CHAPTER SEVEN
Elena stopped at the sight of the blue lily lying on the carpet in front of her suite.
A present from the wolf?
She picked up the flower, running her finger over the soft blue petals as she let herself into her hotel room. This time she paused on the threshold, refusing to be caught unaware by him again.
It took only a moment to determine she was alone.
She closed the door, setting aside her bag in favor of tracing the delicate petals. She’d left Oren in the elevator, headed for the rooftop party, promising to have a drink waiting for her when she arrived.
She passed a small mirror on the wall by the door and winced at the sight of the bloody smudge on her cheek. Her side still ached from the giant dropping her, but she’d come out intact at least.
Elena 1. Giant 0.
Unfortunately she wasn’t any closer to figuring out who was after her. Not even keeping a low profile seemed to be keeping her out of trouble. Oh well.
Her phone rang, and cradling the lily in her palm, she used her other hand to fish her cell out of her purse. She read the screen. “You’re bailing on me, aren’t you?”
The sound of something smashing in the background preceded Nessa’s response, “Slave traders hit like pussies and don’t let anyone tell you different.”
Another sound, like a fist striking flesh, echoed in Elena’s ear. “Korrigans?”
The dark fairies were Nessa’s favorite immortals to track. She carried a particular grudge against the entire race after being entranced by one during the Gauntlet and turned against her friends.
“Manipulative little bastards. Sit,” Nessa growled at someone. “Thought they could get in on a little human trafficking on this side of the veil and no one would care. How long are you sticking around Vegas?”
“Another day or two.” She stroked the fragile center of the lily, smiling. “I haven’t really decided.”
“What’s up with you?”
“Nothing.”
Someone groaned in the background. “You sound funny. Did you get laid?”
“No.”
“Who was it?”
“I did not get laid.” There was no way Nessa had gotten that good at reading her voice over the phone.
They’d barely known each other before the Gauntlet, having crossed paths only a handful of times when Elena had gone to visit her twin. Nessa was best friends with ex-huntress Sorcha, Emma’s new sister-in-law, for lack of a better term.
Nessa and Elena had spent more time together in recent weeks, most of it annoying Mac—Nessa’s favorite game—but sometimes it still stunned Elena that the wild huntress paid far more attention than she let on.
“I want all the details tomorrow. We’ll do Brunch.”
“There’s nothing to tell,” she insisted.
One teeny tiny kiss on the forehead didn’t leave a lot to talk about. Except no one had ever kissed her like that. Her skin flushed in memory, and she caught herself touching the spot branded by a gargoyle’s relatively innocent kiss.
But if it was so innocent, why did it feel like another one would melt her into a molten puddle on the floor?
She shook her head at herself, tossing the flower on the table as she picked up her crushed garment bag and headed into her bedroom.
“Hey, do you know any active Shadows?”
There were other people who would know, but asking would mean inviting a scrutiny she preferred to avoid.
There was a pause on the other end of the phone. “As in the rebellion’s Shadows? Since when do you worry about bedtime stories?”
Elena rolled her eyes. “After the Gauntlet I’m pretty sure we both know most stories turn out to have more truth to them than anyone realizes.”
The whole world thought King Arthur and the Knights of the Round Table were nothing more than a myth, or at best an exaggerated retelling of a once infamous Britannia leader.
“Come on, Nessa. You’ve got to know something.” Rhiannon might not go after Morgana for reasons few immortals understood, but she had too much at stake in Morgana’s downfall not to pay attention to what the rebellion was up to.
“Tell me you didn’t sleep with a Shadow.” Nessa sounded like she was accusing the head cheerleader of sleeping with the president of the Chess Club.
“No.”
“I know you have a wild streak that can morph into a tantalizing death wish at any given moment, but they’re called Shadows for a reason. They’re a thousand shades of dark and twisted, not to mention smart and ruthless and prepared to die for their cause. Which means they’ll use anything and anyone if it will further their agenda and not even blink.”
Someone grunted in the background again.
“Stay down,” Nessa muttered, then spoke into her phone. “Damn it, Elena. A fucking Shadow? I said, sit down.”
Elena winced, holding the phone away from her ear for a moment until the commotion ceased on the other end. “I did not sleep with a Shadow.”
