Chapter 2

Chapter Two

PIPER

As the seat of the Head Consul, the Brinford Consulate set itself apart from the rest of the city it served. The classic French provincial architecture was meticulously maintained, from its brick exterior with numerous tall windows framed by wooden shutters to the interior’s polished hardwood floors, arched doorways, and many stone-mantled fireplaces. The oil paintings on the walls were carefully preserved and the entire building was religiously cleaned.

Every room was furnished and decorated. The main level alone had two spacious sitting rooms, several offices, a large kitchen, parlor, meeting room, library, sparring gym, and infirmary. The marble-floored foyer off the double front doors featured a grand staircase to the upper level, a sitting area off to one side, and a polished reception desk.

Best of all, the Consulate had its own generator to ensure continual electricity, central heating, and hot water on demand.

Piper’s current destination was the kitchen. Somewhere in the cavernous walk-in pantry, a chocolate cure for her anxiety waited. It was always stocked with food, and a cook from the city prepared a hot meal and snacks for the Consulate’s guests and employees every day. Daemons rarely sat down for communal meals at the long, heavy wood table that seated twelve, but the consuls made good use of it.

A warm glow from the recessed lights under the kitchen cupboards offered the only illumination, softly shining on the white granite counters and long island with a row of stools. The tall windows filling the west wall showed a faint bluish glow on the horizon, silhouetting the trees that bordered the property.

Piper paused halfway to the pantry. The door, tucked in the corner, was gaping open like a hungry mouth.

She squinted into the partially visible interior, but it was too dark to make out anything. Circling the island, she reached cautiously for the door handle.

Warm hands landed on her waist, curled over her hips, and pulled her back into a hard body. Warm breath bathed her ear.

“Hello, beautiful,” a male voice purred.

Piper flung an elbow back with enough force to crack a rib. Her assailant slid away with a chuckle, his fingers trailing across the small of her back as he retreated.

She whirled around with her fists ready to strike, her recent promise to herself not to get into more fights forgotten.

The man with wandering hands casually stepped out of easy reach and leaned a hip against the counter. If sex appeal were an artist, he was its masterpiece. Golden-brown skin flowed over the sharp planes of his cheekbones and clean edges of his jaw. His hair was an impossible platinum blond, just long enough to fall messily over his forehead, and his eyelashes were thicker than any man should have. They framed eyes of an arresting amber shade, like a dark patina brushed over pure gold.

Relaxing her stance, she gave him an insulting once-over. His gray shirt clung to his sculpted chest, the long sleeves pushed partway up his muscular forearms. A fine silver chain peeked out from the neckline, most of it hidden beneath his shirt, and the loop of another chain hung from one pocket of his fitted black jeans.

Fit, charming, and approachable, but with that oh-so-sexy hint of bad boy—exactly the kind of guy who would appeal to almost any girl. And that body packaged with that face? Very few women said no to Lyre.

Surprisingly, he didn’t seem offended that Piper was one of those few. While he never missed a chance to flaunt his availability, he’d never seriously attempted to seduce her—which she appreciated, considering he was an incubus who could enthrall any woman he wanted.

But that didn’t mean she had to tolerate his flirtatious lack of respect for her personal space.

“Find someone else to harass,” she told him coldly. “I’m not in the mood.”

His mouth quirked up. “I’m always in the mood.”

His voice was rich and deliciously smooth, which had the unfortunate side effect of scrambling her brain every time he spoke. Before she could come up with a retort, the second half of the daemon duo stepped out of the pantry, a box of crackers in his hand. Piper’s back stiffened.

Ash barely spared her a glance as he crossed the kitchen to the fridge. Now that he wasn’t aiming to terrify two bloodthirsty daemons, the aura of intimidation he carried was muted but still undeniable.

Unlike Lyre, Ash didn’t have that cultivated appeal of “I’m a little bad, but you can trust me.” He was all bad. Dressed in black from head to toe, he was a few inches taller than Lyre and his shoulders noticeably broader. He was more muscular, his t-shirt taut over his biceps. His hair looked black at first glance, but wherever it caught the light, it gleamed with a wine-red sheen. Locks of it hung in his eyes, and the left side was pulled into a tight plait against his head, similar to a French braid.

