Jacob's Trial [Forbidden Legacy 2] (Siren Publishing Ménage Amour) (22 page)

“…human?” Her eyebrows lifted in daring challenge. Her gaze held his captive, and Helcyon stilled within himself. The Danae was certainly clever.

“My moods are my business, my lord. You will fill her womb with your child before the next full moon.”

Or what?
He dared the thought, testing her.

“Or I will send a more loyal Fae to do it for you.”

“Then you will be signing his death warrant.” The cool promise whispered past his lips with utter conviction. He would cleave in two any male that sought to take Cassandra from them, be he Fae, Wizard, or human.

The Danae rose, her power surging around her like a living cloak. The air rippled without a hint of breeze. Her power stung his nerves, razors slicing at his flesh.

“Sworn to her you may be, my lord. But it was my service that brought you to her bed, and it will be my will that removes you from it should you defy me in this.”

She strolled toward him, danger gliding in every step.

“Your child, my lord, will nestle in her womb by the next full moon, or I will call in the favor you owe. The oath you gave before the court, sworn in your blood, that if you betrayed me I could end your bloodline. Every last one of you.”

“And should the Wizard’s seed take root?”

“Then you will tear it out.”

The air roiled and the Queen vanished, stepping into the ether and away. Helcyon stared at the silent village, sensing the somber eyes of the Brownie and their solemn witness to the Danae’s
frank
word.

He sent out a tendril of thought.
Three moons. She is human after all.

The Danae’s satisfaction echoed in her acceptance before she snapped the connection. Helcyon let out a slow breath. Three moons was hardly a boon, but it bought them vital time.

Twisting Underhill around him, he walked away from the village and down the long passageway to Cassandra.

To Jacob.

To their Wizards.

To home.

It seemed hard to believe they were rapidly approaching the end of their three-day deadline. Cassie checked her makeup in the small compact. The sweep of brown, tans, and gold set off her golden eyes perfectly. She’d refused contacts, because anyone expecting her natural eye color would be thrown off balance by the change.

A change they’d carefully hidden from the rest of the world. Next to her Helcyon stretched out his long legs. She loved the butter-soft leather jerkin he wore over the dark-green shirt. Both opened at the collar, providing just a taste of the cut chest beneath.

She’d insisted he pull his long, dark hair back, securing it at the nape of his neck. The too-gorgeous sweep of his pointed ears would send the photographers into a frenzy. Tipping her head critically, she admired the contrast of his aristocratic manner to the peasant,
Lord of the Rings
fashion he preferred.

She could sell bridges around the world with a single endorsement from his gorgeous mouth.

Their limo prowled through the thickening traffic around Saltano’s, L.A.’s latest, hippest spot to see and be seen. The sidewalk pulsed a constant stream of strobing camera flashes as the line of cars emptied their front-page passengers and tabloid captions.

“Cassandra, are you still certain you want to go through with this?” When she’d presented her idea to Jacob and Helcyon, neither had said a word. Instead, they’d mulled it over and finally conceded that her plan had merit. She would meet with the inquisitor general, but on her terms.

When she’d issued the invitation, she’d refused to allow him even a modicum of say in the venue. Saltano’s or nowhere. The thick glass windows gave the illusion that the diners came there to be seen. The flock of paparazzi waiting on the sidewalk filled their time by snapping pictures of actors slurping down oysters while the latest reality “it” star sipped champagne and flirted outrageously with her many-times-married consort.

It was a fish bowl, but one she could control. Within minutes of their arrival, Twitter would be buzzing, TMZ would be posting, and the tabloids would be offering millions. Helcyon’s photograph at the press conference the week before featured heavily in the numerous stories filling in the web searches.

“It’s going to be perfect. Remember what I said, we control the story. The best campaign is the campaign that puts us directly in the spotlight. You in particular. Your photograph is worth a fortune. The cameras will be focused on you all evening. If they try anything, it will be live in sixty seconds and viral in an hour.”