“I still want details. We’ll talk tomorrow. Stay away from whoever he is in the meantime. A Shadow? Seriously?” The huntress sighed. “Apologize to Mac for me. I hate missing his parties.”
Elena snorted. Nessa hadn’t exactly been invited, not that she ever let that stop her. Although Mac tolerated the huntresses hanging around the Wolf’s Den, he drew the line at private parties. Or tried to anyway.
No doubt he’d be crushed that Nessa wouldn’t be crashing the party.
“Well if you get your pussy slave traders squared away earlier than you expect, you know where to find me.”
“I’ll see what I can do, but we’re spread a little thin. Details,” Nessa reminded her before hanging up.
Okay. So brunch with Mac it was, whether he liked it or not. If the gargoyle was around, she wouldn’t have to worry about Nessa pressing her for information when there wasn’t much to tell.
What could she possibly share? That the wolf was as charming as he was clever? That she’d actually enjoyed trying clothes on when he was there to watch?
That, for one moment on that bench, she’d thought about him kissing a lot more than just her forehead?
Gods, why was she even still thinking about a silly would-be kiss anyway?
Setting her phone aside, she pulled the dress from the bag, wondering if she’d made a mistake.
To hell with it.
An hour later she stepped off the elevator and walked down the narrow corridor that led to the roof of the Wolf’s Den.
The hotel’s view wasn’t the most impressive in Vegas, the building intentionally set apart from some of the other crowded casinos in the area. Between that and the fifteen-foot privacy fence that encircled three sides of the roof, visiting gargoyles could go to stone at sunrise without fear of discovery.
The party didn’t interest Elena all that much without Nessa for company, but neither did sitting in her hotel room, wondering whether or not a certain gargoyle might put in another appearance.
Or worse thinking about the way Vaughn caught her arms, his fingers tightening in achingly sweet degrees as his mouth softened against her skin, the touch feather-light and at the same time intense enough he might as well have branded her.
Sweet Avalon.
Enough already. She hadn’t spent more than two minutes thinking about her first kiss—a sloppy exchange that dropped boys to the bottom of her priority list for years—or even losing her virginity, and here she was mooning over practically nothing.
Elena stepped through the tall gates draped in exotic plants and into a lush garden that transformed the roof from utilitarian to a breathtaking oasis. People laughed and talked next to splashing ponds and leafy trees so big they must have been brought across the veil.
Bright colored birds chatted on overhead branches and darted from shoulder to shoulder of unsuspecting passersby. She half expected to see the same exotic blooms she’d glimpsed on the trees in the courtyard during the Gauntlet, the ancient magic in them so potent the petals changed color and the vines snapped more than the plant in Little Shop of Horrors.
She snagged a glass of champagne from a tray by the bar, ignoring the flirtatious wink from Mac’s brother, Dillon. The gentle giant of Mac’s clan didn’t take offense, probably remembering the one and only time he’d tried to seduce her, and the smell of burning fur that followed.
She exchanged polite hellos with only a handful of people, including Mac who nodded at her from the other side of one of the ponds. She resisted the urge to say, “Boo,” and snap flames at the rest, especially those who openly glared at her.
She hadn’t given the guest list much thought when she’d been attending with Nessa, knowing she’d be too busy watching the huntress get a rise out of Mac to pay attention to anyone else.
She spotted a familiar canine at one of the high tables that faced the open end of the roof, and strolled over. “Hello, Scooby. How’s the honeymoon going?”
The brooding expression on the wolf that turned to face her brightened her mood instantly. “What did you do with it?”
“Ryker,” a small brunette admonished.
Elena smiled at Cori. The other immortal possessed a spirit that Elena admired even when she’d used Cori’s unfortunate situation to her advantage.
Cori smiled back, her expression genuine despite the frown on her mate’s face. “You disappeared so fast that night we never got to thank you.” When Ryker didn’t chime in, she elbowed him.
“Thank you,” Ryker managed. “What did you do with it?”
It being one of Constantine’s daggers. The same one she’d inadvertently used on Cian Callaghan, trapping him in stone over a century ago. Had she realized at the time that the Callaghan family would spend the next hundred years hunting her, she might have considered handing the dagger over to them the moment she’d accidentally channeled too much of the dagger’s explosive power.
