Chapter 17
Zed
W hen Cari steps out of the limousine, she takes my breath away. She’s always beautiful, but all dressed up, she assassinates my heart. Her dress reminds me of the one she wore for our ill-fated date way back when, but it’s the sophisticated, grown-up version, and her blonde bob is styled into 1920s waves. She’s a bombshell .
I’m not the only one who notices, either. Everyone around me is looking at her, too. But even in a crowd, her eyes immediately lock onto mine, her face brightening when she sees Radar by my side. She missed us as much as we missed her.
It’d be perfect if it weren’t for the goddamn incubus holding her hand. At my feet, Radar’s nostrils flare, his feathery little tail wagging as he catches Cari’s scent. His feet start tippy-tapping in excitement until they draw near.
The moment Tristan’s hellfire hits us, the hair on Radar’s spine lifts, and a warning growl slips out.
“I know, buddy. I feel the same way,” I tell him, leaning to scoop him up under my arm. While I’d like to bite Tristan’s ankles as much as he would, I don’t want Cari to have a moment of unpleasantness tonight.
“You found it!” Cari gushes, straightening Radar’s bowtie before scratching between his ears. “Thanks so much for dog-sitting. I can’t tell you how much I needed a day off. I feel relaxed for the first time in forever.”
I lean close to kiss her on the cheek in greeting and murmur, “I remember you being pretty relaxed last night.”
When I pull back, her cheeks are pink, and try as she might, she can’t keep the smile off her face. “Shhh,” she fusses, glancing at Tristan, who definitely overheard because I wanted him to.
His mouth is tight as he extends his hand to shake mine. “Luckily they washed all the dragon stench off her at the spa,” he says flatly, squeezing way too hard. I have no problem squeezing just as hard in return.
As if on cue, Radar growls menacingly from underneath my arm, and Tristan hurriedly steps back. He plucks a single stray dog hair from his lapel, frowning as he brushes more invisible ones off the front of his tuxedo shirt.
He thinks he could compete for Cari’s heart when he’s concerned about a little dog hair? Fucking idiot. “This is the Alliance for Animal Welfare gala. If you’re allergic to pet fur, you should have picked a different event.”
His return gaze is cool. “ You should have picked a different tux.”
Fuck. The fur lapels. I knew I shouldn’t have let Gabe talk me into this one.
“It’s vintage,” I say defensively.
None of the rental shops in San Drogo had tuxes available in my size, so Gabe, Radar, and I ended up at a cool vintage shop by the waterfront where the proprietor, a trolless with a dozen sparkling rings in her large, pointed ears, didn’t mind Radar coming inside the shop. She had eagerly shown us her collection of classic tuxedos with tail-holes.
Gabe, who’s always been more fashion-forward than me, pulled a navy wool jacket with black curly-lamb lapels from the rack immediately.
I was skeptical at first, but it fit perfectly. The matching black pants even had some extra room in the crotch in case of a rogue half-shift.
“It looks like it was made for you,” the trolless crooned as she tied a black bowtie that matched Radar’s at the collar. She stepped back, looking me up and down. “Absolute perfection. I should hire you to model for my shop.”
Gabe nodded. “Seriously, dude, it’s sharp. You look straight off of this year’s Tokyo runways.”
I checked myself out in the mirror, trying to imagine what Cari would think of it. Would she be proud to be on my arm tonight? “I like it, but I don’t know about the fur,” I mused aloud.
“It’s respecting the animal to wear vintage fur,” the trolless assured me. “Plus, curly-lamb is a byproduct of the meat industry. It’s not like mink where it’s just raised for fashion.”
“Cari will love it,” Gabe added. “She can’t keep her hands off her dog, right? She’ll be petting you all night.”
So I went with it. But judging by the sideways looks I’m getting, not just from Tristan but others milling around the venue entrance, too, it was a bad choice.
