Chapter 6
Chapter six
Luna
“I look ridiculous,” I muttered, tugging at the midnight-blue gown that shimmered like starlight whenever I moved. “Like I’m playing dress-up in someone else’s life.”
I didn’t recognize my reflection in the full-length mirror. The woman staring back at me looked elegant, powerful, and completely unlike the person who crawled through ancient tombs in cargo pants and climbing gear.
The dress Damien had chosen hugged my body in all the right places before flowing to the floor in a cascade of fabric that seemed to capture and reflect light from within.
It made my honey-blonde hair look richer, my skin more luminous, and my eyes—just a boring light brown—glow with something almost supernatural.
Amber, the stylist Damien had sent over, made a final adjustment to my hair, which she’d curled in an intricate updo with a few strategic tendrils framing my face.
“You look perfect,” she said with a smile. “The gown’s protective enchantments are fully activated. They’ll repel minor curses, prevent most forms of magical tracking, and make you resistant to glamour.”
“Can’t it also make me invisible and bulletproof while we’re at it?” I asked, only half joking as I adjusted the small silver dagger concealed in a custom thigh holster.
Amber’s lips twitched. “Mr. Cross considered those enhancements, but they would have created a magical signature too distinctive for a stealth operation.”
Of course he had. Why was I not surprised?
“How many weapons are you carrying?” Dr. Felix asked from the doorway, where he’d been watching the last few minutes of my transformation.
He’d be attending Selene’s gala as well, though apart from us to avoid any obvious connection.
“Only three,” I said defensively. “The silver dagger, a small iron blade for fae, and something special in case of emergency.” I tapped the ornate hairpin securing my updo, which contained a hollow needle filled with a rare paralytic potion. “Standard tomb raider formal wear, right?”
Felix chuckled as he fussed with his bow tie. “I’ve known you for years, yet I’ve never seen you so gussied up.”
I grinned. “That’s my advantage.”
“So it is. But remember,” he cautioned, “Selene’s domain operates under old magic. Promises made there can be binding. Words have power. Be precise in what you say and agree to.”
“So basically, don’t accidentally sell my soul for canapes,” I summarized. “Got it.”
“I’m serious, Luna.” Felix’s weathered face creased with genuine concern. “Many of Selene’s guests attend specifically to make deals with the desperate or unwary. And you, my dear, are both desperate and occasionally unwary.”
I turned to face him, touched by his worry. “I’ll be careful. Promise. No soul selling, no blood oaths, no drinking anything that glows unnaturally.”
“Your fiancé taught you well, it seems. I’ll meet you downstairs,” he said, turning. “I’ll bet he’ll be here for you any second.”
“Before I go, I should take a selfie for Jade.” I spun around to look for my phone and spotted it on my bed. “And I should check on—“
A knock sounded from below.
“Speak of the devil,” I muttered and took a quick photo of myself.
The Repository’s grand entrance hall echoed with my heels as I descended the staircase—unnecessarily dramatic, but Amber had insisted I practice “making an entrance” for tonight’s event.
And there stood Damien. He wore a tailored tuxedo in black so deep it seemed to absorb light, making the white of his shirt almost startling by contrast. At his throat gleamed a midnight-blue tie that matched my dress.
He’d slicked his raven curls back, which somehow made his blue eyes even more electrifying.
He looked…breathtaking.
For a moment, he simply stood there, his eyes widening as they took in my appearance. Something flickered across his face as his lips parted, something I couldn’t name, while he just stood there staring.
A swarm of doubts suddenly plummeted my gut to my knees. Was he disappointed that I couldn’t even pretend to play the part of his fiancée? Was he expecting something more? Did I have a booger? What?
“You’re staring,” I blurted. “Is something wrong? I’m not used to dressing like this.”
“I…” He shook his head as if to clear it, his loose curls flirting with the collar of his tux. “Nothing’s wrong. You look…formidable.”
I smiled. “Formidable? That’s your go-to compliment?”
“I meant it as the highest praise,” he rushed to say. “You look like exactly what you are, someone no one should underestimate.”
Oh. Okay, then. Well, if he thought that, then maybe I really could do this.
“Good. You don’t look too shabby yourself.” An understatement, obviously.
In that tux, the man looked like a walking vibrator, able to help you reach climax in 0.5 seconds.
I started down the steps and then took his offered arm.
Then a thought snapped over my tongue, too fast for me to reel it back in.
“Those pretty panties you picked out for me? Awful trip to Wedgie City.”
“I apolo—“
“So I’m not wearing any,” I whispered.
His lips parted again as he gazed down at me with such intensity that my blood sparked hotter. The charged air surrounding us caged us in for several heartbeats. My breaths grew shallower and shallower until my chest heaved for more oxygen, which made the room spin faster.
Felix cleared his throat, and the spell shattered.
“I believe you have one last detail to attend to?” he prompted Damien.
