Page 56 of The Guardian's Curse

He nodded. “I hope you can do it. He was not meant to hide away in the shadows forever.”

“You really care for him, don’t you?” she said.

Paris gave her a cocky smile as he whispered in her ear. “Don’t tell anyone. You’ll shatter the illusion if anyone knows I’ve got feelings.” His gaze lifted, then he brushed a light kiss on her cheek. “Dear Dominic would like a turn,” he said. “Don’t take his piss-poor attitude to heart. His demeanor has nothing to do with you.”

Her heart thumped as Paris held her hand and turned her around, where Dominic waited. He bowed, then took her hand firmly and spun her around the floor. It was odd, but he wore smooth leather gloves that made her wonder if he planned to carry out an assassination between dances.

Unlike Paris, he did not speak. It was a challenge to keep up with him, but his powerful lead made it impossible to misstep. Eventually, her feet began to ache, and she hesitantly patted his shoulder. “Excuse me, but could we take a break to rest my feet? High heels.”

His brow furrowed. “I do not understand such painful fashion.” He held her hand lightly and guided her off the dance floor and to the bar for a drink.

A lovely woman with glossy black hair sidled up to her. “Miss York,” she greeted. “A drink?”

“Just water, please,” she said.

The vampire woman looked a little disappointed. “I have an excellent selection of liquors if you’d like. Our bar is stocked for human guests.”

“No, thank you,” she said politely. “I don’t want to get dehydrated. Part of my skincare routine.” That, and she wanted to be stone-cold sober in the den of vampires.

The woman shrugged and brought her a glass of ice water, garnished with a neat slice of lime. “Sir?” she asked.

“No,” he said flatly.

Dominic leaned against the bar, watching the crowd silently. She stole a glance at him. He had a strong profile, with a nose that might have been too much on a less handsome face. Like Paris, he wore a well-tailored suit, though he wore a dapper black vest and black shirt underneath. But it wasn’t his sartorial choices that interested her; it was the tension on his face. There were fine lines at the corners of his eyes, and the hint of a vein rising on his forehead.

She sipped her water and closed her eyes, letting her arcane sight take over. Deep blue-black energy tangled around him in thick, knotted ropes, a marked contrast to the finer threads of crimson that marked the other vampires. And his seemed to be pulsing, as if it was aggravated by something around them.

She dared to touch his arm. He startled and pulled away. “I’m sorry,” she murmured. “Are you okay?”

His brow furrowed. “What do you mean?”

“Your curse,” she said. “I can’t help noticing it.”

“It’s none of your business,” he said. “Concern yourself with your contract.”

Her cheeks heated. “I was just—”

Dominic straightened suddenly. She followed his gaze to see the dancers parting like the blood-drinking sea before vampire Moses.

Eduardo Alazan, Elder of the Blade of Auberon, vampire king of Atlanta, and her current employer, drifted across the black and white tile like a king making his gambit. Behind him were his three advisors; she recognized Violette, the Gilded Hand, and Hugo, the Scythe. The third was the Veil, though she had not yet met the man. The music continued, but people bowed their heads politely to Eduardo as he passed through the gauntlet. A woman in a conservative black dress hurried in front of him, guiding the way to the elevated platform at the far end of the nightclub.

Hugo broke from the pack to beckon to Shoshanna. With her heart pounding, she took his offered arm and followed him to the raised dais.

A low wall surrounded a small, cozy lounge with black leather couches. A petite woman with gaudy blue jewelry waited there, her hands folded neatly in her lap. Her strapless dress left her neck and shoulders bare, inviting sharp white teeth. Eduardo sat on one of the couches and gestured to Shoshanna. “Miss York,” he said. “Sit.”

She tucked her dress under her and perched on the edge of the couch opposite him. “Sir.” Her hands were clammy and trembling.

“I hear that the protections on Mr. Thorne’s home are quite strong,” he said. “I hear something about a sunlight wall.”

“Yes, sir. It’s created from—” His eyes narrowed slightly, and she froze. “Not what you asked.”

“Are you close to finishing the work on Mr. Thorne’s home?”

“About halfway done,” she said. “I should finish in another week or so. I hope that’s okay.”

He nodded. “Take the time you need. Sooner is better, but I prefer well-done to quickly done. When you’re finished, you’ll recreate the same protections in my home. I also want this daylight spell added to the doorways in Infinity.”

His casual presumption of control over her schedule sparked her temper. “Sir, with all due respect, I have to get back to my life.”

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