Okay, not mad you haven’t answered my calls. Guess you're working, eh? See you at the gallery. Is later tonight still on?
What the hell was going onlater tonight?
His gut twitched, jaw clamped—dammit. He had no business worrying aboutthataspect of her life. His first priority was to make sure she was the one he sought, and to keep her safe until she completed the task of awakening the scroll to find the Stone.
Too bad for little green eyes, saving his world trumped her tryst.
Reynner slipped the cell into his pocket, walked outside, and found Aerén there. He stood precariously on the edge of the balcony, hands shoved in his sweats pockets. He glanced back, his gaze sweeping over Reynner’s leathers and the coat he’d hooked with a finger over his shoulder. The bleakness in his eyes scored a layer off Reynner’s closed-door attitude.
“I may have found someone who can awaken the scroll,” he said. He had no clue if this Eve could rouse the ancient parchment. Just because her magic blood did strange things to his dick meant nothing. But the question ofwhysettled in his head, gnawed a hole and refused to leave. Brutally, he shut it off.
“The mortal’s been found?”
At the flicker of excitement in Aerén’s expression, Reynner wished he hadn't opened his yap so soon. “Don’t get your hopes up just yet. The scroll responds only to the touch of one whose blood will awaken it. I’d have to make sure she is the right female first, then find a way to convince her to help us.”
Aerén cut him a dry look. “That shouldn’t be a problem. I recall the females haunting your halls in Ademéras, and your many assignations with them.”
Seduce her to help their cause?
“Yeah, should be a piece of cake,” he muttered, aware of his lack of enthusiasm.
Why the hell was he hesitating over this one? He’d used females before. If Eve had magic in her, then he’d do what needed to be done. All that mattered was saving his world. His fingers curled around the delicate earring in his pocket.
Once it was over, he’d just clear her memories and send her on her way…
***
Eve wobbled in her vivid blue icepick heels, attempting her usual quick stride. Unless she wanted to fall flat on her face, she’d better slow down. She was already late, hurrying now made little difference.
The stifling heat rose off the asphalt and moistened her skin as she fished for her cell phone in her evening bag to check her messages, surprised Brenna or Kataya hadn’t called to rant.
Only to find it locked. And her password didn't work. Ugh, she’d just sort it out later.
Dropping her phone back in her purse, Eve rubbed her damp palms over the hips of her blue-green strappy cocktail dress. Its flared hemline fluttered around her thighs as she pushed open the glass door into the snazzy foyer of the brick building where Artist Inc. Gallery was located. She sighed in pleasure at the blast of coolness against her skin. Thank God for air conditioners.
While the ancient elevator chugged her up to the sixth floor, Eve drew on her black gloves. With this kind of crowd, she didn’t dare risk going in with bare hands.
Soft voices and tinkling glass greeted her in the gallery, along with the nose-tingling scents of expensive perfumes and oil paints. Eve stopped, stunned, and stared at the canvases on display. David’s absentmindedness definitely hid a brilliant artist.
“Hi,” she greeted the couple next to her. “His work is amazing, isn’t it?”
The brunette threw her a cold look and turned away. Her male companion, on the other hand, smiled appreciatively at her.
Odd. Eve shook her head and concentrated on the canvas titled“Life,”done in the Impressionist style. The enormous conglomeration of brushstrokes coalesced into a group of homeless people sheltering around a garbage can of fire. David had captured the very mood and nuances of his subjects while they enjoyed a simple pleasure. The sheer brilliance of his work boggled her mind.
She spied Eric and David with a group of people on the other end and gave them a little wave before she wandered to another canvas. A jasmine perfumed cloud enveloped her seconds later.
“There you are, you slacker,” Kataya growled into her ear. “You don’t answer your cell anymore?”
“I’m so sorry, I was working.” She accepted a champagne flute from a passing waiter who gave her a thorough once over.
Eve frowned. What was it with the lust-filled stares since she’d entered the gallery? Heck, Kataya was the looker with her pale skin and slant-shaped eyes. Tonight she was decked in sleek black evening pants and matching bustier top. Her dark red hair flowed in a sexy cascade of corkscrew curls down her back.
“I don’t know much about Impressionism,” Kataya said, her whiskey-colored eyes taking in all the paintings. “But everything sure looks good. So, are you and David heating up the sheets tonight?”
Eve sputtered. Champagne sprayed, wetting her gloves.
“Jesus, Kat!” She glared at her friend, found a tissue in her bag and cleaned off her damp gloves. “We’re merely having drinks later, nothing else.”
