Page 4 of Pining for the Prince
Ian grinned and waved his phone at Hyax. “Got it. I’ll ping you over the number.”
Hyax’s phone vibrated and he checked it, then he forwarded the number straight to the security officer in charge of this case. “You are brilliant. I tell you what, I’ll pop to the bathroom. You finish your champagne and then we can leave to have ourselves a bit of private ball practise.”
Ian puffed out his cheeks and stared into the middle distance. The second wave of effects was starting to hit. Ian would be out of it for a few minutes and then blissfully unaware he’d been drinking with a pretty blond. Hyax tapped his finger to Ian’s phone as he stood, a shot of fae magic would delete all records of his existence from Ian’s world.
He headed towards the rear of the club, locating the fire exit and disabling the alarm with another flick of his fingers. Once outside in the alleyway, he gave a quick check to see if he was alone, then he opened a portal and arrived at Cikla’s.
She peered at him over the glossy magazine she was reading. “I wasn’t sure if you’d be coming back here.”
“Can I stay over? I don’t want to return to the palace this early, my mother will ask why this one wasn’t to my taste, and I want her nowhere near my love life.”
“Of course. Drink?”
“Yes, please. I need something to take away the taste of the champagne he favoured. Some humans have very dull tastes.”
She clicked her fingers and two glasses appeared. “Finest ambrosia, from my family’s collection.”
He accepted the glass, Cikla’s family were a high-ranking bunch from the hinterlands, the best place in the realm for the drink. “Perfect. Thank you.”
“I have to ask, why didn’t you bang the footballer? Was he that annoying?”
He sighed. “I wasn’t in the mood. He had the wit of a dull toad, and while I’m sure his arse would have been amazing he didn’t do it for me.”
“Right.” She sniffed.
“What’s that meant to mean?”
She patted his arm. “Have you considered talking to Gwil?”
“It’s complicated. A member of the undead with a subpar pedigree and a fae prince is hardly Hans Christian Anderson, is it?”
“I guess not, but you know there’s precedent with one of the other tribes.”
Fae politics was complicated, and the fact the Calanti tribe had links to the vampires meant it was all the more complicated. It wasn’t openly discussed but he’d done some research, and found King James was a member of the House of Cartwright, a Dark Earl no less, but the Calanti tribe had been annexed a millennia ago and relations remained… difficult. He swirled the golden liquid in his glass. “Gwil is also one of my best friends, and business partner. I don’t want to risk that.”
She rolled her eyes. “You’d be all right with him dating someone else then?”
“Why would he?” Did Cikla know something he didn’t?
“Why wouldn’t he? If you’re not gonna ask him out, then someone else will—eventually. How are you going to deal with that?”
Hyax’s glass shattered.
Cikla scowled. “Badly then.”
He waved a hand to banish the glass and spilt drink. Cikla didn’t understand. Gwil wound him up in all the right and wrong ways. He was the first person he thought of when he woke up, and last when he went to sleep, and although there were some things he couldn’t tell him, Gwil had always been there for himand he couldn’t risk losing him if he made a clumsy, unwanted pass.
CHAPTER THREE
The nature of Gwil’s client base meant most of them didn’t operate to a standard timeline, immortal beings tended to lose days, years even, so he was surprised when he received the details from Tobias the following evening. It helped that he kept a goblin, who were probably the most officious arseholes in any universe, as a secretary.
He examined the photo of the watch and, while he was sure it was a fabulous example of the period, he couldn’t understand why Tobias was so insistent on its return. There had to be some sort of grudge or slighted pride behind this, as he’d even gone so far as to provide the name of an elfish silversmith who could create a replica, which seemed a little over-the-top. Perhaps he could get Hyax to deal with them. Gwil still had the scars from an encounter with a bad-tempered elf he was in no hurry to repeat. Better still, he could replace it with one of his own pocket watches from before he’d been turned or find something in one of the many pawnbrokers in the city. Anything was better than dealing with an elf in a shit mood armed with jewellers’ tools and an eye for precision.
Gwil scanned the paperwork and found the commitment to pay their rates at time and half, with generous expenses, and thepromise of deeds to a townhouse in Spitalfields. He re-read the address—twice. While the human world would have valued his current place at a similar value, the network of the supernatural infrastructure running beneath the area would be so much better and was reason enough to do the gig. All being well, Hyax would be in a more positive disposition if he’d got laid last night.
December in London meant his working day was longer, since he could make use of the reduced hours of sunlight. And now would be a good time to pop out and get Hyax some of the fancy lavender bonbons he liked. Gwil thought they tasted like soap but he didn’t have to eat them.
Some of his fellow vampires had an aversion to being around the living unless they were food shopping, but he liked mingling with them knowing they hadn’t a clue the bloke sitting next to them had more interest in their blood type than they did. He hadn’t the desire to be mortal again, but he liked to see people bustling around, going about their dull business as if it were the most important thing in the world. He also liked the Tube, especially at rush hour when he could be pressed up against many bodies and it be socially acceptable which, when he was alive would have caused apoplexy.
