Page 24 of Wolf Queen Ruin
“Thank you,” I told the server, who nodded and glided away with inhuman grace.
“We should circulate,” Damien said, his voice low and intimate as he leaned close to my ear, curling a pleasant shiver between my shoulder blades.“Establish our presence before approaching Selene.”
I nodded, taking a small sip of the champagne to ground myself.It tasted like ordinary expensive champagne with just a hint of something else.Honeysuckle maybe, and if sunshine had a taste, that too.
He took a sip of his as well.“It’s enhanced with fae magic to enrich the sensory experience.”
“So it’s drugged,” I deadpanned.
Damien opened and then closed his mouth, his brow furrowing.“It’s enhanced.”
I did my best not to snort.“It’s drugged, but tomato, to-mah-to, I suppose.”
For the next hour, we moved through the gathering like the couple we were pretending to be.Damien introduced me to various supernatural dignitaries using our cover story.I played my role with growing confidence, discussing artifact authentication techniques with a trio of witch historians and debating shifting cultural practices with a surprisingly progressive wolf pack representative.
Throughout it all, Damien remained close, his hand occasionally finding mine or resting at my waist.These small touches, practiced but seemingly natural, grew addicting.I found myself leaning into these contacts more than necessary, telling myself it was just good acting.
But really, I couldn’t deny what his touch ignited within me.A wildfire erupting from the smallest spark, about to consume everything.
“You’re a natural,” he murmured during a momentary lull between conversations.“That witch elder was completely charmed.”
“Well, it helps that I actually know what I’m talking about.”I scanned the room.“Any sign of Selene?”
“Not yet.From what I’ve researched, she makes a formal entrance once all guests have arrived.”His eyes tracked something across the room, his expression sharpening beneath his mask.“Marcel is here.”
I followed his gaze to where Marcel Deveraux, a fellow tomb raider, stood among a group of well-dressed supernaturals, his distinctive presence unmistakable despite the silver mask covering the upper half of his face.Even as a human, he towered over most supernaturals and was ridiculously thin.Only in his upper thirties, his hair had already turned silver.
“You know Marcel?”I asked, taking another sip of champagne to appear casual.
“I knowofhim,“ Damien corrected.“Let’s just say I didn’t hire him for our cause for a reason.”
“Because he’s a dick weasel?”
Damien choked on his next sip of champagne.When he recovered, he said, “Among other things, yes.His presence confirms that others are pursuing the Shadow Fang.”
“Or he could just be here for the canapés.”I pointed at the elaborate spread of supernatural delicacies adorning floating tables throughout the gallery.“These little glowing things are amazing, by the way.What are they?”
“Moonpeaches,” Damien said, his attention still on Marcel.“Grown in the fae realms.Careful, they’re addictive to shifters.”
“Addictive?”I hastily set down the half-eaten fruit on a nearby table.“You could have mentioned that before I took a bite.”
His lips quirked in a suppressed smile.“A few bites won’t harm you.Besides, they’re excellent for enhancing sensory acuity, which could be useful tonight.But back to Marcel.Someone from Atlas Security was staking out the Repository, and from what I’ve learned of Marcel, that’s exactly what he would do.”
I turned to stare at Damien.“What?When?”
“Tonight.I got rid of them.”
Got rid of them.He didn’t elaborate, and I didn’t ask.
“You think Marcel hired someone to watch me?But why?”
“Likely because he’s watching me too.”
“So he knows about our plan?”
The gallery lighting dimmed.A hush fell over the gathering as a melodic tone—not quite a bell, not quite a voice—resonated through the space.The massive doors at the far end of the gallery swung open without visible assistance, and a woman entered.
No, not a woman.A presence.
