Page 23 of Wolf Queen Ruin
Damien chuckled.
Figures moved among the gardens, some human-shaped, others decidedly not.The air around the estate shimmered with protective magic so potent I could almost taste it—metallic and ancient, like blood and storm clouds.
“Remember to be uninterested in skin maps or the Shadow Fang,” Damien murmured as our car reached the circular drive.“We’re here as collectors interested in Selene’s new acquisitions.That’s all.”
“Got it.Just two supernatural antiquities enthusiasts on a fancy date.”I adjusted my expression to one of polite interest as a valet opened my door.
Damien exited first then extended his hand to help me from the car.His touch lingered a moment longer than necessary, a small but calculated gesture for any watching eyes.I leaned into him as we climbed the grand staircase to the entrance, where two imposing guards checked invitations.
“The Cross party,” Damien presented our invitation, which was a glittery piece of parchment similar to Felix’s.
One guard took it and studied it while the other passed a crystal wand over us both.Magic danced across my skin, cataloging but not penetrating the protective enchantments woven into my gown.
“You are expected,” the first guard announced in a voice that echoed strangely.“Please proceed to the Grand Gallery.Masks are required beyond the antechamber.”
Masks?I glanced at Damien, who produced two elegant masks from an inside pocket of his jacket.Mine matched my dress—midnight blue with honey-gold accents that complemented my ring.His was the opposite—gold with midnight-blue detailing.
“I discovered this is standard practice at Selene’s gatherings,” he said as we entered a marble-floored antechamber where other guests also donned masks.“Part tradition, part practical magic.The masks are spelled to encourage honesty in negotiations while maintaining anonymity.”
“Supernatural plausible deniability.”I nodded, securing my mask.“Clever.I assume ours have different magic?”
The corner of his lips curled.“You catch on quickly.”
With the mask in place, the world took on a luminous quality—colors more vivid, sounds more distinct.Magic, subtle but effective.
Damien’s hand found the small of my back as we joined the flow of guests entering the main gallery.The gentle pressure shot tingles up and down my spine in continuous waves.
“Ready?”
I shook off the sensation of his touch and took a deep breath, reviewing all the etiquette lessons, security details, and cover story elements we’d practiced.
“Fuck no.”At Damien’s sidelong look, I added sweetly, “But I’ll give it the old college try, honeybuns.”
Chapter seven
Luna
Westeppedthroughanarchway that rippled like water as we passed, emerging into a space that defied conventional architecture.The ballroom stretched before us, impossibly vast for the building that contained it.Vaulted ceilings soared overhead, supported by columns that looked like solidified moonlight.That was the only way I could describe it.
And the guests… My throat tightened at the gathering before us.
Every faction of supernatural society seemed represented, many only partially concealing their true natures despite their elegant attire and masks.A group of fae nobles glimmered by a fountain that flowed upward, their fingers elongated and their eyes shining with unnatural colors.Vampire houses clustered near the chamber’s darker corners, beauty and danger radiating from their perfect stillness.A couple of witches moved through the crowd in sync with each other, their formal wear shimmering with embedded spells.
And yes, wolf shifters too, standing in small packs.I breathed a small sigh of relief when I didn’t recognize any of them.
“Impressive, isn’t it?”Damien murmured.“Selene’s gatherings are one of the few places where all major factions meet under a truce.”
“It’s something,” I said.
Part of me—the part that had grown up as Alpha Rookwood’s daughter—recognized this world of supernatural politics and power.But another part—the tomb raider who’d scraped by on the fringes for three and a half years—felt like an imposter in fancy clothing.
I’d gone to about 1.3 of my dad’s important events.The rest I’d made up some excuse to explore caves with Jade or run our wolves through the woods.Literally anything other than this.
“Champagne, sir?Madam?”A server materialized beside us, offering a tray of flutes filled with pale golden liquid.
Damien selected two glasses and handed one to me, our fingers brushing in a gesture that appeared casual but allowed him to subtly tap the glass’s base—the signal we’d practiced to indicate the drink was safe.
He could tell by his vampiric sense of smell.If I still had my wolf shifter powers, I probably could tell as well.
