Raen

  Sitting in Thomas’s vex outside Alice’s apartment, Raen raked a hand through his hair and cursed the whole situation under his breath. He trusted his team with his life. He trusted Alice’s instincts even when they drove him to the brink of ulcers. He even trusted Lillian — on paper, anyway. What he didn’t trust was the idea of inviting a Supreme vampire into a casino full of innocent people and then baiting him into revealing secrets. Nor did he trust how easily he’d agreed to play Alice’s lover for the evening.

  He stared up at the lighted windows. In his mind he rehearsed a dozen ways the night could go wrong. He was still rearranging worst?case scenarios when the front door opened.

  Alice stepped out like an enchantment woven from moonlight and sea?foam. The long gown clung to her body before spilling around her ankles. A pale fur cape draped her shoulders. Her hair was swept up, exposing her neck. Jewels glittered at her throat and ears. Raen’s lungs forgot how to function. He shot out of the vex and nearly tripped over himself to open the door for her.

  “Arcaness Lamard… you look…” he started, then stopped. “We have to keep up appearances,” he said instead, and winced at how stiff he sounded. “Remember, tonight you and I are… involved.”

  She laughed softly. “And that means you need to call me by my name. No more ‘Arcaness.’ No more formalities.”

  He cleared his throat. “Right. Alice.” Her name felt strange on his tongue in this context. Almost illicit.

  She eyed his suit with a smile he couldn’t quite interpret. He hadn’t worn the black frock coat since his sister’s wedding. Now he felt like an impostor in his own clothes. He preferred leather boots and shirts that didn’t restrict his shoulders. The starched collar chafed his neck. He would rather fight a dozen drow than attend a high?society event on someone else’s turf. But when Alice slipped her arm through his, the tension eased.

  They rode in relative silence, each lost in their thoughts. At the White Orchid, they were greeted by a valet who whisked the vex away. Raen offered his hand as Alice stepped out. She took it, fingers squeezing once to steady him or herself — he couldn’t tell. They approached the crimson doors, presented the gilded invitation Stefan had conjured, and were admitted into a world drowning in gold and perfume.

  The air inside was thick with cigar smoke and the heady aroma of expensive alcohol. Men in tailored suits lounged at gaming tables alongside women whose jewelry glittered under candlelight. The clatter of chips, the shuffle of cards, and the occasional gasp of victory or defeat created a constant hum.

  “Welcome to the land of easy money and crushing disappointment,” Raen murmured, guiding Alice toward the bar. He caught Tyler’s eye. The shapeshifter nursed a coffee, his expression unreadable. He shook his head once. No trouble — yet.

  The Blaine brothers were already at a blackjack table. Thomas’s pile of chips was approaching architectural status. Andreas’s stack was pitiful. He scowled as his twin smirked, fangs flashing each time he scooped up another win. Good. Their act was working.

  Raen ordered drinks for himself and Alice and turned his attention toward the entrance. Minutes ticked by. Then the Supreme arrived.

  Alex Fogan was exactly as the arcanegraph had shown — tall, thin, almost gaunt. There was a predatory grace in the way he moved through the room. He took a place at a nearby poker table, conveniently adjacent to where the twins played and directly across from the bar. Perfect.

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  Fogan greeted the silver?haired gentleman beside him with a curt nod, tossed a bundle of coins onto the felt and received a heap of chips in return. He raised the stakes on the very first hand, earning a whistle from his neighbor. The dealer blinked impassively.

  Raen tapped his commulet under the counter, sending the agreed?upon signal. A short time later, the doors swung open again.

  For the briefest second, Raen’s heart lurched. Lisbeth Vemund walked into the casino as if she’d merely stepped out for an evening of fun and not, as reality insisted, died in her apartment days ago. Copper hair spilled over her bare shoulders, and a deep blue gown clung to her slight form. Jewels shimmered at her throat and ears.

