Vampires clustered near the bar, their pale hands wrapped around crystal glasses filled with something dark and viscous. Shifters prowling the perimeter, their territorial instincts making them avoid the center of the room. Mages gathered near the floor-to-ceiling windows, their fingers tracing arcane symbols in the air as they converse in low, melodic tones.
And at the far end of the ballroom, on a raised dais, a string quartet plays something classical and haunting.
Tamsin leans into my side, her breath warm against my chest.
"This is insane," she whispers.
"It is standard for this demographic."
"Standard? Cyprian, there's a vampire over there drinking what I'm pretty sure is actual blood out of a champagne flute."
"That is Lucien Ashford. He is handling the social engineering component of tonight's operation."
"Right. Obviously. Because that's a totally normal sentence."
I feel my mouth curve.
Not quite a smile.
But close.
Lucien catches my eye from across the room and raises his glass in a subtle salute.
He is dressed impeccably—tailored black suit, crisp white shirt, no tie. His pale blond hair is slicked back, his ice-blue eyes sharp and calculating as he works the crowd.
He isgoodat this.
Better than I will ever be.
Because Lucien understands the social dynamics of the supernatural elite in a way I never have.
He knows how to charm.
How to distract.
How to make people feel like they are the most important person in the room while he extracts every piece of useful information they possess.
I watch as he leans in close to a high-tier corporate mage, his hand resting lightly on her arm, his expression warm and attentive.
She laughs.
Touches his chest.
Leans closer.
And Lucien's eyes flick to mine for just a fraction of a second.
The signal is clear:I have her attention. Proceed.
I guide Tamsin toward the center of the ballroom, my hand never leaving her back.
We move through the crowd slowly.
Deliberately.
Allowing everyone to see her.
To see the choker.
