Chapter 16

16

The gala fulfilled every fantasy I imagined.

Every surface and body in the place glittered with wealth. Thorn took my arm, and we walked a red carpet to the front door, where he handed an attendant an invitation.

“Shade Dagon Thorn and guest.” The woman smiled broadly at him and then shot me a dismissive glance. “Enjoy your evening.”

I met his eyes, and we both laughed over her expression. “Well, we’ve discovered who they’re catering to, haven’t we?”

He shrugged. “Don’t worry. Come Monday, the woman won’t have a job anymore.”

I squeezed his arm. “Don’t bother. It’s not important. I’m not worried about it. Women have treated me like that my whole life. Or did you forget that you’re not the first important man I’ve been with?”

He paused and gazed down at me. “The females in your pack treated you that way?”

The bafflement on Thorn’s face heated my neck in embarrassment.

“The females were the loudest voices voting for my exile.”

“And your mate went along with it?”

I shrugged. What could I say? Talking about Kye’s betrayal and the pack’s ostracism still struck a raw nerve. It’s ‘change-the-subject’ time.

“Shade, huh?”

Thorn gazed over the crowd and didn’t answer as if the question was irrelevant.

“Thorn?”

“Yes,” he said, surveying the crowd. “Call me that.”

I glared at Thorn for the dismissive manner in which he treated my question, but he paid no attention.

Thorn waited for several people to pass before leaning in close. “Use our link here. Makes it easier to communicate. Ready?”

I nodded. “Sure. I feel the next artifact. Shall we?”

He urged me to guide us through the room, pausing when people greeted and glad-handed him. But I glanced over the room because the artifact pulled hard—more than the stone eye. It’s as if when I collected more pieces, more wanted to be found.

What would Thorn say about that?

Did Thorn bank on my artifact radar? The ping of paranoia in my head constantly whispered I knew little about the man. And he seemed to know everything about me.

Then again, I’m not a mob boss or a demon. It’s easy to suss out intel about moi since pack members were all too happy to dish out all the ick they had collected.

Yet another gorgeous, expensive-looking woman approached, grabbing Thorn by the arm below my hand to yank the man away.

“Dagon, darling, where have you been?” She pouted and thrust out an overly crimson bottom lip. “I’m starting to think that you’re ghosting me.”

Slightly embarrassed, I donned the bored expression the invitation check lady had. I tried to disengage, but Thorn slid his free hand over mine and held me in place.

Thone gave the invading woman an icy stare. “Whatever sparks that idea, Victoria? The daily calls I haven’t returned? Or perhaps it’s that I specifically asked your father to prevent you from dropping by my office before I gave security an order to drag your sweet ass out the door?”

A gasp, almost a giggle, escaped me. I tried unsuccessfully to cover it with a cough as I took a sudden interest in the crystal chandeliers above us. The woman’s pale blue gaze burned into me, and I finally met her stare.

“Who the hell are you?”

“Does it matter, darling?” I smiled genially, imitating the upward lilt of the word she had affected.

“No.”

A broad smile spread on my lips.

“See? It doesn’t matter at all.”

With another tight smile, I blew out a breath. It was a struggle to keep from exploding in a shower of snark. The steady pulsing of the two marks, with the additional pull of the waiting artifact, grated on my nerves, and I fought the urge to erupt in more scathing comments.

“The Hand of Belial corrupts the person who possesses it.” Chastity’s words haunted me then, and I bit my tongue to keep my mouth closed and cattiness free, but it was a struggle.

I can’t be around people right now. I don’t think that at Thorn, but his intentional presence in my head calmed me.

“It’s okay. You’re doing fine.”

I blinked once, realizing this was what he meant by communicating through our link. It’s like a mental phone call.

Thorn nodded to the woman and turned away, putting his body between us before we strolled toward the exhibition. We didn’t speak, which was preferable. There are reasons why I worked alone and never let over-eager clients shadow me. But Thorn isn’t like most clients. He isn’t even like most men I interacted with.

Thorn remained silent as we glided through the crowd. His light touch lingered on my arm, allowing me to guide him over the polished floors while appearing to be led by him instead.

This connection could be useful.

With our connection, he silently replied.

I’m so glad to be of service.

I sensed his facetious tone and ‘heard’ it and grinned.

I like submissive Thorn. I’m an excellent boss, and we should employ this hierarchical structure between us more often.

You’re a brat.

I stifled a giggle as the artifact’s pull enveloped me. “It’s somewhere among this display,” I murmured. “But while I feel it, I don’t—” I paused as a stone, shaped like a spearhead on a velvet pillow, vibrated so subtly that I wouldn’t have noticed it without these new upgrades to my abilities. “Why are we looking for it?”

“The artifacts are a part of who you are,” he said.

I frowned at him. “How do you know?”

“That’s why this artifact calls you. It’s the next one you need, so it’s the one you sense.”

Okay, that is cool. I could use more of the 4-1-1, though.

Thorn did not respond, and I don’t think I’ll get the answers I sought during this fancy black-tie event.

But Thorn momentarily leaned into the same display case before recovering and moving on to the next display. We moved past the tables and through the beautiful art. After a few minutes, Thorn gave me a tutorial about what we gazed at.

“People of the area pride themselves on their culture, without recognizing where our folk tales and monsters come from.”

I laughed. “I thought we were the monsters and the folk tales. So many of us are.”

He chuckled and squeezed my hand. “Not you, though. There doesn’t seem to be anyone quite like you in the stories.”

I lowered my voice. “You looked for someone like me? A shifter who can’t shift?”

