the trace of it on my skirts when he turns to Vivica
“Madame, your support was the key to my victory. Did you receive my gift of thanks?”
For the first time since I’ve seen her, Vivica’s smile actually reaches her eyes. “Armand, it’s perfect. Exactly what I’ve been looking for. How did you ever find one?”
When he gives her a knowing smirk, I decide that I never want to know what makes a man like him, smile like that. “It’s been in my possession for some time, but you had more use for it than I do these days. I’m glad it’s found a home where it’ll be appreciated.”
“Absolutely, I’m eager to see what else it can do—” from the corner of my eye, I see Milo waving wildly across the room and excuse myself before whatever the fuck that was gets ever weirder. It takes me a moment to work my way around the crowd—steering clear of the dancers, the minglers, the drinkers. Well—not all of them, as I realize when Milo nearly calls me over.
“Nyxxxx! Your dress is amazing, very on brand. Are you having fun? Of course you’re not,” he laughs, throwing his arm over my shoulders, “this is your worst nightmare. Like Batman.”Deciding he doesn’t need whatever’s in his half-full glass, I quickly take it from him and finish it off. He gasps in faux outrange. “Excuse you, I was going to throw that up later.”
“Gross.” I cough as my throat burns. He pats me on the back, which helps absolutely zero.
“I’m glad you’re here, I need your help to settle an argument. This asshole—” he points to the empty space in front of us, “is theworstat charades. Lookit—what the hell does,” he gesticulates wildly, nearly tipping both of us over, “this mean? I say it’s a walrus on a unicycle, but he keeps saying I’m wrong.”
“Milo, I think you’re seeing dead people again.”
He pauses and his eyes widen comically, and then he doubles over in laughter. “Did you just Bruce Willis me?!” he wipes his eyes and looks at the empty space again. “Don’t get mad at me! That was hilarious. Ow!” he flinches and then rubs his shoulder. “Uncalled for, dude. Don’t make me yeet you back through the Veil.”
“Hey, have you seen Ramsey?” I ask before his argument with a ghost…spirit…whatever can escalate. He pulls a flask from somewhere and takes several large gulps, shivering at the aftertaste.
“You know, I thought he was the grumpiest asshole I’ve ever known, but that was before meeting his parents.” Fuck, why didn’t I think of that? Why didn’t he say anything before tonight? “They interrupted our drinking game just as shit was getting good. I almost had him?—”
“He’s a shifter, he doesn’t get drunk like we do.”
His jaw drops, and then he howls with laughter again. “Oh that scaly fucker. I’m totally going to get him back for that. Hey, ghostie! How do you feel about playing a prank?—”
“Milo,” I interrupt, “did you see where he went?”
“I think he stormed off outside, maybe check the patio? Don’t tell him I’m planning my revenge!”
“Your secret’s safe with me.” I salute, and leave him to whatever he’s plotting with the dead. But before I can make my way to the edge of the crowd and sneak out to the patio, Roth steps in front of me.
“Nyx.”
I glare at him. “Hello your Heir-ness, please get out of my way.”
“My parents would like to speak with you.”
“Cool, I’ll find them later.” I move to sidestep him, but he blocks me again.
“Now.”
He literally drips wealth in a black velvet tuxedo trimmed in black satin with platinum cufflinks and collar tips in the shape of a dog’s head. Even so, “You don’t actually get to tell me what to do, Roth.”
He crooks his eyebrow. “Is that what you think?”
I cross my arms over my chest, realizing too late that it accentuates my admittedly impressive cleavage even more in this corset top. I keep forgetting I finally have tits now, which in any other scenario I’d be very proud of. When I snap my fingers at him, he merely quirks his eyebrow.
“Last I checked, I wasn’t part of your little gaggle of ball-garglers.” I gesture vaguely to the crowd. “So until theirrequestcomes notarized and in triplicate, I’ll do it on my own time, thanks—hey!”
