Page 1 of Bleeding for the Prince
CHAPTER ONE
Gwil’s client was late. He’d been suspicious that Madame Bovery might not be legit, but giving her name at reception had got him past the hostess of Bled, so he’d ignored his gut and carried on into the bar area as instructed. He didn’t usually get allowed into this type of place. Bled was a vampire establishment, but not an old-style gentlemen’s club, where centuries of business had been conducted in leather chairs. The vampires who came to Bled considered themselves the modern elite and wanted to be seen as such without the lowlifes spoiling the view. No one here would be discussing the next great financial investment, but different kinds of alliances were made in the dark corners. And Gwil had only been allowed to enter because a member had invited him. He was under no illusion that he was considered anything more than a guest of someone who mattered.
He’d been shown to a booth, not the best vantage point to keep watch for who else was here, but he suspected that was deliberate due to the status of the mysterious Madame Bovery. Privacy was a premium, and the people who could afford Bled’s membership fees could afford to pay to keep the hoi polloi away. Gwil played with his phone as he waited, wondering if he shouldhave insisted Hyax come with him. But his partner had a fancy gala to attend, and there was no room for Gwil when it was one of the agreed occasions Hyax needed to be seen with his husband. Hyax was going to be in a terrible mood when he got home, but Gwil was pretty sure he could find a way to cheer him up.
A waitress placed a glass of blood in front of him.
“Thanks, but I didn’t order that.”
“Compliments of the management, Mr Hilt.”
“Really?” In his experience, most management wanted him to leave, not get comfortable
She smirked. He guessed she wasn’t used to customers questioning their drinks, or maybe most of the clientele didn’t acknowledge her existence. “Yes, sir.”
He sniffed at the blood. It smelled good, and he tried a sip. It was fucking excellent, but he probably shouldn’t have expected anything else.
A chair opposite was dragged out and Robin Flint, the future Dark Viscount Whetford, sat opposite. “Gwil, Simon sends his regards.”
Simon was Robin’s husband, and in a recent case, Gwil had been part of the rescue mission to bring Simon home when he’d been kidnapped. The penny dropped. “I take it you’re Madame Bovery?”
Robin smiled. “Only on special occasions. I’m afraid my drag game isn’t up to much. I can’t walk in heels.”
“You could have just sent me an email if you wanted something. I’m fully embedded in the twenty-first century.” Gwil hadn’t been sure if he would hear from Robin again; he’d done his job, rescued the prince, and been sent on his way. Hyax had been thanked by King James, Simon’s father, but Gwil’s personal thank-you card must’ve been lost in the post, or so he’dthought. Senior-level vampires like Robin didn’t tend to bother with the likes of Gwil.
“I wanted to speak to you. I apologise for the charade, but given my Hollywood client list and line of work, I’ve learnt it’s best not to advertise my presence unless I want to be seen. People have the strangest notions that I will want to make them a star.”
Robin was something of a Svengali when it came to making movie stars. He’d been around since the golden age of Hollywood, and no one in the industry would risk crossing him if they valued their career.
“No fear, on my part. I’m not cut out to be a heartthrob.”
“Good to know.” Robin smirked. He was an attractive man and, until he got married, had been known for being a bit of a lothario. “I debated whether meeting you here was a sensible idea given there’s no reason why our social circles should collide, but I figured you deserved more than a templated email offering my thanks.”
“Right.” He’d realised he wouldn’t get public recognition for his role in saving Prince Simon, aka Dark Viscount of MacLove, but some small gesture would’ve been nice. “I guess it would be hard to explain you showering me with riches for a kidnapping that never happened.”
Robin laughed. “You’re the partner of Prince Hyax. You don’t need my money.”
Robin wasn’t wrong in that Hyax was a rich bastard, although it wasn’t Gwil’s money, and he might have liked the opportunity to have respectfully turned down a six-figure thank-you gesture.
“True, but it begs the question of why I’m here. Can’t say I’ve been let through the door before. I’m not what you’d call their preferred demographic.”
“That sort of nicely demonstrates my point. While my money isn’t useful to you, my influence is.” Robin reached into the pocket of what was no doubt an expensive tailor-made suit and removed his wallet. “There are parts of our society that are only reachable if you have the right connections. A bit like this place. Even with Solivatus as your sire, some doors will remain closed unless someone opens them for you.”
Robin retrieved a black plastic card from his wallet and slid it across the table to Gwil. He picked it up, the letterJembossed on its front and written underneath the wordsMember: G Hilt.
Gwil’s jaw dropped, and he snapped it shut. “Is that what I think it is?”
“Yes. You’re now a full member of the Jyndarin Society.”
The Jyndarin Society was one of the most select groups in the paranormal world. He’d never come close to being able to apply, and didn’t think he ever would, even with Hyax being his boyfriend. This couldn’t be right. “But, I don’t qualify. I’ve not the money, the supernatural capability or the political clout.”
“The money is not an issue. I’ve paid your fees and will continue to do so for as long as you wish to remain a member. As for supernatural abilities, I’d say what you and Hyax can do together with his magic working through you more than meets the criteria. And no one will say no when an individual is personally endorsed by two of the Heads of House. Sebastian and Liam are also very grateful for your assistance.”
Sebastian Hewel and Liam Cartwright were two scary motherfuckers, and Gwil was glad to have their endorsement, as he wouldn’t want them to know of his existence for the wrong reasons. “Please don’t be taking the piss.”
“Trust me, this is a mere token of how grateful I am to have Simon home.”
“I didn’t expect your gratitude to reach such a level.”
