Page 23 of Vampire Runner

“Food, tea, and coffee will be out as soon as you are all settled,” Josephine says over her shoulder as she leads the way. Ashe holds me back, pressing his nose against my temple and breathing in deeply. My eyes flutter shut, my heart becoming a warm spring, soothing my irritation away. I lean into him, the slightest pressure, and let him ground me to the earth and my body. I release a shuddering breath and straighten, smoothing down my linen blouse and skirts out of habit.

“Thank you,” I murmur, turning just enough to press a kiss to his lips. I meant it to be brief, but Ashe lingers. He sups at my lips, never deepening them, never pulling me tighter. It’s a gentle worship, an adoration, and it turns me to a puddle quicker than snow falling on a fire.

“Are we fucking or are we planning to kill an angel?”

Lan’s shout ruins the moment. Well, not entirely, as we pull apart. The bond between us is still open, something I thought would take me more time than we had to earn back.

“Ready?” Ashe asks, lacing his fingers through mine.

“Together,” I reply, squeezing his hand.

He grins, the one that captured my heart the first day I met him. I beam back. “Then let’s go figure out how to kill this angel.”

Chapter Eight

ASHE

Ambrose stands at the end of the table, both palms flat on either side of the digital blueprint currently being projected from Lan’s computer. Almost all of the chairs have been pushed to the walls or out of the way. Only Deidre and Eloise sit at the table, both of them focused on their individual laptops.

Even Wren has joined us, though she paces the room as she cradles her and Lan’s daughter, Emily. The sight of the young child makes my stomach clench with envy, something I never thought I’d feel in relation to Landon. Cassandra has—had?—always wanted children, and until her, I’d never believed it possible for me to be a father. When I lost her to Eris, it was as if I lost my future too. I look across the table at my mate, who watches Wren with a fond expression.

I couldn’t fight for our future then; I sure as hell will fight for it now. I won’t lose her again, not when she’s in my arms.

“Rhys, you’re good to go to replace the band at the gala,” Eloise says with a fist pump and looks up to the estranged Nightshade vampire. He saunters over to her, looking over her shoulder while resting his hand on the back of her chair. He can’t help that he naturally oozes sensual confidence; no doubt the time traveling as a lauded rock star has only made it worse. If it weren’t for the utterly serious expression on the vampire’s face, Ambrose would be doing more than gritting his teeth.

While Eloise and Rhys work out signing and faxing the contract, I drag my attention back to Ambrose, Kasar, Lan, Wren, and Cassandra. Malachi left earlier, ensuring that the event’s contracted musicians found themselves suddenly unable to perform.

“It’ll be better if I’m there,” Wren repeats while bouncing Emily gently and letting the infant chew on her knuckle. “I know you don’t like it, but it’s not like I’ll be doing anything more than I would at a normal charity dinner. Fostering HopeTech has already purchased two tickets as a courtesy and it won’t be an issue to get two more even the day before.”

Lan gives his mate a look that’s frozen men and monsters. Wren raises a brow, as if challenging him to deny the truth of her words.

“Agreed,” Ambrose says, effectively overriding Lan, no matter how much his instinct to protect his mate rears up. He taps the table where a back entrance is of the venue. “Eloise and I will also be in attendance. With our presence, there will be enough attention on the room that no one will notice when Kasar and Malachi slip in.”

Cassandra leans over the table, inspecting the ballroom layout where we’ll be. “And you’re sure there won’t be any wards that stop illusions? Otherwise Giuliani will recognize us.”

Kasar snorts but shakes his head. “Too many of these people use magic for their appearance. Not that they’d ever admit it. Small magics like this are fine. I won’t be surprised if this guy isn’t using his own.”

“Okay,” Ambrose interrupts, his expression as serious as when he’d planned battles. In a sense, this is one. “This Benevolent or Aeternaphiel, whatever he goes by, won’t be there tonight in spite of sponsoring the event. Which means Giuliani, who owns the venue and is his personal rep, is the key to the invite for the private event the following day. We need him to get in...”

“We’re in place.” Kasar’s gravelly voice is clear in my ear as Cassandra and I follow Wren and Lan towards Alfonso. Alfonso Giuliani is surrounded by a bevy of beauties, all of them hanging on to his every word as if they can’t bear to be more than a foot away. I grip Cassandra’s hand tightly, reminding myself that this is our cover, and Giuliani is our target. We need him to get access to Aeternaphiel’s estate with a private luncheon tomorrow. Which means Cassandra needs to capture Giuliani’s attention enough to provide the invitation.

Wren and Lan are our introduction, the two of them wearing contact lenses to disguise the distinct golden eyes of vampires. As for Cassandra and me, we both are disguised with a minor illusion spell to conceal our identity entirely.

Wren, experienced at navigating the upper echelons of society, seamlessly inserts our small group before Giuliani.

“Ms. Foster!” The man himself greets, bringing her close, and she allows him to kiss her cheek. Lan, to my surprise, appears as utterly unbothered. “I was so sorry to hear about your father.”

“Thank you,” Wren says graciously. It’s not public knowledge that Oberon Benoit was slaughtered by Lan after the man attempted to ritualistically sacrifice her in a bid for immortality. She gestures towards Cassandra and me. “I wanted to introduce you to my friends, Elana and Timothy Farr. I believe you may find their projects inspiring and I convinced them to come simply so Elana could meet you.”

Alfonso gives Cassandra a lascivious once-over that has my blood boiling. A part of me can’t blame him though.

Cassandra wears a floor-length gown that’s a dark, deep teal. The dress is held up by two delicate straps, leaving her shoulders and chest bare, including the faint marks I left on her earlier. A primal satisfaction fills me with my obvious claim, even if our identities are disguised by magic.

The skirt of the dress is loose and flowing, the silk fabric rippling around her legs as she moves. The bodice, however, is fitted around her waist and torso, the silk fabric shimmering against her skin. Her breasts are pushed together, creating a slight valley of cleavage that Giuliani can’t keep his eyes off.

Her illusioned white-blonde hair is styled in a loose bun, with soft tendrils framing her face. The makeup she’s chosen makes her look like a fresh-faced goddess, with dark, smoky eyes, a subtle, natural lipstick that’s supposed to make her lips look flushed. Her natural mist blue eyes have been darkened to hazel, and her magic has softened her features. She’s soft and rounded, like a fertility goddess ready to be worshipped.

Her different face unsettles me, but my body knows it’s Cassandra. A selfish, savage part of me is glad Giuliani doesn’t get to see the real woman.

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