Page 95 of Ophelia's Vampire

I let out a thoughtful hum and stoop down to gather a paperweight and a handful of pens littering the ground in front of the desk, trying my best not to seem interested.

“You could accompany me, if you wish.”

I stand and face him with an arched brow. “You need help with the job?”

Cas chuckles softly and shakes his head. “No, I can’t say I need much assistance with this one. Martin’s always more than forthcoming with the pieces he’s looking to sell and acquire.”

“Then why do you need me to come?”

“His gatherings are usually quite entertaining. He considers himself not just a connoisseur of art and antiquities, but of people, and prides himself on collecting a very large and very eclectic circle of friends.”

“I’m still a little foggy about what that has to do with me.”

Cas lets out a long-suffering sigh, though when he steps around the desk to stand in front of me, buries a hand in my tousled hair and turns my face up to look at him, there’s nothing but warm amusement in his voice.

“I’m asking you to come because I think you might enjoy yourself. And because I’d like to have you there.”

“Oh.” My mind spins for a moment as I mentally reframe the proposition.

It sounds like… a date.

Which, given how precarious everything feels between us, seems like it might be a really stupid idea.

“Yes,oh. And if you’d like to keep it in more professional terms, I’ll also have you know that Martin has a predilection for making friends of somewhat ill-repute. So who knows? You may find yourself some new clients.”

Okay, so maybe not a date.

But it’s still nice of him to invite me, and I’m still curious and bored enough with the case stalled out to accept the invitation.

Even if that means making a decision I might regret, getting closer to him than I should, slipping just a little further into something I can’t look at too hard, not right now.

“Alright. I’m in.”

Cas severely undersold Martin’s party.

Two hours in and I’m having the time of my damn life. I’m sitting with a couple of mountain lion shifters—twins, who are pretty much indecipherable from each other. They seem very, very interested in the work I do, especially as it pertains to an ex-employee of the beauty products company they founded, who may have run off with some trade secrets.

It’s not just business tonight, either. I’ve had at least a dozen different conversations with the rest of Martin’s guests. Orcs and demi-fae and nymphs, a handful of shifters and even a minotaur who’s currently chatting with someone I’m assuming is a shade, though it’s hard to tell as the mass of deep black shadows only rarely configures itself into a human-shaped form.

I’ve been flying solo for most of the evening, though Cas and I find our way back into each other’s orbit every now and again.

Whether he’s angling for time with Martin or simply enjoying catching up with other acquaintances, I’m not sure, but as my conversation with the mountain lion shifters ends, I take the brief moment alone to scan the room for him.

Cas seems in his element here, at ease, completely natural in this informal setting with this motley of paranormal folk. Exuding the charm which comes so naturally for him, he’s flitted from group to group all evening.

Sitting on one of the stools at the wide oak bar, turned toward the room, I let my eyes wander until they find him again.He’s deep in conversation with an orc, laughing at whatever was just said, and my heart does a funny little flip in my chest.

It makes me wonder who the real Cas is.

The charmer who took me up to a rooftop to stare breathlessly down at a city of stars, or the ruthless, commanding vampire who stormed into Philippe’s office.

Or maybe he’s someone else. Maybe the truth of him is closer to those rare times I’ve seen him unguarded.

In his bed, after confessing the truth of his past in a bitter, self-flagellating tone that sounded like he was expecting me to flee the room and never turn back. Or back on that roof seven years ago, all the harsh, disappointed lines of his face illuminated by the city below.

I am no means and no end, sweet Ophelia. I am no thing to be used, even for a creature so beautiful as you.

How often in his centuries has Cas been seen, valued, held, and cherished for who he is rather than what he can offer?

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