Chapter 17
When Clare arrived at the Motham Tower complex, set on a street full of edgy restaurants and bars, she stopped and stared up at it for long moments.
The building itself was modern, but made of ancient Malibar stone, tying in the old and new.
It was a grand design, with large glass revolving doors.
When she walked in, two bouncers, a bulked satyr and a raven shifter, by the look of his glossy black hair and classic beaked nose, greeted her and checked her name against a list. Then a pretty rabbit shifter sashayed over and handed her a name tag.
“This way please.”
Clare nodded, and their high heels tapped in unison across the foyer to the elevator.
“Enjoy your evening, ma’am. Take the elevator down to the basement.”
The rabbit shifter smiled sweetly and Clare smiled back as the doors closed. She swiped her tag on the panel. The lift whooshed down so fast, the doors had opened again before she knew it.
She stared in wonderment.
The Den sure suited its title.
The walls were covered in plush, deep red wallpaper and the furnishings were opulent.
Leather loungers and velvet couches were set strategically around the room, and huge chandeliers sparkled from the ceilings.
There was a wide circular bar, lined with shelves holding every liqueur and spirit under the sun.
All around the room, monster species lounged in dinner suits, conversing with beautifully dressed humans.
In a corner, a jazz band played sultry, bluesy numbers.
A moment later, Emmeline, wearing a gold lamé dress with a winged collar and bling everywhere, swooped on her.
“Clare, I’ve been waiting for you to arrive.” She greeted Clare with a hug and air kisses on both cheeks. “Look at you, so divine.” She tucked Clare’s arm into hers and cooed, “I am going to introduce you to some wonderful monsters.”
Soon, Clare had met a bear shifter who ran a chain of gymnasiums and was so buff he looked like he might burst out of his tux, a wily werewolf entrepreneur dressed in an immaculate navy blue suit, and a centaur with a flowing mane of hair who told her he was a filmmaker and that she’d look wonderful in one of his movies.
They pressed their cards into her hand, offered to buy her drinks, which she tried to refuse, and laughed too loudly at her comments.
She spotted Emmaline darting around, introducing humans to monsters. She was working the crowd, there was no denying it, charming monsters and humans alike, gazing into their faces like they were the most fascinating creatures she had ever met.
Oh yeah, she did it well. Emmaline inspired your confidence and trust immediately.
It was hard to believe it might be for more sinister reasons.
And if Clare found herself trusting her, how could someone as shy and sheltered as Natalie have been expected to respond? She’d be swept up in it, no question.
Half an hour later, Clare was being bored rigid by a brash troglodyte going on about his business enterprises, when Emmaline sidled up.
“Now, don’t mind if I steal Anna away, will you Roger?
” She practically nuzzled Clare’s neck. Okay, so that was maybe a little over familiar, but Clare would put up with just about anything to get away from Roger’s monologue.
“Anna has to meet our host.” Emmaline smirked, and the monster laid a big scaly hand on her arm and said, “I hope you will consider working for me, Anna.”
Clare cast him her best dazzling smile. “So lovely to meet you, and I hope your fake skin purses keep doing really well. I must buy one—after I get a job.”
‘My dear. Here’s my card, we’d love to have you.”
“Sure, I—I—let’s talk again soon,” she said, and let herself be led away.
“You can do way better than Roger.” Emmaline giggled, then whispered in her ear as they neared a set of large, ornately carved double doors. “Just one little thing before you meet our benefactor. He likes to keep these meetings hush hush, so no talky-talky, or the other humans will get jealous.”
“Of course, I understand. Can I know his name?”
“We just call him the Master. A little joke really, to conceal his identity. You’re the only human he’s chosen to meet tonight.”
“I’m flattered,” Clare murmured, touching her necklace. Master. The name had a cultish ring to it.
“Okay, in we go. It’s a little dark in here, so mind your step.”
The room was indeed dimly lit, decorated in purple with red lanterns. The feeling was lush and sensual, the smell strangely alluring, an incense that was heady and intoxicating. Clare felt a somnolence descend on her limbs the moment she stepped inside.
“I will be here with you the whole time,” Emmaline whispered, giving her arm a reassuring squeeze.
At first it was hard to see if anyone else was there. But as Emmaline led her forward, she saw a ring of candles, illuminating what looked almost like a throne, set up on a plinth.
There was a male sprawled there, legs spread-eagled, encased in tight leather pants.
As they got closer, Clare could see just how devastatingly good looking he was.
Her gaze took in his chiseled bone structure and angled jaw, his haughty brows and dark eyes.
A black silk shirt was undone to the waist to show off his perfect pecs and abs.
Vampire. She was sure of it.
He plucked at his full lower lip as he watched them draw closer, black eyes narrowed on her. Clare had the peculiar sense that she was being pulled into a vortex, something dark and sinister. She had to use all her willpower to withstand the effect.
“Beguiling.” It was a lazy drawl as his gaze swept up and down her. “Just stunning.”
