Page 17 of Ancient Magic

About to remind the male that violence was exactly the response Kane was hoping to provoke, Micha forgot how to speak as Peri was joined by a woman with golden curls and the face of an angel.

Micha thought a strangled sound was wrenched from his lips, but he couldn’t be sure. He was too busy trying to understand what had just happened. He’d seen beautiful women. Some of the most beautiful women in the world. And he’d been in lust countless times over the past fifteen hundred years. But he’d never felt like he’d just been smashed headfirst into destiny.

This wasn’t attraction or passion or enchantment. No, wait. That was a lie. Attraction and passion and enchantment bubbled through his veins like the finest champagne, but it was more. So much more. In the span of one moment to the next, his life had changed beyond recognition.

“Micha?”

Still disoriented, Micha battled to clear his stunned thoughts, reminding himself of the need to act normal. Even demons freaked out when a vampire neglected to blink and breathe as if they were normal.

“Who’s that?” Micha was surprised his voice sounded the same as usual. Low and steady with a hint of a Creole accent.

“Peri?” Valen asked in confusion.

“No.” It was an effort not to snap as Micha vibrated with a worrying need to discover everything possible about the stranger. “The woman next to her.”

“Oh. Skye Claremont.”

“The seer,” Micha murmured, feeling a tiny stab of surprise as he recognized the name. “She’s one of the mages from the Witch’s Brew.”

“You’ve done your research,” Valen murmured.

Of course he had. Once he’d discovered that Peri had unleashed wild magic during her recent battle, he’d searched through his considerable library to read through the manuscripts and texts devoted to the ancient power, as well as doing a thorough background investigation of Peri and her closest friends.

“I’m a recluse. What else would I do with my time?” he asked, allowing his gaze to glide over the gauzy white gown that swirled around the woman like an enchanted mist and the ballet slippers encrusted with pearls.

She looked nothing like the other women in their designer dresses that clung to their curves and the sky-high heels. She was a seraph floating in the clouds.

“Let me think,” Valen said in mocking tones. “Perhaps run a multimillion-dollar empire that includes several casinos, hotels, and oil refineries? Collect ancient artifacts? Write essays on the evolution of demons and their decline after the retreat of the dragons?”

Micha held up a silencing hand as Valen listed off his latest business and scholarly activities.

“I’m obviously not the only one to do my research.”

“Anything to protect Peri.” Valen squared his shoulders, as if preparing to face an unpleasant task. “I suppose I should mingle with my guests. Feel free to return to your rooms when you’re ready. The lower floors are off-limits to everyone but members of the Cabal. You won’t be disturbed.” His lips twisted into a wry smile as he stepped past Micha. “Lucky bastard.”

Micha briefly considered the offer to escape. Five minutes ago he wouldn’t have hesitated. He was all peopled out. But now that he’d seen Skye Claremont, there was nothing on this earth that could drag him away.

Considering the best way to approach her, Micha frowned as the woman consuming his thoughts abruptly turned away from Peri and weaved her way across the room. Was she leaving?

The sight spurred him into motion. He wasn’t one of those vampires who assumed every woman was his prey, but the fear she might disappear before he had a chance to speak with her was unacceptable. He had to hear her voice, catch the scent of her skin, feel the warmth of her body brush over him.

Skimming along the edge of the crowd, Micha’s tension eased as the woman entered a shallow alcove and disappeared. She wasn’t leaving the penthouse. She was escaping the noise of the party.

Ah. A smile of anticipation curved Micha’s lips. Obviously, they had a lot in common.

Pausing as he entered the alcove, Micha leaned forward to peer into the attached room. It was small compared to the main salon, but there was a warmth and comfort that was far more inviting. Best of all, Skye Claremont was alone.

With a silence only a vampire could achieve, Micha stepped inside and closed the door behind him. Then, crossing the thick carpeting, he circled around the worn leather couch and low coffee table to approach Skye from the side.

He could tell the second she sensed she was no longer alone. Her spine stiffened and her hands curled into tiny fists. But she didn’t turn. Instead, she stepped closer to the framed painting hung on the paneled wall.

Micha didn’t blame her fascination. The masterpiece was a museum-grade artwork with exquisite brushstrokes and mesmerizing talent for capturing light and shadow. It was an expensive acquisition, but since it’d been tucked in this private room, he assumed that Valen treasured the beauty of the painting, not the price tag. Otherwise it would be hanging in the main salon where people could ooh and aah over it.

Still, he didn’t think Skye was admiring the brushstrokes. She was hoping that by ignoring his presence, he would politely go away. Micha smiled. She didn’t know him at all. At least not yet.

Moving to stand at her side, Micha’s smile abruptly vanished as the scent of laurel leaves wafted through the air, the tendrils wrapping him in a spell of bewitchment.

Laurels. The scent of oracles.

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