14. The Invitation
DAMIEN
Iwake before twilight, the rich, dark-wine scent of Eloise lingering in my nose. Fucking siren of a woman. Why did I allow myself to take her blood again? Already she occupies more than her share of space in my mind. I’m becoming obsessed. And now I can add the softness of her skin to things I can’t stop thinking about. Worse, the way she looked at me when she shattered in my arms, rattled me to the essence of my being. That bastard husband of hers tore off all her leaves and branches, left her a stump of her former self to die in the dirt, but she looks at me like I’m the sun and all she needs is more of me to grow again.
I am no fucking hero.
It’s been centuries since I’ve been truly needed. Used, yes. I’ve been used by the Gowdies regularly. But being used for the benefit of others is different from being needed. Eloise reaches for me as if who I am matters to who she is becoming, like I can honestly free the part of her she’s locked away these past years. And I fucking love it. My name on her lips steals my breath.
If she won’t let me kill Tony, I’ll find this Gold Weaver invoice for her and save her from the bastard the only way I can. And then... And then... Fuck. I’ll probably never see her again. I’ll be a dog on someone else”s leash. That thought makes me morph into a dense cloud of darkness and reform in the middle of my apartment. Perhaps a long, cold shower is in order.
An unexpected knock comes on my front door. Who could that be at this hour?
The knock comes again, more insistent. I cross the small apartment and open the door, ready to tear into whoever is on the other side, but when I see the crimson, onyx, and gold braided cords that signify a member of the queen”s personal security detail, I clench my teeth and offer a formal bow.
The lanky woman bows back, the heels of her heavy boots snapping together. “Please excuse the hour of my visit. I have a missive from the queen.” She thrusts a parchment envelope in my direction, the royal seal pressed into the red wax securing its flap.
“What”s this about?” I ask. I don’t like this. Not one bit.
The guard smiles and gestures toward the letter. “All of the details are there.”
“Care to give me the gist of it?”
She tips her head as if she finds my request baffling. “The queen is actively seeking a consort, and your company has been requested for an interview.”
“I think you have the wrong address. I”m not a member of the military.”
“You are Damian Hymir of 32 B Evermore Lane?”
“I am.”
“Congratulations. The invitation is for you.” She bows again and retreats down the long empty hall.
I close the door and tear into the envelope. Her royal highness Queen Valeska requests the pleasure of your company... Fuck!
I know why the queen wants to meet me. As one of only three shades in this realm, I have abilities that no ordinary vampire enjoys. Only, I have no interest in the job. In fact, I can’t think of any position I’d enjoy less. At least my Gowdie curse will come in useful this one time. She can’t choose me. Bound to the Gowdie witches as I am and have been for centuries, I”d be a security risk. My loyalty may lie with the crown, but I’d be helpless to deny a direct command from a Gowdie candle bearer. If one of the family ordered me to kill the queen, I’d be magically compelled to obey.
I dig in a drawer for a piece of paper and a pen and, in the formal language of my kind, respond politely to the invitation, revealing the Gowdie curse and detailing why I can’t serve in the role of consort. I’ll find a courier to deliver my regrets to the palace. I slide the letter into an envelope and seal it with black wax and the generic circular press that all commoners use.
The circle brings back dusty memories of my true family signet. Once, my seal held the power of a kingdom and consisted of a griffon, wings spread, behind crossed swords. If I was still that prince, I could claim Eloise Harcourt and make her mine forever. I drop the letter on the table and shake my head. What a stupid, reckless thought. If I was still that prince, I would have never met Eloise Harcourt, and I’d likely be married to a neighboring kingdom’s princess. Damn it, even if I freed myself from this curse and returned home, she shouldn’t come with me. She’s human. She belongs here.
Running a hand over my face, I cast aside the rogue thoughts and head for the shower. I have work to do.
An hour later,I manifest in the shadows outside the foyer of Denardi Enterprises, dressed in a suit that matches the moonlit sky outside the windows. Tamara, the receptionist I compelled before, is behind the front desk, filing papers while she hums to herself. The waiting room is blessedly empty.
I approach the desk silently and wait for her to notice.
“Oh, hello!” Her lashes flutter. “Can I help you?”
“Is Tony Denardi here?” I have no intention of actually meeting with the man; I only need to know if he’ll be a factor tonight.
“Sorry, no. Um, actually, we”re closed.” She glances at the glass doors and frowns. “I thought I locked up.”
I lean forward, casting a shadow in her direction. As she breathes it in, I gaze deeply into her eyes until I see the ring around her iris pulse with our mind link. “You did exactly what you were supposed to do,” I say, feeling the thought slide into her brain as if I’m feeding a shoelace through an eyelet. “Now, you will allow me behind the desk to search your computer.”
She smiles warmly, dipping a flirtatious shoulder in my direction. “Come on back. What are we looking for today?”
I pass through the door that leads behind the front desk and lean over her shoulder. “Any reference to Gold Weaver, Inc in your files.”
She snorts, her lashes fluttering again. “Oh, you won”t find any.”
“Why won”t I find any?” Inwardly, I cringe. I have a bad feeling I know the answer.
“Tony shredded everything with that name on it a few weeks ago and brought in some computer guy to wipe every trace of it from the system.”
I squeeze my eyes shut. I was afraid of that. Denardi never trusted Eloise to keep quiet about what she saw on that invoice. After he beat Eloise, he destroyed the evidence. I’m beginning to think this fucker is a master criminal. I refocus on Tamara, curious how much the woman knows. Her mind is as weak and pliant as a child”s. Might as well empty the contents. “Why would Tony destroy everything about Gold Weaver?”
She shrugs. “He told me it wasn”t a real company, just made up to use for training. You know, like teaching staff to do things before they do them in the real system. We wouldn”t want some newbie sending a test invoice to one of our customers by mistake.”
My stomach clenches. Damn it. That is a reasonable explanation. Is Eloise”s last hope simply a mistake? “What do you use for training now?”
Her face goes blank. “You know, I”m not sure.”
Hope surges inside me again. Training system, my ass. “You”re doing well, Tamara. Such a great help. I wonder if you could tell me one more thing. What was the address on those Gold Weaver invoices?”
Her pupils dilate, and she stares at the wall. “I don”t...” I push deeper into her psyche. Her conscious mind may not remember, but I might be able to nab it from her subconscious if she saw the address. “883 Junction Lane.”
For the first time, I give her a genuine grin. “Excellent. Now all I need is Tony”s login information, and you can head home.”
She giggles. “But I”m supposed to finish this filing before I go.” She glances at the stack of folders to her right. “Tony gets mad if I leave them out.”
I lower my voice to a whisper. “You can come in an hour early tomorrow and finish then. He”ll never know.”
“He”ll never know,” she repeats.
“Write down his login credentials.” I hand her a Post-it note, and she scribbles the ID and password combo. “Now go. You deserve a break.”
She pops out of her chair. “I deserve a break.” Grabbing her coat and purse from the closet, she strides out the double glass doors toward the elevator. I lock them behind her, then head to Tony”s office to do some searching of my own.