  It was, of course, Lillian. But seeing Lisbeth’s likeness animate and breathe chilled Raen in a way all his training had not prepared him for.

  She paused at the threshold, scanning the room, then glided toward the poker table with an effortless grace that drew eyes. “Good evening,” she said, pitching her voice to match Lisbeth’s airy lilt. The elder gentleman nodded politely. Fogan’s eyes crawled upward from his cards, widened in astonishment.

  “Lisbeth?” he breathed. “I didn’t take you for a gambler.”

  Lillian shrugged, lips curved. “We all have vices, Alex.”

  He stood and pulled out a chair for her. She sat. A waitress approached; Fogan ordered a sixteen?year single malt and flipped her a pair of chips. Then he turned back to Lillian.

  “How’s life at Goldspire? How’s Master?Eider?”

  “The usual,” she replied, her smile never faltering. “Contracts, clients. Tonight I needed a little diversion.”

  “You surprise me,” Fogan chuckled. “Of all people, I didn’t expect you to have a taste for risk.”

  “And yet here I am. Oh, and speaking of business…” She lowered her voice conspiratorially. “I heard there might be some changes in our shipment schedule. Would you be free to discuss it tonight, after you finish here?”

  Fogan’s eyes gleamed. “I was planning to drop by the office this week, but if you’re here, why wait? I trust your judgement entirely. Dinner after the game?”

  “Only if I start at the roulette,” she teased. “Something’s calling to me.” She rose. “Don’t worry, Alex, I’ll find you.”

  He laughed and waved her off. “If you win big, the best sparkling wine in the house is on you.” His smile curved sharper. “Oh—wait. Guess that’s off the table now…”

  His gaze dropped, almost idly, toward her belly. Confusion, then something darker, passed over his face.

  “You… got rid of it?” Disbelief roughened his tone, edged with disgust. “I didn’t think you capable of such a thing.”

  Across the room, Tyler’s eyes flashed amber. The twins tensed. Alice’s breath caught. How could Fogan possibly know that Lisbeth was pregnant? Raen counted silently to ten. He adjusted the cuff of his coat, revealing for a moment a narrow strip of dark leather wrapped around his wrist. Etched into it was a sigil — an interlocking knot of silver lines …crafted to blunt the effects of enchanted steel and to repel certain predatory magics. He caught Alice glancing at it and said nothing, fastening the cuff again as if it had never been there

  Lillian did not flinch. She shifted her weight, met Fogan’s stare head-on, and let her pupils dilate until they swallowed the blue of her irises. When she spoke, her voice was a low, commanding purr laced with that subtle undertow—the kind that slid past defenses and whispered straight into the mind.

  “There is no child,” she said. “It’s none of your concern. Let me go.”

  Fogan’s fingers tightened on her wrist. His shadow slid across the table, blotting out the light around her hands, making the space between them feel smaller… tighter. His fangs were half-bared. For a heartbeat, the air seemed to thicken. The faint smell of ozone stirred, and the lantern nearest the wall flickered as if something unseen had brushed it. Fogan’s mouth curved, but his gaze never broke.

  “Let. Me. Go.” Lillian’s tone carried that velvet edge again—succubus magic coiled inside the syllables, sinking into him like a drug. “You will remain here and play. You will not touch me. You will not follow.”

  Power rolled off her words like heat. Fogan’s eyes glazed, the predatory gleam dimming to something pliant. His hand dropped. He sat back, gaze drifting to his cards. The gentleman beside him blinked, unsure whether to be scandalized or amused. The dealer resumed shuffling.

  Lillian exhaled and rose from her chair. Without looking back, she walked toward the exit.

  They lingered only long enough to keep up appearances before rising from the table. Tyler melted into the crowd; the Blaine twins drifted back to their act. Raen and Alice lingered a heartbeat longer, their glasses of cognac a flimsy mask over the charge still buzzing in the air.

  Alex Fogan sat at the table and stared at his cards with supreme concentration — as if the last five minutes had never happened.