Page 52 of Fanged Secrets
Sky met my gaze with a wan smile. “Well… maybe just a little less abrasive. Before you, she would have bitten Maxine’s head off her shoulders for that.”
I was pretty sure whatever Dylan planned to do with that blade was a lot worse, but I couldn’t help but smile anyway. There was a brief pause, and then, mustering a speck of courage in the presence of the beautiful woman, I signed, "How do you know sign language?"
Sky blinked in surprise, and I felt a wave of embarrassment. Maybe that had been too forward. Before I could backtrack, though, Sky’s expression softened into a curious smile.
"Sign language?" she asked, tilting her head slightly.
I hurried to explain, cheeks flushed, hands flailing through the gestures. "It’s just that... I don’t often meet people who know any sign language. But you’re a natural at it – so, thank you, I think?"
Sky’s eyes brightened and she nodded. "I’m a violin teacher. I go through a lot of violin strings, as you can imagine."
I tilted my head, curiosity piqued.
"My string supplier is deaf," she continued, something like fondness softening her features. "I thought it would be helpful to learn a little sign language to better communicate with him. It just seemed like the right thing to do, you know?"
"That’s... really considerate of you," I signed shyly, tucking a loose strand of hair behind my ear. "It’s nice to meet someone who makes that kind of effort."
Sky shrugged, hands forming the gestures effortlessly. "Communication is important, especially when words aren’t always enough."
She squeezed my arm gently before releasing me. “Anyway, you’ll do great here. And if you ever need to talk, I’m always around.”
Watching her go, something clicked in my head. It was like a switch being flipped, like I’d been sitting in the dark all my life and someone had just turned the lights on. All my life I’d been waiting for my father to come around, to see me as someone worthy of his love. But what I wanted… I would never get that from Don.
But there were people who understood – who cared enough to reach out across the barriers that so often separated people like me from others. People like my sister, and Sky. And Dylan.
My gaze drifted around the grand hall, taking in the opulence and the throng of beautiful people – beautiful vampires. This was the place where I had first wed Dylan. The memory was vivid in my mind, the surrealness of the brief ceremony. It had been a union born of duty, of strategy, with little emotion behind it. How far we had come since then. The thought made my chest tighten. What had once been indifference or even resentment had blossomed into something deep, something real. Sealed with a bite.
But now, here I was, about to put myself in harm’s way as part of a plan that felt half-baked at best and ludicrous at worst. The idea of being used as bait left a bitter taste in my mouth, and the more I thought about it, the more conflicted I felt. I was scared, no doubt about that.
I knew one thing for certain, though. If I couldn’t trust my own flesh and blood, I could at least trust Dylan. And that trust was enough to keep me from backing out. My resolve was firm, even as the anxiety turned the taste of sweet canapes to bile inmy throat. I turned back to the snack table, trying to focus on something else, anything to keep myself from overthinking.
As I picked at another small pastry, long, cold fingers closed on my shoulder, and I turned to face my wife. Dylan’s hands were moving quickly, her mouth set in a hard line. The signs were simple, but my stomach dropped to my shoes.
“He’s here.”
He’s here.My heart pounded in my chest, a staccato rhythm that left me breathless. Dylan’s hand was ice in mine, her grip tighter than necessary. I couldn’t shake the feeling that we were in over our heads.
He’s here.As we made our way through the crowd, I caught sight of my father. His expression was a mask of irritation, his eyes narrowing across the hall as he took in my appearance – calm, on the outside at least, and unscathed. It was exactly the reaction we had expected. Hehadplanned for Dylan to kill me, to provoke a reaction that would justify his next move. But we had ruined his plans, and now he was forced to improvise.
Jordan approached him through the crowd, and my father forced a smile as the vampire woman welcomed him. I could see the wheels turning in his mind, calculating, plotting. He would switch to another plan, of that I was certain. The question was, what would he do next? I had no doubt that he would send someone else after me, someone who could finish what Dylan had refused to start.
Dylan and I stayed close to each other as the evening wore on, our eyes scanning the room for any sign of danger. It felt an awful lot like the last time we’d danced an anxious tango together, shuffling across the dancefloor in my father’s club. I was well-dressed bait, and every glance, every whisper, felt likea potential threat. But I had to trust that the team was watching, that they wouldn’t let anything happen to me.
It wasn’t long before I noticed her – the tall, striking woman with an air of quiet menace about her. Her eyes were sharp, black stones in still pools, her movements deliberate as she made her way through the crowd, following after my father. It was her, the dragon shifter. The woman who confronted me outside the mansion. The woman Dylan and I had followed all the way out into the countryside. Was it her friend Dylan had killed? Did she hold a grudge…
I watched with bated breath when she approached Jordan. The redhead looked alarmed, but masked it quickly, playing up the chivalrous host act and shaking the woman’s hand. After a brief exchange of what looked like passing pleasantries, the woman drifted toward the champagne stand.
My breath caught in my throat, but I forced myself to stay calm. I subtly glanced up at Dylan. With a slight, almost imperceptible gesture, I caught her eye and then flicked my gaze toward the dragon shifter. Dylan followed my gaze, and her expression hardened.
While the woman lingered near the champagne, I took a closer look. There was something in her eyes, a resigned sadness and fatigue that struck a chord deep somewhere in my chest. It wasn’t the look of a predator eager to strike, it was the look of someone who had no choice.
It was a jump in logic, but I was sure of it. Don had set this woman up to kill me instead.
I turned slightly, signing to Dylan with deliberate, controlled movements. “I have a plan.”
Dylan’s eyes narrowed in response, but she gave a small nod.
“Watch my back,” I signed quickly, not trusting myself to manage a whisper. “But keep some distance.”
