Page 24 of Vampire Runner

Giuliani takes Cassandra’s offered hand and brings it to his mouth, kissing her knuckles. “Enchantée, Elana—I can call you Elana, right?”

Cassandra titters, a sound that grates my nerves, but sparks a look of glee in Giuliani. “Of course. Wren has told me so much about you. I’ve been dying to meet you.”

Literally. I barely suppress rolling my eyes. Clearing my throat, I put my hand out in clear expectation. I channel the suave attitude of Malachi and smile at the man. Hopefully, my mate’s magic is strong enough to disguise my desire to rip the man’s hand off for touching her.

“Timothy,” I use the false name we’ve adopted. Giuliani reluctantly lets go of Cassandra’s hand to shake mine. He gives me an assessing look; it’s nowhere near as suggestive. I know what he sees. Black slicked-back hair with tanned skin, and a soft face and jaw suggesting I spend more time at my desk than the gym. Magic can do nothing about height, which means I’m still a few inches taller than Giuliani, to my petty satisfaction. Where he’s wearing a classic black tuxedo, Tara—the Nightshades’ new tailor after Mr. Carter retired, put me in a navy-blue velvet suit jacket with black lapels along with a crisp white shirt, navy blue bow tie, and black slacks.

“Easy,” Kasar says, humor in his voice. “We need him alive.”

“Do we though?” Malachi replies. “We really just need access to the computers here for the security codes at the estate.”

Giuliani shakes my hand, and I force myself to ignore my brothers’ running commentary in my ear. Giuliani grips my hand hard, satisfied to think he’s won this round of a pissing contest. He doesn’t say anything, just offers me a polite smile. I’m far from offended at the obvious dismissal.

Kasar is right, though. Giuliani’s offices may be on the top floor here at the Verdant Pavilion, but getting into Aeternaphiel’s estate will be much less complicated if Cassandra and I can walk in through the front door.

“I insist you let my wife tell you about our recent ventures,” I say, laying on the charm while purposefully directing his attention back to Cassandra. I place my hand on her lower back, my fingers pressing hard in the only display of possession I allow myself. Lan catches my eye from the other side of Wren. To my surprise, there’s a look of understanding. Considering what I know of Lan and how Wren must circulate in these shark-infested waters, I should be more surprised he hasn’t turned the streets of Topside into rivers of blood.

The event coordinator announces that dinner is ready and, reluctantly, I release Cassandra when Giuliani offers his arm to escort her to our table. Wren, with her connections as the CEO of Benoit Tech, was able to secure the four of us seating at the round table with Giuliani. A few people send us disgruntled looks, no doubt the ones who were bumped from the highly sought-after table.

Giuliani dominates the conversation while a lavish six-course meal is served. He sits on Cassandra’s right, while I sit on her left beside Lan. Lan leans back in the seat, always in an arrogant repose. Even wearing the blue contacts he uses to hide his vampire nature in Wren’s circles, there’s something that unsettles the mortals around us. No doubt it delights him. When I catch the faint scent of arousal, I cough to hide a laugh before I shoot him a look. His expression gives nothing away, but Wren is incredibly focused on the meal in front of her.

I’m too tense to really notice the food, eating mechanically. It’s a new brand of torture to listen to Cassandra flirt with Giuliani and do nothing about it. My comfort is knowing this tittering socialite is not the real Cassandra. She knows how to speak with men like Giuliani because of her family’s coven. It doesn’t matter if she hasn’t been active in the world since the Victorian era; the maneuvers of high society never change.

Ambrose catches my eye towards the end of the dinner service while dessert is being brought out. Like he’d predicted, his and Eloise’s appearance had caused a ripple throughout the guests. I’d overheard more than a few people expressing concern about their safety, while there were even more whispers about what it would be like to be fed from by a vampire. Nerves settled when Michael Garner introduced him as a personal business acquaintance. How would people react if they knew Garner is under a compulsion to obey the powerful vampire? He gives an idle nod, one that could easily be passed as a response to the conversation at his table. I clear my throat and gratefully set my napkin on the table.

“If you’ll excuse me,” I say, and Cassandra looks up, as if annoyed.

“You’ll be back for dancing, right?” Her tone suggests a long-running irritation and I play into it as we’d discussed.

“Yeah, yeah,” I grumble, matching her irritation. Then, as if the idea comes to me, I look over her head to Giuliani. “My wife loves to dance and I can’t think of anything else I like less. Maybe you can take one—or two for me? As a favor?”

Giuliani guffaws loudly enough to draw attention, his rotund belly bouncing before he stands and claps me on the shoulder. “If you won’t dance with this beautiful woman, I will be glad to.”

I pat him on the shoulder, keeping it light by sheer force of will. Otherwise, I’d send him crashing into the table like a buffoon. I lean closer to whisper, “Distract her, yeah? There’s a hot piece of ass I spied at the bar earlier that I need to introduce myself to.”

When I pull back, Giuliani’s eyes gleam with satisfaction. The seed that he’s free to pursuit Cassandra has been planted. Now it’s up to my mate to secure the invitation to tomorrow’s event while I go let Kasar and Malachi in through the back.

Excusing myself again, each step away from Cassandra is pure agony. Every instinct is telling me to turn around, to protect my mate from the male I’ve left her with. The only thing that makes it possible for me to leave is the affection and reassurance Cassandra sends to me through our bond. I breathe easier; I’d gone so long without our connection open that I’d forgotten how much I’d needed it.

I head towards the bathroom, nodding politely at the security guards posted in discreet locations. Each one is human; Lan’s research said as much but with the unexpected attendance of Ambrose, there was always a chance the company would bring in some sort of supernatural guard.

I slap my hand against the bathroom door, shoving it open. I act as if I’m about to enter, timing my move until any guard or camera surveillance will be sure I did. Then I’m running, using my vampiric speed to travel from the bathroom door to the back hall without notice. Seconds later, I’m pushing the back service door’s bar, opening it knowing Malachi or Kasar would have disabled the alarm.

Two Nightshade vampires slip in, dressed in their own suits in the event a guest sees them. Malachi turns when the door clicks shut, pulling out a phone with a short cord attached. He puts it next to the security box on the wall, tapping at the screen.

“Giuliani?” Kasar’s question has me turning to him.

“Enthralled by Cassandra,” I bite out.

“Sensitive, are we?” Malachi asks, still doing something to the alarm system.

“Shut it,” Kasar orders, and I snap my mouth closed on the retort threatening. Kasar’s known as the Lion, a moniker he earned long before the Barrows grew under Ambrose’s hand. He outranks both of us and isn’t afraid to remind us. His golden gaze burrows into mine, questioning me. “Can you keep it together to finish the job?”

I don’t hesitate. “Yes.”

He gives a terse nod, then jerks his head down the hall. “Go on,” he says. “We’re good here.”

I don’t question him. When working with a team, you have to trust that they’ll do their part just like they’re trusting you to do yours. The rest of my night, the goal is to make sure I don’t rip Giuliani’s head off and ruin the whole plan.

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