Sliver of Silver (Blushing Death) (17 page)

I glared at him. “Maybe you should stop trusting people. That’s how you got into this mess in the first place,” I teased but I meant what I said.

He smirked at me. “You’re right.”

“I usually am.” I circled the desk and sat down in my chair. Dean followed me around and stood beside me. Taking one of the notepads lying on the desk next to my hand, he scribbled across the pages. When he was finished, he tossed the paper on the desk in front of me and dropped the pen.

“There’s everything you need. Access codes, account numbers, passwords, and logins. Hell, put your name on the accounts if you want. Change the codes and passwords. Do whatever you need to do, but get that information,” he ordered.

I nodded and took the pad.

He stalked to the door, grabbed the doorknob, and paused but didn’t look back. “You’re coming tonight?”

“I am.”

“Then I’ll see you later,” he said and opened the door. He was out of sight in a second. “Bye, Tamika. Keep up the good work,” he said, and I could hear the smile in his voice.

An emptiness and longing filled me that I didn’t understand. It was the same emptiness that followed his departures every time. His warm caress of power was gone and those olive-green eyes were no longer peering at me with longing.

I had a job to do. I didn’t have time to focus on the emotional bullshit flittering around me like bees in a swarm.

I glanced down at my watch. I had a little over six hours, maybe seven if I pushed it, before I had to get ready for the masquerade.

Maybe I could just have Jade bring my costume here, which would give me a good eight hours.
See, things were already looking up.

Chapter 18

Turns out I didn’t need eight hours. I didn’t even need six. Once I had access to the bank records, via Dean’s personal access codes, I had everything. I stopped by the bank and filled out the paperwork to put myself on the accounts and take Jackson off for good measure. It would irk Jackson to know I was responsible for cutting off his funding source. That thought made me all warm and fuzzy inside.

I’d taken everything home with me to cross reference with Jade’s information. I was up getting ready for the Masquerade when Jade screamed a giddy, girly squeal I would never have imagined could come out of her. I ran downstairs to NORAD in the basement in my robe and heavy makeup.

“What the hell was that?” I asked, sliding on the epoxy floor that Dean had insisted I have installed. It was slippery in my wet bare feet.

“I got the bastard,” she shrieked with a satisfied little smile tugging at the corners of her mouth up.

“Found what?” I asked, anticipation making my adrenaline skyrocket.

“Jackson was actually stupid enough to deposit one of those checks directly into his account,” she said, smiling at me.

I paced, tying my silk robe just a little tighter around my waist. I stopped and took a good long look at her. Kurt walked above us, his heavy feet thundering on the floor above. I peered back down at Jade’s searching gaze. She wasn’t going to like what I had to say.

“Look, Jade, I know you were looking forward to going to the Masquerade tonight,” I said, an apology in my tone. Her shoulders slumped, and she nodded in resignation. “I need you to figure out what he’s doing with that money. I need to know before the Manit tomorrow night. I don’t want to have to wait for another moon cycle to take care of this. He’s too dangerous to leave to chance.” I paused. “To be honest, I don’t want you anywhere near him,” I added, focusing my gaze on her. I hoped it was enough.

“I don’t, either,” Kurt said from behind me.

If she wouldn’t listen to me, maybe she would listen to him.

“Kurt, I need you to stay with her,” I said, not giving her a chance to object.

“Is that an order?” he asked with a small grin. The wolves I knew best were having too much fun with this Eithina bullshit, trying to prove a fucking point.

“Yes,” I snapped.

Jade glanced from Kurt to me with confusion furrowing her brow.

“Then I’ll call our Gaoh and let him know what our Eithina has decreed,” he said with a smirk. Grabbing his cell phone, Kurt headed up the stairs.

“What was that all about?” Jade asked as she arched an interested eyebrow at me. 

“I’ll let you know when I figure it out, myself,” I snapped and followed Kurt up the stairs. I had a costume to squeeze into.

Zipping up the boots along the back of my thigh, I folded over the leather covering the top of my knee. Fishnet hose wove a diamond pattern across my thighs, highlighting the muscularity of my legs. A black leotard cut high through the thigh, hugging my body and revealing a bit more of my pelvis than I was comfortable. I had long legs and the four-inch heels with the extension from the leotard gave my legs the appearance that they went on for miles.

Kurt helped me with the bright white corset, tugging the laces with werewolf strength until I had to beg him to stop and loosen some of the laces. I should have been ashamed or embarrassed that Kurt was lacing me into this contraption but I wasn’t. I had an overwhelming sense that he belonged to me. In my heart of hearts, I knew he’d do anything I asked of him. That knowledge scared me more than I wanted to admit. It also helped that he didn’t seem uncomfortable as he laced me up. We talked about the Yankees game and A-Rod’s hitting streak. Somehow, talking about sports nullified the fact he was lacing me into a corset. Go figure.

