Chapter 24
Iris
“But why does it matter if I wear heels, if the dress covers my feet?”
It was a reasonable question.
But none of the men currently looking at her would hear of her wearing flats.
“It’s the dress code, darling,” Arden told her. He moved forward, carefully placing the subtle coral crown on her head.
She’d tried to insist that a crown would be too much. But both Arden and Henry believed that it was never ‘too much’ when you were literally royalty.
Finn had held up his hands, claiming he didn’t want to be a part of that argument.
“Perfect,” Arden declared as he stepped back. “You look like a princess.”
“I am a princess.”
“Exactly. But now, people will believe it,” he said, eyes sparkling.
“Rude.”
“But true.”
“Fine. That’s fair. Any more tips for me?”
“Just be your charming self. I wish I could be there to see it. Alas, I would need an extra comma in my net worth to be invited.”
“You’re going to Selene’s, right?”
“Yep. Gotta ask Gerty what she’s angry about now.”
“You’ll keep me posted? I need something to look forward to.”
“Oh, stop. You’re going to have fun. Drinking, dan-cing, good wine, itty-bitty servings of food. Finn, you know where the closest hot pretzel cart is to the venue, right?”
“Enough chit-chat. You’re already ten minutes late, and you must drive across town,” Henry said, waving toward the door.
“Someone needs to get laid,” Arden said, making Iris snort.
“I heard that.”
“I meant you to.” The demon turned to the campaign manager, straightening his already straight tie. “You’re wound so tight. You need to pop,” he said, patting Henry’s chest.
“The saying is that you’re going to pop,” Henry, a little pink, clarified.
“I believe it means the same thing,” Arden said, leaning in close. Then, quickly shifting from sinfully flirtatious to laid-back and easy, he clapped. “Okay. Go be a princess at the ball. I will go talk to a ghost who smells like mothballs and stale cigarettes.”
With one last smile, he was gone.
Henry, recovered, ushered them into the elevator, then the waiting town car.
“You’re going to do great,” Finn assured her, his hand reaching for hers, giving it a squeeze. “We will be together all night, so if you’re confused by anything, just give my hand a squeeze.”
She didn’t imagine there would be much to be confused by.
Until, of course, they moved into the sprawling museum.
Everything was dipped in ambiance: candles, chandeliers, fairy lights.
It made the space almost cinematic as they moved through the displays of ancient artifacts, following a small crowd toward a wider, open space dominated by a giant Tyrannosaurus rex skeleton.
Music thrummed, low and breezy, from the band near the front of the room. Standing before them, a fae in a brilliant red sari crooned over the music.
“This is the cocktail hour,” Finn said, his lips near her ear as he snagged two champagne flutes off a passing tray.
He passed one glass to her. “We will walk around, look at the displays, speak to others, possibly bid on items at the silent auction.” He waved over toward a long row of tables draped in champagne-colored tablecloths with vari-ous items or signs and notepads set in front of them.
“And after that?”
“Everyone will move into the dining hall. We will find our table, eat, and talk with our tablemates. There will be an emcee, guest speakers. And—”
“Mr. Westrock,” a voice called.
“Here we go,” Finn said. He sipped his champagne, then switched on his PR smile before turning to greet the tall man with ghost-pale skin.
Iris felt a familiar little shiver, could sense the lethal kind of charm leaching from the man.
A vampire.
She was sure of it.
Any hope that the conversation might be interesting or engaging, though, quickly fell away as the men started to talk about policy.
She tried to keep track, really, she did. But it wasn’t long before her mind was wandering and her gaze was sweeping the room, taking in the atmosphere and the various humans and paranormals gathered.
Sensing her slipping away, Finn’s arm slid around her lower back, curling her closer, anchoring her, silently reminding her that she had to play her part.
One interaction turned to five, then fifteen.
Her champagne flute was empty, and she felt a pleasant thrumming inside her, a lightness she knew came from the alcohol, since she was still having trouble staying present and engaging with the strangers whom Finn seemed to know personally.
“Can we look at the auction items?” Iris asked when a group of humans moved away.
“Sure, we—”
“Finn!” a booming voice called.
Turning, Iris saw nothing but torso until she angled her head all the way up to catch sight of a man with huge, angled horns and a thick gold bull ring in his nose.
He had to be a minotaur.
“Patton,” Finn said with a smile, offering his hand.