Yeah, probably not.
While that brush with ancient magic hadn’t gone well, she’d been determined to hold on to the coveted blade. Rainy days and all that. Unfortunately, she hadn’t accounted for Cori’s father stealing the blade from her. She’d eventually gotten it back, with Cori and Ryker’s reluctant assistance and just in time to leave it behind for Tristan Callaghan, Cian’s older brother, to find.
She’d assumed the Callaghan family would abandon their crusade to find her if they had the dagger. Instead, they’d decided she was the only sorceress capable of using the mystical weapon and renewed their pursuit, dragging Emma into the whole mess when they’d confused her for Elena.
By the time Elena realized how out of control things had become and caught up with her twin, Emma had already fallen for Cian.
“It was put to good use.” Mentioning the dagger aloud while surrounded by dozens of immortals salivating for a taste of real power wasn’t wise.
Even if many of the immortals present didn’t believe that reuniting the lost daggers and finding Excalibur would lead to Arthur’s resurrection, every single one of them would go to extremes for a chance at possessing one of Constantine’s daggers.
And Elena couldn’t blame them. It had taken her years to give up the weapon and it had nearly cost her Emma.
“The weapon didn’t belong to you,” Ryker pressed.
If Vaughn was the sexy playboy-next-door type, then Ryker was the badass troublemaker you crossed the street to avoid.
“Water under the bridge.” The dagger was in Rhiannon’s care, or that of the huntresses since the goddess was out of commission. If any of the warrior women supposedly loyal to Rhiannon went rogue though, the huntresses would have much bigger problems than trying to leash the former knights.
“Who’s your friend?” Changing subjects, Cori nodded to someone behind Elena.
Wondering if Oren was close or if Nessa had made it after all, Elena turned, her gaze landing on the six foot plus gargoyle in a suit that turned him from playboy-next-door to millionaire playboy.
Well, shit.
***
Vaughn made it halfway to Elena and stopped.
Something that felt a little like nerves spiked his blood, as if he didn’t know what would happen when he reached her. And he knew—always knew—what to expect, what to account for, what variable could change the plan.
But there had never been any accounting for Elena.
He might have left the rebellion long ago if he’d run up against her, and that made even less sense than standing in the middle of the rooftop dance floor.
Elena wasn’t an obstacle he had to overcome or someone who needed to be dealt with in order for him to reach his goal. Hell, she wasn’t even something Morgana had thrown in his path.
So why couldn’t he move?
Elena lifted a glass to her lips and turned. Her gaze passed over the crowd, landing squarely on him, all hot and cold and inviting and untouchable.
Finding his feet shouldn’t have been so difficult yet it took three steps, maybe four, to make his body function properly. Elena’s eyes gleamed, and he could swear it was blatant approval and something a little darker, a little sexier, that flashed in her eyes.
He held out a hand.
She slid her palm against his, and the wolf in him nearly rolled over at the feel of her fingers threading through his.
He spun her in a slow twirl the way he had in the dressing room. “You went back for it.”
The dark blue and deep purple melted together in a silky shade that poured off one shoulder and fit snug down to mid-thigh where he was treated to a view of the most incredible legs.
It hadn’t occurred to him when they parted ways that she would go back for it. “You look…amazing.”
“Try not to sound so proud of yourself.” She turned back to the couple she’d been talking to, the light catching a smudge on her cheek that she’d tried to hide with make-up.
“What happened?”
“Nothing I couldn’t handle.”
“Elena—”
“Don’t mind us. We’re just going to get a drink.” The brunette with streaks of burgundy in her hair tugged on her mate’s arm.
The other gargoyle acknowledged Vaughn with a nod, then gestured to the glass in his mate’s hand. “You haven’t finished that one yet.”
“I’m really thirsty.” The brunette tugged him toward the bar, waving bye at Elena as they slipped away.
“Friends of yours?” He watched the couple another moment, saw them stop and talk to Mac, then brought his attention back to Elena.
“We did each other a favor a while ago.” She finished off her champagne. “So you really are stalking me.”
“And here I thought you might wait a full minute before baiting me.”
“I live to defy expectations.” She took a step closer, studying everything from his eyes to his jaw, down to his chest and then back up. “Plus, you are a little easy.”
