concealed…
And consequently, terrifying.
This guy had a lot of secrets, and he had built a lot of barriers to conceal them, and all those layers were embedded in those stones.
All that hidden… angst .
Looking down at the ground, Braden noticed a stray strand of blond hair settled on a rock—the guy must have shed it when he bent to make the citrines—and he made a mental note to pick it up and take it home before he left. He didn’t know exactly why, just that all that glittered wasn’t gold. All that was citrine wasn’t brilliant. And something about this male was not as it appeared.
He had given Grigori his word that he would keep his presence in the valley a secret—well, he had at least implied that he would—and he would allow the mysterious vampire to take his time, make his presence known in his own way, at his own pace, out of mutual respect for the house of Jadon. After all, a vampire’s word was his bond, and it wasn’t Braden’s place to judge another male.
Just the same, that didn’t mean he was going to dismiss his common sense. That he would ignore a creepy vibe, or overlook his intuition. He had done that once before, and it had almost cost Kristina her life.
No.
Never again.
Braden would play it off, hang out for a while longer, and then he would head back to the brownstone, and to Nachari Silivasi, a Master Wizard, with a single strand of blond hair in his pocket: a token object that the wizard could easily divine…unravel and dissect…
If necessary.
ten
Three days later
Trevor Rainier double-checked the address on his smartphone as he stared at the gorgeous urban building in front of him: 1590 Wynkoop, in lower downtown Denver, also known affectionately as LoDo. Yep, he had the right address, and didn’t that just speak volumes about Rebecca’s VOSU support group? The fact that it was held in the upscale Mercantile Square Lofts, in the private home of some upwardly mobile, metropolitan bimbo who didn’t know how to keep—or please—her man?
He chuckled inwardly, retrieving the keycard he had lifted from Rebecca’s nightstand drawer in order to get past the secured entry, and made his way to the fancy elevator, all the while, reaching down, deep, for courage. Assuming Rebecca had found another way to gain access to the building—and surely, she could just call upstairs—he was going to walk right into the center of the meeting, stare Rebecca in the eyes, and ask her if she’d missed him.
He couldn’t wait to see her expression.
And if anyone made a move he didn’t like, said something he didn’t want to hear, like I’m calling 911 , then the six-inch hunting knife tucked into his socks would probably do the trick.
Shut them up real quick.
For whatever reason, Rebecca had not been home since Sunday night, and God help the woman if she was sleeping with another man. But if he knew his Rebecca—and he did—then she would never miss something as important as a VOSU meeting, especially when she was the de facto leader.
Stepping out of the elevator onto the third floor, he quickly made his way down the long, narrow hall to the last loft on the right. Thankhis lucky stars, the door was propped open. Raising his chin and drawing back his shoulders, he marched right through the entrance, headed toward the professionally decorated living room in the center of the loft, and sauntered to the middle of the group, causing all the women in the circle to crane their necks and gasp.
His cocky grin quickly morphed into a blank, vacant stare, and then it curved into an angry scowl.
Where the hell was Rebecca?
There were five women sitting around the room, staring at him like he had pigeon poopon his face, and not a single one of them had curly golden hair or gorgeous topaz eyes.
“Can I help you?” A tall, skinny blonde stood up, her restless hands betraying her anxiety.
Trevor took an abrupt deep breath and flipped his demeanor on a dime.
And consequently, terrifying.
This guy had a lot of secrets, and he had built a lot of barriers to conceal them, and all those layers were embedded in those stones.
All that hidden… angst .
Looking down at the ground, Braden noticed a stray strand of blond hair settled on a rock—the guy must have shed it when he bent to make the citrines—and he made a mental note to pick it up and take it home before he left. He didn’t know exactly why, just that all that glittered wasn’t gold. All that was citrine wasn’t brilliant. And something about this male was not as it appeared.
He had given Grigori his word that he would keep his presence in the valley a secret—well, he had at least implied that he would—and he would allow the mysterious vampire to take his time, make his presence known in his own way, at his own pace, out of mutual respect for the house of Jadon. After all, a vampire’s word was his bond, and it wasn’t Braden’s place to judge another male.
Just the same, that didn’t mean he was going to dismiss his common sense. That he would ignore a creepy vibe, or overlook his intuition. He had done that once before, and it had almost cost Kristina her life.
No.
Never again.
Braden would play it off, hang out for a while longer, and then he would head back to the brownstone, and to Nachari Silivasi, a Master Wizard, with a single strand of blond hair in his pocket: a token object that the wizard could easily divine…unravel and dissect…
If necessary.
ten
Three days later
Trevor Rainier double-checked the address on his smartphone as he stared at the gorgeous urban building in front of him: 1590 Wynkoop, in lower downtown Denver, also known affectionately as LoDo. Yep, he had the right address, and didn’t that just speak volumes about Rebecca’s VOSU support group? The fact that it was held in the upscale Mercantile Square Lofts, in the private home of some upwardly mobile, metropolitan bimbo who didn’t know how to keep—or please—her man?
He chuckled inwardly, retrieving the keycard he had lifted from Rebecca’s nightstand drawer in order to get past the secured entry, and made his way to the fancy elevator, all the while, reaching down, deep, for courage. Assuming Rebecca had found another way to gain access to the building—and surely, she could just call upstairs—he was going to walk right into the center of the meeting, stare Rebecca in the eyes, and ask her if she’d missed him.
He couldn’t wait to see her expression.
And if anyone made a move he didn’t like, said something he didn’t want to hear, like I’m calling 911 , then the six-inch hunting knife tucked into his socks would probably do the trick.
Shut them up real quick.
For whatever reason, Rebecca had not been home since Sunday night, and God help the woman if she was sleeping with another man. But if he knew his Rebecca—and he did—then she would never miss something as important as a VOSU meeting, especially when she was the de facto leader.
Stepping out of the elevator onto the third floor, he quickly made his way down the long, narrow hall to the last loft on the right. Thankhis lucky stars, the door was propped open. Raising his chin and drawing back his shoulders, he marched right through the entrance, headed toward the professionally decorated living room in the center of the loft, and sauntered to the middle of the group, causing all the women in the circle to crane their necks and gasp.
His cocky grin quickly morphed into a blank, vacant stare, and then it curved into an angry scowl.
Where the hell was Rebecca?
There were five women sitting around the room, staring at him like he had pigeon poopon his face, and not a single one of them had curly golden hair or gorgeous topaz eyes.
“Can I help you?” A tall, skinny blonde stood up, her restless hands betraying her anxiety.
Trevor took an abrupt deep breath and flipped his demeanor on a dime.
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