Woven into the braid was a blood-red strip of silk. The loose end hung to his shoulder, and it was the only color in his whole ensemble. Even his eyes were a cool, storm-cloud gray.

“Ash,” she greeted. She’d been aiming for a polite tone, but his name came out flat and angry.

His slow, sharp gaze turned. She hardly dared to breathe as he seemed to look right into her, taking her apart piece by piece as though he knew her every secret. Then he popped a cracker into his mouth and nodded an oh-so-casual return greeting, as if he hadn’t made her look like an incompetent idiot less than an hour earlier.

Taking advantage of her distraction, Lyre walked his fingers suggestively up her side.

“Would you knock it off?” She glared as he laughed and leaned against the counter again. “I just got in serious trouble, and I’d love an excuse to punch someone.”

His eyebrows rose. “I’m guessing the frog thing didn’t go down well with the Head Consul.”

“You know?”

“Everyone knows.”

She scrunched her face. “Why did Ether even have a pet frog?”

Lyre shrugged. “He’s pretty amphibious himself, you know. Bringing a pet here wasn’t his smartest moment. Consulate rules or not, assholes like Ozar never pass up a chance to show off.”

Speaking of assholes, Ash had opened the fridge and was pondering its contents with his back to her, paying zero attention to the conversation. In a quiet moment like this, where he wasn’t inspiring terror, she couldn’t help but wonder what his deal was. He’d only visited the Consulate half a dozen times that she could recall, and it was always when Lyre was also present.

Her gaze flicked between the two daemons. They looked to be in their early twenties, but that was where the similarities ended —one was all shades of sunlight, the other shades of black. Lyre was charming and friendly, while Ash rarely had anything to say. What brought them together at the Consulate?

Looking away before they noticed, she ducked past Lyre into the pantry and reached for the back corner of a high shelf where she’d stashed a bar of dark chocolate. It was technically supposed to be for any Consulate guest to enjoy, but if they didn’t notice it back there, well, that wasn’t her fault, was it?

Returning to the island, she unfolded the wax paper and broke off a square.

“Did the Head Consul punish you?” Lyre asked, tracking the chocolate square from her hand to her mouth. “It’s not like you could’ve stopped Ozar. Also, can I convince you to share that?”

All things considered, he absolutely could convince her. She broke off another square and handed it to him before he was tempted to try. “Not specifically. But considering his extra fun attitude today, he might still come up with a punishment.”

“Is there something special about today?” Lyre asked, gazing reverently at the chocolate square between his fingers.

“It’s just… there’s a lot going on right now,” she concluded lamely, trying to avoid revealing anything she shouldn’t while also unable to look away from Lyre as he placed the chocolate in his mouth.

His eyes rolled up, his tongue slipping across his lower lip. Piper jerked her gaze away, her cheeks heating slightly.

Ash reappeared from the fridge with a glass drink bottle, its handmade label identifying it as cream soda. It wasn’t fair. Even with a pink soda and crackers, he was still a hundred times more intimidating than she could ever be.

“Is it happening tonight?” he asked.

Piper stiffened, instantly on guard. “Is what happening?”

Ash met her guarded stare, expressionless. He couldn’t possibly know about the daemon delegates and the meeting tonight, could he? Those details, as well as the location of the artifact hidden in the Consulate, were known to only a handful of the realms’ most influential elites. And her, but that was because the Head Consul was her father and she was very good at eavesdropping.

Piper tried to rearrange her features into an expression of mild curiosity, hoping she hadn’t given anything away. Ash watched her for a moment longer—then popped another cracker into his mouth.

“Ihave to get to my lesson,” she muttered, shoving another square of chocolate into her mouth and handing the remainder to a delighted Lyre.

As she walked out of the kitchen, she snuck a glance over her shoulder. Ash stood at the counter, watching her leave, his cold eyes the color of thunderclouds.