“Like the Roman mob.”

“More or less. He who controls the mob, controls Rome.” Cassie indulged herself with a quick caress down his cheek as the limo slid into place in front of the red ropes marking Saltano’s entrance.

Paul slid out of the driver’s seat while Jude took a stance in front of the limo’s rear passenger door. Helcyon captured her hand and lifted it to his lips, brushing a kiss across the knuckle.

Warmth bloomed in her belly. “Domoir, darling, if I forgot to mention it earlier. You look smashing.”

The Glashtyn’s morph into the stretch limo delighted her as they stood on the steps of their home. It was one thing to recognize the Glashtyn possessed the ability to change his form. It was completely another to bear witness to the awesome sight. The beast was the third-best thing that ever happened to her.

Domoir purred in response.

“Ready for your debut?” Cassie pushed her lips wide into a brilliant smile. The guys were letting her call the shots on this one. They’d added security arrangements, including the detail of Paul and Jude as their Wizard escorts and Domoir, of course. But everything else was her suggestion.

Controlling the media, feeding the frenzy, this was her bread and butter.

“As you wish.” He turned her hand over and murmured a kiss against her palm. The simple intimacy of it threatened to riot through her emotions, and she exhaled slowly, slipping into the role she’d designed for herself.

One soft knock against the glass and Jude opened the door. Cameras strobed around her, turning the Los Angeles sidewalk into a disco of light that left the afterimages burning on her retinas. She’d chosen a Grecian gown. She’d helped the fast-rising designer just two years before outfit some of Hollywood’s best and brightest for awards season. The outfit scooped her breasts and left her arms sleeveless. The warm air, cooled by the Pacific breezes, brushed across her skin. Jude cupped a hand under her elbow, helping her clear the door as she smoothed down the folds of fabric wisping around her legs.

The dark sienna of the dress was just dramatic enough to distract the crowd until Helcyon emerged. Her womb tightened at the picture he presented. Midnight-black hair pulled back to reveal the high planes of his cheekbones, the perfect cut of his jaw, and the dear-lord-please-fuck-me-now green eyes.

The hum of the photographers echoed through the night as they jostled for a good vantage, cameras clicking away. In his rich black leather and dark-green shirt, he looked like he’d just strolled off the cover of a romance magazine.

The press ate him up. Cassie nodded approvingly as Helcyon paused for twenty seconds upon exiting the vehicle. The move provided the photographers with a perfectly framed shot. One that contrasted his archaic dress and sexual-fantasy-inducing pointed ears against the modern backdrop of the busy boulevard and limousine.

Paul closed the door behind Helcyon and tapped the vehicle lightly. To anyone else it would appear he’d told the driver they were clear. Domoir purred back into traffic, easily slipping between the cars despite his length.

The twenty-second coin paid to the paparazzi ferrymen, Helcyon offered Cassie his arm, and she slid a manicured hand into the crook of his elbow. They strolled the eight feet to the doors already held open by the gaping staff, and Cassie smiled.

They were going to be trending on Twitter before they sat down at the table.

The waitstaff weaved a path through the restaurant that put Helcyon on display all the way toward their table, located strategically before the largest and longest of Saltano’s windows. Cassie kept her expression neutral lest she burst out laughing at the sitcom star dribbling red sauce down his chin.

Helcyon commanded attention. All the Fae did, really. But he was the only one in the restaurant. Based on the gathering crowd outside, she’d hazard a guess that he was the only one out and about this evening. Since she dictated their schedule currently, she’d postponed two engagements to create just such an effect.

A half smile curving her lips, she wasn’t surprised to see the inquisitor general already seated. The large, round table designed for six was set precisely to Cassie’s specifications for three. Helcyon motioned the waiter away from her chair, pulling it out himself and settling her closer to the interior. They’d discussed it earlier. He would take the seat closest to the window, allowing the cameras ample opportunity to sample his every expression.