I strapped the first sheath around my forearm. Patrick had had a set specially made for me. It held six half-inch thick stakes, one for each arm. One set of stakes was iron for the Fae, sitting on my left arm and silver stakes for everything else on my right. I slipped a small can of mace into the top of my boot along the inside of my thigh and attached a leather bullwhip with iron spikes threaded in the fall like thorns to my hip. A present from Alex for the occasion.

Kurt stood back and handed me the deep, blood-red, satin tuxedo tailcoat. I slipped it on over the two sheathes on my forearms and checked my movement. The only thing that made it hard to move was the damned corset but it was doable. It would have to do but I looked good.

I’d wrapped my hair in a tight French twist, held in place with a lot of pins and a lot of hair spray. I placed the simple black lace eye mask over my eyes and pressed down, letting the adhesive do its job as the mask covered my face from hairline to hairline on either side of my eyes. Grabbing the black satin top hat, I felt the inside lining and made sure the iron throwing stars were securely inside. Iron throwing stars were harder to find but not nearly as expensive as the pure silver ones. I angled the top hat on my head and patted it once to secure it over my hair.

“Humph,” Kurt snorted behind me.

I turned and glared at him over my shoulder.

“What?” I twisted to catch a glimpse at my butt in the mirror.
Maybe I didn’t look as good as I thought I did? What was he looking at?

“I’d kill a man who looked at Jade in an outfit like that,” he said, giving me the weary eye of a man dating a beautiful woman. “I don’t want to know what they’ll do. I’m glad we won’t be there,” he huffed behind me and left. I shrugged my shoulders and studied my reflection.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. This Ring Master outfit is hot,” I said under my breath.

“That’s the problem,” he growled.

With still an hour and a half before full dark, I strode into Damsel knowing Patrick was already awake. I’d felt him wake in a rush of sickening, overwhelming anxiety and anticipation in my gut before he had a chance to shut down his shields between us.

Climbing the stairs to Patrick’s office, I knew he wasn’t alone. Dean’s warmth pushed against my skin as his power and Patrick’s mingled inside me, causing an icy-hot sensation that made me shiver.

I was still mad at Patrick. Now that I knew there wasn’t something wrong with me, other than the whole Fertiri thing. I could forgive him a little for trying to protect me. Not completely, but a little. His relief as I placed my hand on the doorknob filled my being with warmth. We weren’t okay by any stretch of the imagination but he and I both knew we would do what was necessary. That’s the frame of mind where I could understand his actions. I didn’t like it, but I could understand. I opened the door and stepped inside to silence, and wide eyes.

“What happened?” I asked.

The expressions staring back at me made me think someone was dead. My gut clenched and my fingers itched to grab my knife. The knife I’d left at home. I felt the heat in the room increase as Patrick’s eyes traveled from my feet, up my body, finally resting his hungry gaze on me. His luscious mouth turned up in a knowing smile. I darted my gaze from Patrick to Dean, whose nostrils flared as he closed his eyes. His hands were clenched tight at his sides.

“What’s wrong?” I asked again.

“Nothing,” Patrick said in a soft, seductive tone. “Nothing at all. We were just discussing strategy.” He circled the desk dressed in a billowy white shirt with lace cuffs and a matching lace collar. Black velvet pants clung to him like wet linen, tucked into midnight-blue knee-high leather boots with cuffs folded over, making the leather slouch down his calf. A deep blue velvet coat hung on the back of his desk chair behind him. The cuffs, sleeves, and hem of that coat were etched with gold embroidery like ivy growing across the fabric. The rich color suited his alabaster skin, dark hair, and the deep dark depths of his eyes. A brimmed black hat lay on the sofa next to me with a dark blue feather plume. I wondered which of the musketeers he was supposed to be.

Alex sat on the edge of Patrick’s desk in a black cat suit with silver thread spread out across her body like an intricate, damp spider web. Her petite frame was exquisite in the black and silver form-fitting fabric. Her hair was dyed jet black to match the cat suit, making her pale skin and light brown sugar eyes smolder against all that black. She sat on Patrick’s desk with her legs crossed in a yogi style. 

“Oh?” I perched on the arm of the black velvet couch along the wall of Patrick’s refurbished office and crossed my legs.

He’d had to get new furniture and replace the glass bottom boat floor when Midnight Ash had crashed through the ceiling. She’d destroyed his office and most of the club that night. It was almost exactly the same except for the desk. He couldn’t find a replacement for the art deco masterpiece or the sidebar that had been destroyed, so he’d redesigned. The office was all right angles and stainless steel. His desk was a glass-top surface with stainless steel legs and a black leather chair. It was sterile and utilitarian. The only comfortable and welcoming things in the office were the oversized black velvet couches along the walls.