A shiver skittered down her spine. The sense that he was vampire was even stronger now. Except this guy had a very different energy to Oliver. Dark and cloying. And he smelled different, too. There was a sickly sweetness to his cologne that made her feel vaguely nauseous.
Was this Matteus? She’d seen photos of him, but while there was a resemblance, he seemed more handsome than the pictures on file.
With a jolt, she remembered she was supposed to be a na?ve human and let out a small, breathy giggle. “Oh, thank you.”
“What is your name, little one?”
“Anna. Anna Greenwood.”
“And how beautiful you are. Come closer, Anna.”
“Go on, he won’t bite.” Emmaline gave her a gentle push.
Clare took the steps up to the plinth. He stood to greet her, all honed muscle and graceful movements.
As he took her hand in his, she noticed it was encased in a glove.
A glittering gold ring with a huge diamond adorned the middle finger of his left hand.
The same finger as Oliver’s, but a very different ring.
Ostentatious, where Oliver’s was understated.
She took in every detail, committed them to memory.
Those sharply winged cheekbones, his smooth tan skin.
There was a small mole above his left eyebrow, and his eyes were slanted slightly upward.
There was a diamond stud in his left nostril.
His mouth was sultry and brooding, and around his jaw was a dusting of fine dark stubble.
He was almost too handsome, if that were possible.
And he left her completely cold. So fucking cold, she could feel it seeping into her bones.
Be careful, Clare.
He waved a hand toward the velvet sofa opposite. “Sit with me. Let’s chat.”
She perched on the sofa as he lounged back on his gilt-edged chair. Emmaline sat down next to her, acting like a sweet, reassuring presence. Too reassuring, in fact—Clare felt herself being lulled, seduced by the triangulation of energy between the three of them.
She pulled herself up short. Focused on her mission.
“So Anna, what brings you to Motham?”
She trotted out her little spiel about not reaching her potential in Tween. He nodded, and when she’d finished, said, “Monsters will pay top coin for your skills.”
“As a PA?”
“Of course, what else would I mean?” His brows raised, his smile amused. “Though that role would, of course, be merely a stepping stone.”
“A stepping stone to what?” Clare realized her tone sounded too sharp and softened it. “I’m new to the way of monsters. I’m just trying to understand my options.”
Emmaline reached over and squeezed her hand. “I felt like you when I first arrived here, and now look at me, running my own show.”
“Are you wanting a bigger, better, brighter future, Anna? To run your own show, like Emmaline?” the Master drawled.
“Oh, absolutely. I’m eager to get ahead. Life in Tween was so dull.”
“SOOO dull.” Emmaline rolled her eyes dramatically. “I almost died there of boredom!”
“Women such as you, Anna, are too beautiful to be wasted on dull little human towns.” The Master smirked.
Emmaline seemed to fluff up a little. “That was my asset too, wasn’t it, Master—my beauty?”
He gave her a condescending smile. “Indeed.”
Urgh, how sexist. But even so, Clare could understand how addictive his attention might be to some.
“I’m keen to discover my authentic self,” she murmured. “And partake of everything on offer.”
“Bravo, little dove. One of our most powerful employers is currently looking for a personal assistant. And you fit his criteria on every count,” the Master purred. “Unfortunately he couldn’t be here tonight, but Emmaline will organize an interview.”
Emmaline giggled. “Consider it done!”
Clare tinkled out a laugh. “Oh gosh. Now I am utterly intrigued.” She was dying to fire out a volley of questions, but acting shrewd and savvy was not what was needed here.
She needed to be trusting and eager. “I’d be honored to meet him—Master.
” She almost choked on her own sugary tone, but it seemed to do the trick.
He gave her what most women would consider a heart-stopping smile.
It sure near stopped her heart, but not in a good way.
“Splendid.” The master rubbed his gloved palms together.
“Thank you for putting me forward, Master,” Clare added, batting her false lashes. Emmaline leaned over and hugged her. “You are going to get the job, sweetheart, I just know it.”
Clare wondered if Natalie had sat in this same chair, been overwhelmed by the attention, felt cared about by Emmaline, flattered by this sinister yet handsome guy with the over-the-top Romeo vibe. Urgh.
“Emmaline will let you know the time and place,” the Master said.
He stood, and she realized she was being dismissed, which was, frankly, a relief. She hoped the camera in her pendant would get a clear view of him.
He took her hand to his mouth, turned it and lay a kiss right on the inside of her wrist, then took a deep breath, as if inhaling her scent.
“Ah, beautiful inside and out,” he husked.
She wanted to whip her arm away, but she managed a coy little laugh, as if delighted by his attention, and fought the urge to rub the feel of his lips off her skin.
Was that a fang she detected? She blinked and it was gone, his features suddenly hard and unsmiling, his eyes like shards of black ice.
A shiver ran down Clare’s spine, chilling her to the marrow of her bones.
“Goodbye, Anna. We will meet again very soon,” he murmured. “Enjoy the rest of the evening.”