Chapter 20 #3
I wandered through the space, hands in my pockets, just absorbing the vibe.
It was weird—seeing the whole pack’s work in one room, knowing how many of them had bled or fought or nearly died for the privilege of eating canapés under a string of twinkle lights.
I thought about the nightmares, about the weight of Maltraz’s attention, but right now, it was like all that darkness belonged to someone else.
I made a circuit of the room, chatting with prospects as they set up chairs and rearranged hi-top tables, checking the perimeter out of habit. Nothing felt off. Even the air was calm.
Then I wandered over to the gallery side. There she was at the top of the staircase that led down from the gallery’s mezzanine office.
Brie.
She stood there, both hands on the rail, her dress flowing behind her like she were riding a breeze no one else could see.
The sage green was lighter than it looked in her closet, almost silver in the artificial light, and the flashes of purple were like violet lightning every time she moved.
The neckline plunged, and every inch of skin was dusted with a shimmer that made her look unearthly.
Her hair was up in a twist, with the blue streaks fanned out like flames at the nape of her neck.
Around her throat were three necklaces, each more complicated than the last, and she’d gone heavy on the eye makeup, smoky and smudged and just a little wild.
The effect was somewhere between debutante and bandit queen.
My breath left me like I’d taken a punch.
She didn’t walk—she floated down the stairs, pausing halfway to look out over the room. People actually stopped talking to watch her. Even the servers. I wasn’t the only one slack-jawed.
At the bottom, she hesitated, then caught my eye. That grin—mischief and relief in one package—broke the spell, and she ran the last few steps to me, nearly slipping in her boots.
I caught her, arms around her waist. She pressed her face into my shoulder, then whispered, “Don’t say anything. Just hold me.”
“Gladly,” I said, squeezing her tight. “You okay?”
She leaned back, eyes shining. “Not even a little. But I will be.”
“You look—” I tried to find the words, but nothing fit. “—like you.”
She smiled, then pecked my cheek, careful not to get her lipstick on me. “You look pretty damn good yourself, cowboy. I don’t know whether to kiss you or frisk you for weapons.”
“Why not both?” I muttered, earning another laugh.
She laced her fingers through mine and pulled me toward the cake. “Look at this. Aspen’s a genius.”
“I know. I already told her.”
“I’m going to get so fat. I want to eat every bite.”
“I’ll roll you home,” I said. “Or just carry you.”
She squeezed my hand, and for a minute, everything felt like it was supposed to.
Then I heard Lysander’s laugh, sharp as a knife, from the entryway.
He swept in with Inez on his arm, both of them done up to the nines.
Lysander had on a suit that probably cost more than my truck, navy with black velvet lapels, and he moved like he owned every molecule in the room.
Inez was in a short, spangly number, her hair in an elaborate updo, makeup flawless.
They looked like they’d walked off a runway.
Lysander made a show of noticing us, then glided over, a glass of champagne already in hand.
“My, my, you make a striking figure all cleaned up, Mr. Walsh,” he said, his eyes roving up and down the length of me, then lingering on Brie. “And as for you, darling—there are no words.”
Brie grinned, basking in the attention. “Thanks, Sander. You look expensive.”
He belted out a laugh, then turned back to me, voice dropping into something a little too intimate. “I was hoping we’d get a moment alone tonight. There are things we should discuss with regard to Brie’s art. About… the next phase.”
Something in the way he said it made my skin crawl.
I stepped forward, a hand at the small of Brie’s back. “Nice to see you, Lysander. Everything looks great.”
He smirked, like he knew exactly what I was doing, then tipped his glass to me. “You’re a lucky man, Finn. Don’t ever forget it.”
Brie rolled her eyes, then elbowed me in the ribs. “I need to go say hi to Harper and Juliet before the crowd gets here. You gonna be okay without me?”
“I can handle myself,” I said.
She squeezed my arm, then drifted off into the crowd.
Lysander watched her go, then leaned in. “If you hurt her, I’ll have to kill you,” he said, not quite joking.
I stared him down. “Odd threat seeing as how you barely know her. And right back at you, buddy.”
He grinned. “Touché, cowboy.”
Then, he and Inez vanished into a group of buyers, who'd started arriving, laughing and air-kissing like it was what they were born to do.
I stood by the cake, feeling like the last man standing at a wedding reception. I wandered to the bar and asked for a finger of whisky, tried to blend in, and kept an eye on the door.
I never wanted to punch anyone in the face more than that guy. It was going to be a long night. But at least for now, I could see my mate in the middle of the crowd, shining so bright even the darkness took a bow.