“Iris,” Patton greeted her, ducking his head. “Do you mind if I steal your fiancé for a moment?”
“Of course,” she said with her fake smile. Unease at walking around without an escort spread through her, but she tried to tamp it down.
“I’ll meet you over by the tables in a minute,” Finn said, pressing a quick kiss to her temple before moving away.
The little belly flip-flop seemed to chase away her discomfort as she dropped her empty glass on a tray, then wandered over toward the auction, being careful to mind her steps without Finn there to balance her if she tripped in her heels.
She moved down the line, looking at offerings of private celebrity chefs, luxury cruises, vacations at the beach, and tickets to sold-out concerts and shows.
Mixed in with those average listings, though, were other—more exciting—ones: a future reading from a high priestess, a ‘getting in touch with your inner beast’ getaway with a wolf alpha, an aging cask of fae wine, artisanal chocolate infused with true lust magic, and even a haunted mirror (guaranteed friendly).
Caught up in the excitement of it all, Iris leaned down to sign her name for the mirror, loving the idea of a device that might whisper advice and compliments—and, occasionally, cryptic warnings.
And just for fun, she quickly bid on the lusty chocolates.
When she’d checked over all the offerings twice and Finn still hadn’t joined her, she’d decided to go and find him. But when she’d scanned the crowd, he was nowhere to be seen.
She spotted Patton and his minotaur friends, but Finn was no longer with them.
She moved around the room, trying not to look like she was searching for someone, but getting a little more uneasy with each passing moment.
Without Finn’s hand steadying her, every click of her heels echoed loudly. She couldn’t seem to walk or breathe quite right without him at her side.
Her stomach was feeling all sloshy by the time she moved out of the dinosaur room.
The museum was labyrinthine, and everywhere she went, she saw people.
But not Finn.
She was about to give up and try to find her way back to the main gathering area, when she heard the rumble of his laughter.
A shiver worked its way up her spine at the sound, and her lips curved up as she made her way around a corner to find him.
In a little alcove.
With that gargoyle woman.
Her hand was on his chest.
Her body arched too close.
Her laughter just a little too husky.
Iris’s stomach bottomed out.
How long had she been standing there, laughing like that? Had he followed her? Or had she led him?
She stood there stunned for a second. But when Finn’s gaze found hers, her feet unstuck from the ground.
She turned and rushed away, gathering up her skirt so it didn’t slow her down.
She was pretty sure she made her way into a restricted area within a few moments, judging by the lack of mood lighting and people gathered around.
She didn’t care.
She just needed to get somewhere private before the stupid tears stinging her eyes overflowed.
Just when she was losing hope, she saw a bathroom sign hanging up ahead.
She beelined for it, pushing the door open. Her heels clicked on the pristine tile floor as she made her way over to the sink, ready to try to put some cool water on her face—to hell with her makeup.
Before the first tear could spill over, though, the door flew open.
And there was Finn.
“Iris, what—”
He trailed off when he caught sight of her face.
Reaching back, he locked the door.
“Why bother following me?” she asked, blinking back the tears. She was more comfortable with the sizzle of anger burning in her stomach. “Go back and let Marsha keep undressing you with her eyes.”
“Iris …”
“Don’t act like I’m being silly. You went with her to some quiet alcove where no one would see you.”
“I followed her because she said she was looking for another member of the council. Iris, come on. You don’t think—”
“I do. You were all laughing and smiling and letting her put her hands—”
Something moved across Finn’s face then. She wasn’t sure what to call it, but it made her belly go wobbly. This time, in a good way.
Before she could analyze it, he was moving toward her. He made it there in two strides, grabbing her and turning her away from him, both of them watching themselves in the mirror.
“What are you doing?” She was breathless and throbbing at the fierce, feral look in his eyes.
“Showing you that there is only one woman in this building I’m interested in putting my hands on.”
“Finn …”
She barely had time to even think of what to say after that; Finn was lowering himself to his knees and sliding under her long skirt.
Desire pinged across every nerve ending as he yanked her panties to the side.
Her breath caught, then ended on a strangled moan as his mouth closed around her throbbing clit, sucking on it until her legs were shaking hard enough to make her grab the edge of the counter.
Her hips rocked restlessly, riding his mouth as his tongue moved across her.
It wasn’t long before she was breathless, spiraling into an orgasm that had a long, low moan escaping her, the sound echoing back to her in the small, tiled room.