Jacob’s snort of derision at Helcyon’s beatific nod added to her reasoning that Jacob not attend. He’d scowled, argued, and finally caved when she agreed that he could send two Wizards in escort. Three, if she were to count Dalton lounging on the rooftop across the street, but she pretended to not notice him.

Cassie took her time about sitting, smoothing her skirt and crossing one leg over the other before hooking the silver chain of her purse over her knee and settling the clutch in her lap properly. Helcyon took the seat next to her, one knee bumping hers lightly before he settled his warmth against her.

Only after he was seated did she lift her gaze. The inquisitor general sat directly across from her. His thick hair offered the suggestion of darkness before it became shot through with gray. His face was wide, his nose even, and his chin definitely rounded with the barest hint of a jowl.

His eyes arrested her, however, completely pale as though all the color had bled away from them. His pupils, in contrast, were like twin orbs of night, plucked from the sky and planted in a moon-washed landscape.

He’d look better with a beard
. It would add to his regal bearing and disguise the thickening of his cheeks, a condition that many men seemed to suffer from as they put on a few pounds in their senior years.
Of course, they’re fifty, and he’s like twenty-five times that.

The waiter appeared at the edge of the table with three napkins held out for her inspection. She pointed toward the black one and accepted it. The next four minutes were punctuated by the crowd’s less-than-sedate whispers about Helcyon and the waiter’s stuttering recitation of the chef’s specials and the wine list.

She chose the Riesling for herself and a glass of the Elvish wine for Helcyon. They would share the penne pasta with mushrooms, asparagus, and zucchini with white sauce on the side. The corner of Helcyon’s mouth lifted at her order, but he said nothing. She spared him a grin but relaxed the expression to neutral when it was the inquisitor general’s turn to order.

“Water.” The man’s voice was low, gruff, and carried the trace of an accent she couldn’t readily identify.

“Anything else, sir?”

“No. Just water.”

“Really, you won’t break bread at this table. That’s a little like closing negotiations before you’ve even invited them to the table, isn’t it?” She lifted her eyebrows.

The Wizard exhaled a low hissing breath. “The steak.” He flicked a look at Helcyon. “Bloody. With a side of the lamb chops.”

The waiter nodded but seemed to think better of offering any salad and left them to fetch their order. A buzz drifted across the room as a dozen different tables ordered the Elvish wine. Fortunately, her arrangement with Saltano’s included sending over Helcyon’s favorite Five Alive, spelled to a rich red, in a decanter prepared by Dalton with a flourish in her kitchen. They were free to sell everyone else the most expensive wine they could produce. James Cuccini was going to wet himself after tonight’s receipts.

“You two are excused.” The Wizard motioned to Paul, who was positioned just behind Helcyon’s chair, and Jude, who’d taken a stance to her immediate left. She supposed that Paul felt more comfortable keeping an eye on Helcyon.

Neither Wizard obeyed the inquisitor general.

“I’m afraid I’ve asked them to stay close for the evening. It’s a show, after all, and they frame the picture beautifully.” Dressed in all-black suits, they looked like runway models, but they served more as a backdrop for Helcyon’s exotic appeal and security. It wasn’t uncommon for protestors to arrive at the Fae events, decrying them as an abomination against God, or angels marking the second coming, or, her absolute favorite, Vulcans.

“You are to be complimented on your strategy, young lady. The public restaurant. The press. The litters of humans everywhere. That’s a great deal of collateral damage to take responsibility for. One would think you’d learned your lesson in Grant Park.” The man leaned back in the chair. His suit was old, favoring a style popular in the 1940s, but the dapper conservatism was trendy, so it was hardly noticeable despite the sea of blue hair, tattooed nipples, and platform shoes decorating the patrons.

Cassie ignored the dig and held her answer as the waiter served their drinks before discreetly absenting himself. Picking up her wineglass, she swirled it around. She owed James tickets to a Dodgers game, behind home plate. A recovering alcoholic, he produced some of the most realistic nonalcoholic wines in the region. Riesling was her code word for just such a drink.