14. Katalina
KATALINA
I stared at Gideon.
Gideon scowled back.
Then I looked down at the suit hanging from my hand. Then back at him.
“No.” His response came immediately.
Flat.
Absolute.
“No,” he repeated.
I crossed my arms.
“You are insisting on coming with me,” I calmly explained as if I were trying to explain something to a child, “which means you cannot walk into Black Hollow Curiosities dressed like a six-foot-four biker enforcer who looks like he eats people.”
“I don’t eat people,” he practically growled.
I lifted a brow.
“You literally turn into a giant cursed wolf creature.”
He frowned. “That feels completely unrelated.”
Blinking slowly, I stared at him.
Again, he stared back. Then slowly dropped his attention to the suit in my hand.
“Uh-uh… absolutely not.”
Twenty minutes later—I was enjoying myself immensely.
“Oh my God,” Lyra whispered from where she sat on the couch beside Mako as Gideon came down the stairs.
Mako’s head swiveled to glare at her as he looked seconds away from the blackmail-material-worthy murder of his best friend.
Zeus had tears in his eyes. Actual tears.
Hack had his phone out.
“Hack,” Gideon ground out a warning.
Hack slowly lowered it.
“Coward,” Spook muttered to Hack as he tried to hide his grin.
Because Gideon—Sergeant at Arms of the Kings of Anarchy, massive Rougarou, terrifying enforcer of the club’s rules—was glowering at all of us while wearing charcoal-gray slacks and a fitted black dress shirt. The expensive matching jacket hung carelessly from his fingertips.
And somehow… somehow… the bastard looked unfairly good. I kind of hated that. Because I had expected awkward. Uncomfortable. Maybe a little ridiculous.
Instead, he looked like some wealthy, old-money criminal who casually ruined lives and collected expensive watches. The shirt stretched across his shoulders and chest in a way that should’ve irritated me.
It got under my skin for entirely different reasons.
I squinted my eyes suspiciously. “You’ve worn suits before.”
His gaze narrowed immediately. “No.”
I absolutely did not believe him. When would he have worn suits, though? I suddenly didn’t like that there were things about Gideon’s past that I didn’t know.
He adjusted the sleeves like they offended him personally. “I fucking hate this.”
Mako looked between us. Then looked at Gideon again. Then looked at me.
“Nope,” he announced.
I frowned. “Nope what?”
He pointed between us. “Nope.”
Lyra smacked his arm as she started to laugh. “Stop it.”
“Traitor,” Mako practically hissed at her, but she was still smiling.
Gideon’s eyes cut toward me. “Can we leave now?”
Tapping my chin, I considered making him suffer longer. Briefly. Then decided I wanted to survive the evening.
“Fine,” I conceded as I smoothed my Chanel pantsuit.
My hair was slicked back and fastened in a tight, low bun.
Tiffany diamond earrings swung, brushing my neck delicately with each click of my Louboutin heels on the concrete floor.
When I reached the entrance, I paused and glanced back over my shoulder at the man who looked like straight sin. “Well?”
His nostrils flared and he shrugged the jacket on like he’d done it a million times before, then stalked after me.
As I gracefully lowered myself into my Mercedes-Benz GT 63 Pro, my fingertips caressed the smooth leather of the steering wheel as I tried not to smile at the sexy beast folding himself into the passenger seat.
“Mmm, I’ve missed you, baby,” I crooned to the car.
A low growl rumbled from next to me.
In my peripheral vision, I could see him fuming. I wanted to laugh at his obvious jealousy of a car. Instead, I put it in gear and headed into the city.
The French Quarter practically pulsed with a life of its own around us.
Music drifted through the streets, mixing with laughter and cigarette smoke and spilled alcohol. Humans moved around us in waves beneath glowing streetlamps, completely unaware of what shared the sidewalks with them.
Or maybe they knew and chose not to look too closely.
Smart.
Black Hollow Curiosities sat near the end of a quieter street. Elegant black lettering curved across the front windows. No prices displayed. No advertisements. Just old brick, dark glass, and antique gold trim.
Expensive. Discreet. Dangerous.
Gideon looked up at the sign. “This is an antique shop?”
“Technically,” I shrugged.
He looked unconvinced. Good instincts.
We stepped inside. The bell above the door chimed softly.
Immediately—wrong. The entire place felt off. Not threatening. Not hostile. Just… unnatural. As if everything glitched and we were walking through a dimension one second behind or ahead of the rest of the world.
Artifacts lined shelves and glass displays. Old books. Strange objects. Paintings whose eyes seemed to follow our every movement.
Magic clung to the air like a rich perfume. And behind the counter stood a man in a dark vest with his sleeves rolled neatly to his forearms. Mid-forties in appearance. Dark hair streaked lightly at the temples. Sharp jaw. Perfect posture. Cold gray eyes.
He looked up slowly from the book in his hands. Those icy eyes landed on me. Held. Then a small smile curved his mouth.
“Katalina,” he purred.
Oh no.
No, no, no. I knew that smile.
“You’re alive.”
I narrowed my eyes. “Disappointed?”
“Not at all.” His eyes widened in mock innocence.
Liar.
Then his gaze shifted. Toward Gideon. Hesitated. Stayed. Long enough for me to feel Gideon tense beside me.
Dorian softly closed the book and set it on the counter like one would something delicate and precious. Then smiled wider.
“Well,” he drawled smoothly. His eyes slid back to mine.
“Katalina.” He paused, as he continued smiling. “Still breaking hearts and starting wars, I see.”
Beside me—absolute stillness.
Deadly calm.
Slowly, I turned.
Gideon’s expression had gone completely blank. Which was so much worse. Because I’d already learned something about Gideon Bourque. Blank meant violence was brewing as it considered its options.
Internally, I could practically hear him, “I am going to throw this bastard into the Mississippi.”
And for reasons I absolutely refused to examine—I found that deeply satisfying.