“Ah, yes.” Damien cleared his throat, blanked his face, and produced a small velvet box from his pocket. “The final touch for our performance tonight.”
He opened the box, revealing a ring that made my breath catch. An oval-cut sapphire the color of golden honey, surrounded by smaller diamonds that seemed to capture and refract light in impossible ways. The band was white gold or platinum, intricately engraved with symbols I didn’t recognize.
“This engagement ring has been in my family for generations,” Damien explained. “Felix knew of a jeweler in the city who had it resized and polished for tonight.”
“It’s stunning,” I whispered, unable to tear my eyes away from the ring. “And probably worth more than everything I’ve owned in my entire life.”
“May I?” he asked, removing the ring from its box.
I extended my left hand, aware of how intimate this gesture felt. His cool fingers brushed against mine as he slipped the ring into place. It fit perfectly, another detail he’d somehow anticipated, and felt lighter than its size would suggest.
He already wore a ring similar to mine, and it twinkled when it caught the light.
“Now we’re official,” I said, still trying to draw a proper breath. “Officially engaged.”
It felt so strange saying that out loud. Or thinking it. Or acting it.
Damien cleared his throat and stepped back. “I believe ‘mutually respectful political alliance with undertones of genuine affection’ is what we’re aiming for.”
“Romantic,” I deadpanned. “You should write greeting cards.”
Felix coughed in what sounded suspiciously like concealed laughter. “I’ll see you both at the gala.” He looked at me meaningfully. “My staff will call me if there’s any change, so try not to worry this evening.”
Yeah, no. That would never happen. I glanced up at the large clock above the door and firmed my lips. We needed to leave right now to get there on time.
With an understanding nod, Felix slipped out to his own waiting car.
Damien offered me his arm once again. “Shall we, Ms. Rookwood? Or should I say, future Mrs. Cross?”
“Call me that again, and I’ll stab you with one of my concealed weapons,” I threatened sweetly, taking his arm. “Let’s go crash this party and find our gross skin map.”
Selene’s estate made Damien’s borrowed mansion look modest by comparison. As our car joined the line of luxury vehicles approaching the main gate, I caught my first glimpse of the house itself—a massive neoclassical structure with columns that glowed blue in the gathering darkness.
“That’s not normal architecture,” I said, noting how certain parts of the building seemed to shift subtly when viewed from the corner of my eye.
“I did some homework. Selene’s residence exists partially between realms,” Damien explained. “Certain sections phase in and out of this reality depending on the lunar cycle.”
“Oh, sure, makes sense,” I muttered. “Why have a normal mansion when you can have one that occasionally goes on vacation to another dimension?”
Damien chuckled.
Figures moved among the gardens, some human-shaped, others decidedly not. The air around the estate shimmered with protective magic so potent I could almost taste it—metallic and ancient, like blood and storm clouds.
“Remember to be uninterested in skin maps or the Shadow Fang,” Damien murmured as our car reached the circular drive. “We’re here as collectors interested in Selene’s new acquisitions. That’s all.”
“Got it. Just two supernatural antiquities enthusiasts on a fancy date.” I adjusted my expression to one of polite interest as a valet opened my door.
Damien exited first then extended his hand to help me from the car. His touch lingered a moment longer than necessary, a small but calculated gesture for any watching eyes. I leaned into him as we climbed the grand staircase to the entrance, where two imposing guards checked invitations.
“The Cross party,” Damien presented our invitation, which was a glittery piece of parchment similar to Felix’s.
One guard took it and studied it while the other passed a crystal wand over us both. Magic danced across my skin, cataloging but not penetrating the protective enchantments woven into my gown.
“You are expected,” the first guard announced in a voice that echoed strangely. “Please proceed to the Grand Gallery. Masks are required beyond the antechamber.”
Masks? I glanced at Damien, who produced two elegant masks from an inside pocket of his jacket. Mine matched my dress—midnight blue with honey-gold accents that complemented my ring. His was the opposite—gold with midnight-blue detailing.
“I discovered this is standard practice at Selene’s gatherings,” he said as we entered a marble-floored antechamber where other guests also donned masks. “Part tradition, part practical magic. The masks are spelled to encourage honesty in negotiations while maintaining anonymity.”
“Supernatural plausible deniability.” I nodded, securing my mask. “Clever. I assume ours have different magic?”
The corner of his lips curled. “You catch on quickly.”
With the mask in place, the world took on a luminous quality—colors more vivid, sounds more distinct. Magic, subtle but effective.
Damien’s hand found the small of my back as we joined the flow of guests entering the main gallery. The gentle pressure shot tingles up and down my spine in continuous waves.
“Ready?”
I shook off the sensation of his touch and took a deep breath, reviewing all the etiquette lessons, security details, and cover story elements we’d practiced.
“Fuck no.” At Damien’s sidelong look, I added sweetly, “But I’ll give it the old college try, honeybuns.”