“I’ll take it off when we get inside,” I tell Cari, offering her my free arm. She takes it, but Tristan doesn’t relinquish his hold on her other arm, so she’s sandwiched between us.
“I feel like a princess with her bodyguards,” she jokes, obviously trying to lighten the mood.
It doesn’t get any better inside, when we get to our assigned table and Tristan and I have a short tussle over who gets to pull out Cari’s chair.
Tristan wins since I’m still carrying Radar. My feral form and I both growl at his smug expression.
“Hey,” Cari whispers when I take the seat on her left and put my jacket under the table for Radar to use as a makeshift dog bed. “Stop. He’s just being nice. Don’t forget he gave us the extra ticket so you could come, okay?”
Right. I need to stay cool. She’s my mate. Not even shitty demon-magic can change that. And I don’t want to ruin her event by acting like a dick just because he’s acting like a dick.
Tristan, of course, sits on her right. He appears riveted by the speakers during dinner, even standing to applaud some of them, and I can tell Cari approves, glowing every time he shows his support.
I don’t know why it rankles me so much, but the performance he’s putting on makes my scales itch. He’s so fake. Everything about him is fake, from his perfect hair to his spotless shoes. I wonder if his beloved pet is even real.
Even Radar knows he’s bad news. But my biggest ally is asleep on my jacket under the table, in a food coma after eating a dog dinner to rival the one served to the sapient guests.
“…the incredible Dr. Caroline Stanley,” a dapper man at the podium exclaims, jarring me out of my thoughts. I was so caught up in hating Tristan that I completely missed what he said.
Tristan’s already on his feet, helping Cari to the stage. Damn, that should be me.
“What did she win?” I ask the woman next to me, who’s clapping loudly.
“The AAW Presidential Service Award,” she says, eyes shining as she watches Cari. “I knew she’d get it. She’s amazing. I’m so excited to be at her table.”
“Me too,” I say, meaning it.
“When the Alliance invited me to speak tonight, they didn’t tell me they were giving me an award first,” Cari says warmly into the mic, clutching the crystal statue to her chest as she blinks back tears. “I hardly feel right accepting it when so many people made it possible.”
As she rattles off a list of names, Tristan retakes his seat, casually draping his arm over the back of Cari’s chair. I scoot the chair with my foot so his arm falls off and replace it with my own.
He rolls his eyes. “Not surprising you’re pissing on your territory like the beast you are.”
My inner beast flexes, offering to show him what our feral form looks like, but I push him down, eyes on my mate. She’s glowing up there. Shining for everyone to see. I am not going to fuck this up by shifting, no matter how much Tristan goads me.
“You’re just jealous I have the one thing money can’t buy.”
“Can’t it?” he purrs, turning his incubus glamour on me. Can’t lie, he’s good at what he does. Even I have trouble resisting his magnetism when he leans in conspiratorially. “I didn’t have any trouble getting her out of her clothes at the spa earlier. Only cost ten thousand dollars. Here’s the trick with Cari, though. You can’t buy her. You have to buy everyone else. The question for you is, can you afford them?” He winks, and the silly, glamoured part of me melts even as my feral form explodes with rage inside me.
Mate. We don’t have to buy her. She’s ours already.
My hand flexes with the need to claw the smug look off Tristan’s face, and the back rail of the chair cracks. He snickers. He knows he’s making me lose control. That’s what he’s trying to do with his nasty little demon tricks. But if he wants to play these dangerous games? There’s nothing a dragon is better at than playing with fire.
By the time Cari is done with her uplifting speech, the room is buzzing with energy. Donation envelopes are passed out, and I see a lot of zeros on the checks that are eagerly written in the wake of her moving words. And when she walks off that stage? I’m right there, hand out, to help her down the steps and back to our seats.
“You were incredible,” I tell her as I quickly swap her broken chair for my intact one and make space on the table for the heavy award statue. “I bet you doubled their donations with that speech.”
“Tripled,” Tristan says, handing her his check. Over her shoulder, I see that it’s made out for a half-million dollars.