“We think it would be a beneficial to keep your identity a secret from the Fae, at least at first. There’s no point in showing all our cards at once,” Patrick said with a devious twinkle in those dark eyes. His gaze focused on the bulge of the soft white flesh of my breasts the corset forced up into view. I felt the heat in my groin as his eyes caught mine.

God he was sexy; even a little more so in that ridiculously exquisite outfit.

My pulse throbbed in my throat, pounding against the spot on my neck where he’d marked me.

“Okay, but don’t you think that they’ll notice the only human in the group?” I uncrossed and crossed my legs to hide the scent of arousal I knew was now permeating through the room.

“You don’t smell human anymore,” Dean said, opening his eyes, revealing his clear crystal Caribbean blue gaze.

Patrick turned his attention to Dean, a grim expression darkening his already intense expression.

“Your scent will be well hidden in the throng of people at the Masquerade and among us. They’ll be none the wiser,” Patrick said, turning his attention back to me.

“I think it’s a good plan,” Alex offered. “I suspect we won’t be able to keep her from them for long but it’ll be interesting to see if they can pick her out and how quickly.” It was now not only a test of our power but a test of theirs.

“What do you mean I don’t smell human anymore?” I asked, horrified.

Dean’s nostrils flared and he opened his eyes again with his hands clenched at his sides in tight fists. His shoulders were stiff and full of tension.

“I noticed it this afternoon. It’s a mixture of vampire, wolf, and human. It’s sweet, intoxicating, addicting, even,” Dean said with a soft growl. He sat on one of the black velvet couches across the room surrounded by Jackson, who was staring me down as if he could melt me with his eyes. On the other side of Dean, Niyati stood at attention.

Niyati originally from Denver, had been dating Alex for a while, longer than either would admit. Niyati’s parents were from New Delhi. Her skin was the color of dark roasted chestnuts. She was tall and model thin with hips that moved in ways I had never seen a woman move, all sultry seductiveness and easy grace. Her eyes were hard, giving nothing away of herself.

Dean, Jackson and Niyati were dressed in plain white T-shirts and jeans. Niyati stood at attention and regarded me with a question in her eyes while Jackson glared daggers at me in an easy casual stance.

“See,” Patrick said, approaching me. He tugged me to my feet and in my heels I could stare straight into his eyes. The possession in those eyes and the hungry tone in his voice was filled with testosterone, rumbling deep in his chest. “
You
will be just fine,” he said. His antagonistic tone wasn’t for me. Glancing over Patrick’s shoulder, I realized his antagonistic tone was for Dean.

Patrick pressed his lips against mine in a gentle kiss that was too chaste but filled with suppressed sensuality causing heat to pool low in my body. I ran my fingers up through his thick coarse hair and he clutched me to him, hard, crushing his lips down on mine in a ferocious kiss, filled with passion and need. Under the desire, I tasted a hint of something else. Regret? Release? Resignation? It was all of that and something else I couldn’t identify.

Patrick broke the kiss as fiercely as he’d begun it, tearing his lips from mine. His hands cupped my face as he peered into my eyes with naked desire flashing in their depths.

I suddenly didn’t care that I was mad at him. Swallowing hard to control myself and keep my hands above his clothing, I raised my chin. He released me, backing up the few steps to the desk, having appropriately marked his territory.

Patrick circled back around his desk but I felt everyone’s eyes on me and the rumble of growls coming from Niyati and Dean. I fought not to squirm.

Dean’s gaze bore into me as if he wanted to see what my insides looked like. His nostrils flared and the beginnings of a snarl curled his upper lip. I swallowed hard, not knowing what to do with the naked aggression lingering in his Caribbean blue eyes

“So,” I said, swallowing, “what are you three supposed to be?” I couldn’t look away. Dean’s gaze was filled with tension, aggression, and desire. I already burned from the inside out with want. I was afraid of what giving in to both of them would do to me. The word
consumed
came to mind.

“Goons,” Niyati said in her husky, soft, sensuality.

I stared at her with a smile then glanced at Dean as Niyati turned. His eyes were closed and his chest heaved as he took deep breath after deep breath.

“Dean thought this was the easiest costume,” she said, straightening the shirt over her back. In big black letters was
Goon #3
.

I cracked a smile and stifled a laugh.

“Cute,” I said. “Are you Goon #1?” I asked Dean.

He stood slowly, taking his time to get to his full height of six feet three inches. Each muscle moved and flexed beneath his tight white shirt. Turning, he showed me the
Goon #2
just above his perfectly round ass.

“Don’t wanna put a target on my back,” he said over his shoulder with a quick nod toward Jackson.