Total pages in book: 194
Estimated words: 187021 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 935(@200wpm)___ 748(@250wpm)___ 623(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 187021 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 935(@200wpm)___ 748(@250wpm)___ 623(@300wpm)
She surveyed the room, finding the leader of the Roulettes, Carmine Garcia, perched on a chair some distance away. He had smooth, light-brown skin and wore his thick, black hair slicked back. He was leaning toward Colette as if she were his entire world. They had been having an affair for years. Colette never admitted it was exclusive, even though Kierse suspected it was, aside from client work.
And there was Madame Colette—the earth and moon paused in their orbits to revel in her loveliness. Gen was so much her mirror, and so much a mashup of whoever her father was. Colette wore a flattering maroon dress with little tassels that swayed with her figure. Her milky skin was unlined and her lids a deep blue of the ocean right before a storm. When she set those eyes on Kierse, it was like coming home.
“About time you showed your face,” Colette said as she rose to her feet.
“Did you need someone to properly pour your brandy?” Kierse asked with a smile.
“At least you remember your place.”
Her smile stretched wider.
“Did you bring my daughter with you?”
“Genesis and Ethan both,” Kierse told her. “Though they each got a bit…distracted.”
Colette’s gaze followed her to where Ethan was in deep conversation with Corey. She sighed as if aggrieved. “Youth.”
Kierse extracted herself from Colette and went to congratulate Nate and Maura. They were seated at the front of the room surrounded by Dreadlords and a handful of Maura’s nursing friends, who kept eyeing the wolves with interest.
“You made it!” Maura cried as she jumped up to hug Kierse. She was dressed in a stunning salwar kameez—a two-piece garment comprised of long, flowy pants and a knee-length sheath of off-white and gold, embroidered with shimmering beads. The sleeves were sheer with intricate embellishments. A cream shawl draped across her narrow shoulders. Matching dangly earrings and bangles completed the ensemble.
“Good to see you,” Nate said with a grin. “I see you got Ethan out, too.”
“We did.”
“Any trouble?” he asked.
“Always.”
Maura laughed. “You should know better than that, Nathaniel. This is Kierse McKenna we’re talking about.”
“If you weren’t my favorite kind of trouble,” Nate said, pressing a kiss to Maura’s wrist, “it would certainly be Kierse’s bullshit.”
Maura rolled her eyes and yanked her arm away. “Where is your plus-one? Tall, dark, dangerous.” She waggled her eyebrows. “I thought you’d bring him along, too.”
“Uh, yeah. He’s not like…social.”
Nate coughed into his beer. “That’s a word for it.”
Maura pouted. “I was so looking forward to meeting him.”
“Next time,” Kierse said uncertainly.
Even though she very much doubted that Graves would brave a wedding, either.
She was about to change the subject when the front door opened again, letting the last lingering bits of daylight into the darkened room. Kierse only turned because the rest of the room had gone quiet.
A nightmare had walked into their midst.
Graves.
Chapter Forty-Seven
Kierse was sure that she was seeing a mirage. But no, it was Graves in the entrance to Club 21 for Nate and Maura’s engagement party. He was dressed in a classic black suit with a black button-up and tie paired with fitted black gloves. He looked every bit as threatening and terrifying as she’d ever seen him. Those thunderstorm eyes assessed the room for a challenge and found none. He didn’t need a weapon on hand. He was the weapon.
The tension released from his shoulders like a snake uncoiling.
Her breath caught as heat pooled in her core. She could practically feel him pressing against her mind, offering her a glimpse into what he wanted from her. How he wanted to take her. Or was that just her mind running away from her? How quickly could she get him out of this room to ease the ache in her?
Graves stalked across the room. The crowd parted for him as if they could feel the weight of his oppressive gaze on them. She shivered at his approach, wondering exactly how this was going to go down. Graves had a charisma that she could not deny, but she had never seen him in this sort of situation. Only in ones in which he was in command.
Here he was in her world. Not his.
His hand slid around her waist, and he pressed a possessive kiss to her lips, claiming her before the entire room. “Wren,” he said against her mouth. “Sorry I’m late.”
“Late,” she breathed, suddenly forgetting how words worked.
“I went to check out the door. It’s gone. Curator must have moved it.”
“Oh.” She brought herself back to the present. “You went into the market alone?”
“I met Vale,” he reassured her. “I had to pay him for his help last time anyway. I was planning to be here when Gen mentioned you would arrive, but I got held up.”
“Gen mentioned?”
“She gave me the information,” he said casually. A smirk on his lips said he’d wanted to surprise her. “I was invited, correct?”