He grinned, noticing the lily tucked behind her left ear, partly hidden by the untamed waves of dark hair. “Nice flower. You must have one hell of an admirer.”
She tipped her glass at him. “A secret admirer as it turns out. He didn’t even leave a note.”
“A mystery then.” He snagged a glass from a passing tray, took a sip and cringed at the taste.
“Come on, Barkley. Let’s get you a beer.” Elena looped an arm through the crook of his elbow. “How exactly did you score an invite after pissing Mac off anyway?”
He looked shocked. “This is a private party?”
She snorted. “Did you two know each other before?”
“Before a bitch of a goddess decided the gargoyle clans didn’t have her son’s back and sentenced us to daylight prisons indefinitely? That before?”
“That would be the one.”
Mindful of the sorceress’s innate curiosity he answered, “I know Mac through Briana.”
“I would have thought former members of the Guard would join forces with the rebellion’s Shadows.”
They reached the bar and waited for the couple ahead of them to be served. “Still trying to dig up my secrets?”
She pursed her lips. “I have to pass the time somehow.”
At the far end of the bar, an immortal who looked like a twenty-something movie star, arrogant and polished, openly glared at Elena.
Elena stepped forward, not paying any attention to the guy and ordered a martini for herself and a beer for him, along with two shots of Absinth. The potent alcohol was one of the few not so easily processed by immortals who wanted to maintain any kind of buzz.
Vaughn found himself staring at the dress again, in particular the folds that draped off her shoulder. How many tugs would it take to pull the dress all the way off?
“I just put this on.” She handed him one of the shots and after a clink of their glasses, they drank. “So you need to stop looking like you want to strip it off me already.”
A woman shouldered her way past them to the bar, not caring that she bumped into Elena.
Elena was more amused than annoyed. A man joined the rude Fae female, taking care not to touch Elena at all as he squeezed by, but dismissed her with a cool glare.
“Would it be better if I was looking at you like they are?” Like more than a few people here actually. He cupped her elbow and steered her toward the far side of the dance floor and closer to the railing that offered a colorful view of Vegas. “Why do I get the impression you’re not very popular here?”
She shrugged. “Like you said. I don’t play well with others.”
Hearing something in her voice that warned him not to dig too deep into the casual response, he leaned back against the railing. “So who’s the biggest asshole here? Present company excluded,” he tacked on.
“What makes you think I’m the type to kiss and tell?”
“Kiss? More like sabotage, maim, promise to destroy.”
She cocked her head. “Don’t stop now. I’m on the edge of my seat.”
She was also on the edge of losing her dress. She just didn’t know it yet.
Angling toward her, he traced the edge of the fabric that didn’t show off nearly enough now that he was standing so close to her. “You thrive on the rush of people underestimating you and then taking them by surprise, and judging by the looks aimed your way in the last few minutes, you’ve done a damn good job.”
Her shoulders stiffened. “I don’t need anyone’s approval.” She stared out at the city, her brow furrowed. She took a sip of her martini and faced him, that familiar expression of vague amusement on her face.
He decided it was his least favorite one and not nearly as genuine as her real smile. And he still couldn’t get the sound of her laugh out of his head.
“Besides,” Elena continued, “I’d miss way too many parties if I let a few hurt feelings keep me away.”
“Hurt feelings?” If he’d been drinking, he would have choked on his beer. “People don’t contemplate creative decapitation over hurt feelings.” He nodded toward the guy at the bar playing with a small blade, flipping it across his fingers while he watched Elena.
Elena turned her back to the guy as if daring him to have balls big enough to throw it at her. Knowing Elena it would probably make her night, or at least the part that came with getting even.
“He might be the only one here that really does fall under the kiss and tell scenario.”
The wolf bristled at the thought of Mr. Hollywood’s hands anywhere near Elena’s body. Still, he nudged her with his elbow, half-turning her to face the crowd, more than a little curious about the immortals with an axe to grind.
He gestured to a bull of a man in a pure white suit and enough rings on his beefy fingers to make him look like a Super Bowl alumni ten times over. “What did you do to him?”
“Won his car in a poker game.”
“That’s it?”
“It was one of only ten made and I may have put a few scratches on it before he could win it back.”