He glanced at me. “Of course, I did. I needed to know who you are and what to expect. The real question is, why haven’t you?”

“Oh.” I shrugged and pretended to study a gorgeous, beaded shawl. “I did when I was younger. But I was in a pack back then. I had everything I needed, and I only cared about looking for ways to initiate the change, not looking for anything else I could be.”

“Well, you’re no shifter.”

I glared at him as we moved past a heavily laden hors d’oeuvres table. “Thanks a lot.”

“That wasn’t a criticism.” He paused and gave me a long look. “Perhaps first, you need to unlearn the belief that being pack is a virtue. Packs aren’t the end all be all.”

“The pack said the Syndicates killed my parents.”

“Maybe, but your parents weren’t pack either, so I don’t know how they’d know that or care.”

I stared at him. “What?”

He grimaced as though it was something he hadn’t meant to let slip out. “It’s a story for another time, when there are fewer people around and you don’t have the distraction of the job you need to do.”

“I’m going to hold you to that.”

We migrated through the exhibit and toward another table. My brain hummed with the strangely comforting but new information about my parents. At the same time, the artifact pulled me like a bungee cord. Thorn seated me at a dining table and then settled beside me. The tables shimmered in fine midnight blue silk. Elaborate wax candles lit the centerpieces.

The master of ceremonies took the microphone and introduced the evening’s program. Thirty minutes later, about halfway through the guest speakers, Thorn lay his hand on my thigh.

“In the next few minutes when the servers come around again, order a drink, then excuse yourself to the ladies here. Did you bring your tools?”

I nodded automatically, and he tapped his temple.

Yes, I brought tools, but is there an alarm?

Who would put an alarm on stone arrowheads and bead art? The one thing on our side is the tragic undervaluing of the craftsmanship here.

I did as he instructed and stepped away from the table, and almost immediately, panic set in. I scented Kye before I laid eyes on him.

Is he after the artifact? Either way, I can’t allow him to grab the artifact. Anxiety to take the artifact quickly seized me, and my stomach turned with the champagne I had less than a half hour before. I hurried toward the ladies’ restroom without spotting my ex. I know he’s near, but I kept my head down. If I run into him, I’ll get flustered and unable to complete my finding.

Because a crowded ballroom is no place to break out the wire cutters and knives, I entered the women’s restroom. No wolves followed me in, and I sat my ass down in a stall and retrieved my limited supply of concealed tools.

But the cases are easy enough to open if I can do it without being seen.

What I’d give for actual telekinesis.

I waited for the lights to lower and the MC announcements of the evening’s charity donors to move behind the case nearest the ladies’ restroom. Kye’s close, but he’s still nowhere in sight. Maybe he’s here to grease palms and climb social ladders? It’s what he was always best at.

The lock on the rear is a typical easy-to-pick retail slide lock. I unlocked it with a flat pin with a near-silent ’snick’ and lifted the glass just enough to slide the stone out the back. I took the pillow with it, leaving the display a little unbalanced but not overtly appearing to be missing anything.

The stone lay warm in my palm. I wrapped it in a cotton square I’d brought along for this reason and tucked it into my bra, under my right breast, shivering when it passed over the mark on my chest.

Like recognizes like.

My thoughts wandered momentarily, looking over the rest of the displays with my best-bored expression. The MC finished his spiel, and the lights brightened again, so I chucked my tools into the trashcan in another fabric square. Then I made my way back to Thorn.

“Look who’s here, Fiona. I didn’t think criminals cared about children’s hospitals.” Kye and a wolf I didn’t recognize in a mini dress and heavy makeup stood between Thorn and me.

Thorn glanced past them at me, and I gave him a nod. Thorn said when his gaze returned to Kye, “All things considered, perhaps you should be more careful who you call a criminal, Mr. Driftwood.”

I froze, unsure how to avoid making this confrontation worse. As I grew more upset, the stone lodged against my breast’s tender skin heated to a stinging temperature.

“You’re not welcome here, Thorn. People might be afraid of you, but soon, you won’t be the most powerful creature in Baton Rouge anymore and then you’ll leave, or you’ll—go through some things.”

“Kye,” I blurted his name without thinking.

“I thought I smelled your whore,” he sneered.

Thorn’s eyes glowed, the red taking over the brown, his teeth beginning to elongate almost like a vampire’s, at least if every tooth in his mouth were vampire’s fangs. Kye stared and bared his teeth.

Thorn had attacked Kye in the shack that night, and now he’s showing his demonic side to Kye and these people. What the hell would that do to Thorn’s high-roller reputation?

Meanwhile, the artifact wanted to blister my flesh through the encased stone and the meager protection of the handkerchief.

Kye stepped forward, his lip curling, and I could spot the first signs of the change. Kye’s beard began to get thick, and his face elongated, spiking my alarm. I stepped between them, ignoring Kye to focus on Thorn’s eyes.

I placed my hands on either side of his face and searched his eyes, using our connection to break through his rage. I projected calm and composure until Thorn’s gaze finally met mine, and the swirling scarlet slowed, diminished, then softened to a deep chocolate brown with flecks of gold and red.

“Hey,” I whispered. “There you are.”

He licked his lips, staring down at me inscrutably. “There you are,” he echoes softly, bending so close I could lean in for a kiss.

Kye stormed off, but I hardly noticed past the pounding of my heart. I don’t know what will happen next.

And I was about to be disappointed. Thorn’s smooth-as-glass persona slid over his features, and our connection dissipated.

“Let’s go,” he said coldly.