“Oh my god,” she gasps, the slip of paper trembling in her fingers. “This is incredible, Tristan. They’re going to be able to do so much with this.”
His expression of triumph makes my stomach turn. He’s right. I’ll never get rid of him. All he has to do to own Cari’s loyalty and affection is to buy everyone else. Her employees, her friends, the charitable organizations she supports… If they are happy, she’ll be putty in his hands.
“How much did you donate, Dragon?” Tristan asks. Cari frowns, but I can’t tell if it’s at his rude question or the fact that my empty envelope is still on the table in front of me. The answer is obvious: I haven’t donated anything yet.
“His name is Zed,” Cari says firmly, answering that question.
“I’m waiting for the silent auction.” I quickly pocket the envelope like I might put a check in it later. I will put a check in it later. It’s just not going to amount to anything close to what Tristan can cough up. Demons have a way with money. Probably eighty percent of billionaires have some demon ancestry.
Dragons aren’t bad with money either, though. And that’s because we know how to protect what’s valuable.
“You don’t have to donate,” Cari says, sounding worried. She reaches out to stroke my forearm. “I didn’t invite you to squeeze money out of you. I just wanted to spend time with you while you’re in town.”
“How long are you in town, big guy?” Tristan asks, raising one brow. It’s a warning that if I don’t play by his rules, he’s going to tell her about all the little white lies I’ve told this week. About the tech conference, the “chance” meeting.
“Zed,” Cari reminds him, but there’s something quiet about her. She wants know the answer to his question, too.
“My work is flexible. I can do a lot of it remotely, so there’s not a set date I have to leave.”
“Zed’s in tech like you!” Cari says, sounding delighted to introduce the subject we have in common.
“I know.” Tristan tips back in his chair like the indolent demon he really is. “I looked him up after we ran into him in the park. Wanted to make sure he wasn’t some kind of predator. Cute little startup you got there. Had any buyer interest? My firm sometimes acquires that type of thing. It might actually go somewhere if it has the support of a bigger company behind it.”
I grind my teeth, dragonfire tickling the back of my throat. “We’re not looking to sell.”
“I mean, obviously. But you could whip it into shape. I’d be happy to give you some pointers.”
Cari beams at him. “That’s so nice of you. Isn’t that nice of him, Zed?”
Tristan raises his brows at me expectantly. I grimace, torn between making her happy and telling the truth. I just don’t have it in me to kiss his ass, though. “A little presumptuous, actually. Our company’s doing great. And since you did your research , you know that our apps are outperforming our competitors by a hundred-and-fifty percent. That’s because users love them. We’re not spending any more on marketing or packaging.”
Tristan cocks his head to the side. “Aren’t you the marketing guy, though?”
“We both do a little bit of everything, but yeah, I do most of the marketing.”
“So you’re saying most of the value in the company is on the tech side. Maybe my advice to your company is that your business partner doesn’t need the dead weight.”
His words are like a punch in the stomach. I know I’m lucky to partner with Gabe. He has expertise I don’t. But he wouldn’t be able to run the business without me, either. “Maybe you should stop talking before I make you regret saying that. I’m happy to take this outside.”
“Stop it,” Cari pleads in a whisper. “Don’t be like this tonight.” When I look at her face, tears are welling in her eyes. Past her, I see victory in Tristan’s fleeting expression before he rearranges it into one of concern.
Shit, fuck, damn. I took his bait.
He likes that she’s upset. He’s not just trying to get me out of the picture, he’s trying to teach her a lesson. Just like he buys Cari through everyone else, he punishes her through everyone else, too. He’s angry she invited me to the event, so he’s hurting her by goading me into bad behavior.
I’m not going to let him use me like that anymore.
“I’m sorry, Cari. I shouldn’t have said that. Can I get you something to drink? Do you want to dance?” I hold out a hand, hoping she’ll remember how we held hands all night last night.
To my relief, she takes it.