A few scratches? Right. “Was there anything left of it?”
Her eyes flashed wickedly. “The frame and half the driver’s seat I believe.”
“And the blonde by the fountain.” A dragon Vaughn guessed, catching the iridescent gleam of jewel-toned scales that flashed across the woman’s cheek whenever she glanced at Elena.
“I outbid her at an auction a few years ago.”
He waited, knowing there had to be more to the story than that.
Elena didn’t disappoint him. “She didn’t appreciate the splash of color I added to a priceless sculpture she admired.” She glanced at Vaughn. “Have you ever noticed how drab some artists are with their color palette?”
“And the sculptor?”
She shook her head. “Not nearly as important as the model he used to make his masterpiece.”
“The dragon?”
“Believe it or not she was much more interesting rocking the tie-dyed look.”
He tried and failed to picture it but laughed anyway.
“And she really hated the cherry-colored pasties I added before dropping it off at one of her parties.”
“A party she didn’t invite you to?”
She wrinkled her nose. “I would never be that petty. I was the guest of honor.”
The wind blew her hair across the real smile he couldn’t get enough of. He captured the wild strands and tucked them behind her ear. “And the guy on the left, standing in the group of women?”
“Not much.” She shrugged. “Just seduced one of his wives.”
This time he did choke.
Elena helpfully slapped him on the back. “Kidding.”
He surveyed the group of women again. “Let me pretend for a second that you’re not.” He closed his eyes. Elena punched him.
He laughed, nearly spilling his beer. “Then there’s the guy in the corner, by himself. Fae?”
“Sorcerer,” Elena answered, the change in her voice making him second-guess the game, but she continued without any prompting. “I took something from him I can’t ever give back.” She took a sip from her wine and glanced away.
He knew genuine regret when he saw it, but didn’t push for the full story. Not this time. “What about her?”
Elena frowned at the petite redhead standing at the edge of the dance floor. She glanced at Vaughn and moved a little closer, her hip bumping against his. Her fingers curled around his biceps, her warmth sinking straight to the bone.
Sweet Avalon, he couldn’t stop himself from staring at her lips.
“The only thing I did to her was move in on the man she’d planned on approaching.”
“I think I need to hear more about the move in on part.”
“And I think I need to check out the ladies room.” Finishing her drink, Elena set her glass down on the closest table and strolled away.
Wait for it.
She glanced over her shoulder, her smile heart-stopping.
Grinning, Vaughn watched her until she disappeared through the gate and headed inside.
“Is it done?”
Vaughn straightened, studying the contents of his glass. “Tomorrow, just after sundown.” In less than twenty-four hours he’d have Piper back. No more thoughts of what she was going through eating him up inside, no more fear he’d lose her like he lost his parents. Just a few more hours to get through and she would be safe. Finally.
Mac nodded, smiling at one of the guests by the bar. “Elena wasn’t part of the plan.”
“Plans change.” The last two days sure as hell hadn’t gone down the way he’d expected.
“Does she know what it was you took?”
“I don’t even know what it was.” He also knew that wasn’t the answer Mac was looking for.
Mac adjusted the cuff of his jacket. “I need to know if she’s going to be a problem.”
If Mac had asked him the same question two days ago, he might have answered differently. “I’ve got it under control.”
“Keep it that way. The last thing I need is Cian and Emma getting dragged into this because of her. Never mind Cale and Sorcha and her fucknuts huntress friend.” He exchanged a few words with a few guests that strolled past.
“You won’t be tied to this.” Vaughn drained his glass, his tone not quite as casual as Mac’s. “How long until it’s discovered missing?”
“I’d like to say not for another century or two, but that’s probably not going to happen.”
Vaughn nodded and moved to walk away.
Mac caught his arm, the wolf in his eyes. “You owe me and I plan to collect someday.”
“And?”
“And you need to be breathing for me to do that.” He indicated the doorway Elena had disappeared through. “And that female is not someone you want to get on the wrong side of.”
“And here I didn’t expect to have a wingman watching my back tonight.”
Mac’s smile was anything but friendly. “If Elena gets into this any deeper, it won’t just be you who will have to deal with the fallout. Do yourself a favor and stay away from her. And if you can’t do it for yourself, then do it for your sister.”