I’m worried about what spending time in forced proximity with her will do to my already fraying sanity.
“Maybe you should forgive her. Make amends,”my traitorous inner voice whispers, and my shadows jump at the chance to second that, pushing to break free from my skin and swirl their way to her.
Fuck my eternal undead life.
I violently tug and rein in my powers.
This Reweroth affair will be a shitshow; I already know it.
But for the sake of saving the world from ruination, it must be done.
Chapter 3
Blaise
Sittinghereatafront-row, center table at the Twinkling Meadow, waiting for Aimee’s friend’s number to begin, it’s almost as if there’s no war looming above all our heads.
The atmosphere is electric, buzzing with male pheromones and unbridled excitement. These males don’t care about what’s going on outside these gilded walls. They’re here for a good time, not a long one, and they hoot and holler in anticipation.
I sip some fresh, warm blood mixed with the most decadent faerie wine I have tasted in ages, taking in every detail of the main stage. The hardwood floors are polished to perfection, the walls adorned with deep red velvet drapes and garlands of golden-tipped flowers. Opulent chandeliers hang heavy with gleaming candles, and in the air all around, the cloying aroma of burned incense and expensive perfume wafts between patrons. Doe-eyed servers in see-through garments glide between the tables on nimble limbs, smiling coyly at the males who promise them sweet nothings.
So this is where Aimee worked for five years. It reminds me of Saignée, but in an over the top, in your face kind of way. Leave it to the fucking Fae to be obnoxious, even when dealing in pleasures of the flesh.
I’m almost bored, playing with the rim of the crystal flute when the lightning dims in the parlor, several candles being blown out to create this eerie, semi-obscure atmosphere.
Uh, uh, finally the show is about to start. I sit just a little straighter, intrigued to see Aimee’s little Fae friend. From my very central vantage point, I should be able to see everything on display, and I meaneverything.
Everyone assumes spies slink in the shadows, never seen, never heard, just ghosts wrapped in darkness and silence. That we hide away in darkened corners, witnessing all, but never taking part.
Yeah, no, thank you very much. That’s not how I roll.
I’m too Godsdamn good-looking to conceal myself. Some call me vain. I’d say I’m just self-assured and not afraid to admit it.
Confidence is sexy. I have not yet met the creature that could argue against that.
The blaring orchestra brings me back from my wandering thoughts just as a kaleidoscope of colors explodes all around the dimly lit establishment. Bright reds that soften into pink hues, accompanied by vivid violets and swirls of cerulean melting into silver, envelop my senses. It feels like stepping into a surreal painting that dissipates to make way for the devastatingly blond beauty on stage.
Fuck me.
My target tonight is simply stunning.
Blond waves so pale they almost gleam silver cascade down her back, while the prettiest cyanic eyes I’ve ever seen—after my own, of course—take in the crowd gathered tonight to worship her every movement.
Scratch that.
They’re prettier than mine, I realize with a start, as mischief gleams in them, lighting them up from the inside to incandescent levels.
Her svelte body is wrapped in a shimmering, almost see-through, opalescent unitard that catches the flickers of light her fingertips emanate. It’s like she’s a ray of moonlight personified.
My jaw slackens as I stare, flabbergasted, as Aimee’s friend whirls her body on stage, sending beams of liquid starlight in every direction. She undulates her body in rhythm with the orchestra, swaying her luscious hips as if she were born to do this. To mesmerize gullible males, myself included.
The music swells to a maddening tempo, and she’s caught in a perpetual pirouette of delicate carnality. I’ve seen nothing like it before.
Just as the song reaches a dramatic peak, she leaps mid-twirl from the stage and, for a perfect moment frozen in time, she floats through the air towards me, her long limbs like silk ribbons in the wind.
Oh, how good she’d look all tied up in said ribbons, all at my mercy.
No, Blaise, focus.
