Masked Possession. Alana Delacroix

Чтение книги онлайн.

СКАЧАТЬ Eric and here she was, blithely planning the deaths of his boss’s masques. It must be hard. In the interest of effective collaboration, she’d try to be more understanding.

      “It’s covered.” She smiled reassuringly. “It’ll work.”

      No answer except for that same icy stare. Asshole. Her commitment to being sympathetic went out the window. The phone rang and broke some of the tension: Julien, now well enough to add a few more tasks to Caro’s lengthy to-do list.

      The day was intense, hectic and, Caro admitted as she sipped from her cold cup of coffee after Stephan and Asshat Tom left, one of the best she’d had in a while. Her sneakers lay abandoned under her desk and she leaned back in her chair with her feet propped up. The busy and challenging hours had flown past, and she hadn’t felt this pleasantly drained since she’d left the Post.

      The work also distracted her from thinking about the craziness that had been her morning at Eric’s house. She deliberately blanked out the sheer weirdness of being in someone’s mind. The arcane world was strange and odd things happened.

      Being with Eric, though. Not any masquerada, but the Hierarch. Go big or go home, Caro. Okay, they hadn’t had sex. Maybe they had. Did it count as sex? Her entire body lit up at the memory of his touch so it sure felt like something, even though it happened in someone else’s mind. She sighed. That must be a new definition of mindfuck.

      It had felt—right. More than right. She made a face and drank the rest of the coffee. She had to get a grip before she tricked herself into thinking that it meant something. After all, Eric Kelton was a lot of things. Arcana. Immortal, or close enough to it. A big-name masquerada. Scratch that—a masquerada king. A client. A man so far out of her league that he might as well be living on a different planet. She should treat this as one of those lovely random fantasies that occasionally sweeten the day and be vigilant about keeping it in not-actually-going-to-happen land, where it belonged. Nevertheless, her face burned as she lingered on the memory. Was he thinking about it as she was? He’d kissed her hand. What did it mean?

      “It means nothing. It was nothing,” she whispered. Stop acting like a teenager obsessing over your crush’s every word.

      “What’s nothing?” Estelle asked. The vampire stood at the door of Caro’s office, her pale skin set off by the dark red lipstick covering her bee-stung lips. Sleek black hair curled forward onto her cheeks.

      Caro forced herself to smile. “A problem I was figuring out. Turned out I was worrying for no reason.”

      “Oh. Do you want to come out for a drink? We can go to that little place around the corner. You look like you need a break.”

      It sounded good but night was coming. There was no way that she could risk it. “Can I get a rain check? I need to finish a few things.”

      Estelle shrugged. “Sure. For that Stephan guy? God, he was hot.”

      “Stephan?” Caro tried to remember him in detail. He was tall and muscular and she guessed he was good-looking. She hadn’t noticed.

      “Are you joking? Dude was like a male model. I didn’t know men like that actually existed in real life.”

      “I guess he’s attractive,” Caro said doubtfully. Maybe he was, but she hadn’t felt anything beyond appreciating that he was smart and didn’t treat her like she was a criminal. Compared to Eric’s bone-deep sexiness she’d only registered Stephan as a guy.

      Estelle rolled her eyes. “I seriously do not believe you. Well, tell me if you don’t want him.”

      “Stephan’s all yours, but he’s a masquerada. You don’t even know that’s what he looks like in real life. He also seems dedicated to his job.” Caro stretched and felt her vertebrae pop alarmingly.

      “Doesn’t matter what he looks like in real life, as long as he can look like that some of the time. It’s fun dating masquerada. You never get bored, you know? Always something new to try. That is, if they’re able to get over themselves. They can be snooty bastards.” Estelle pulled out a jeweled compact and pouted into the mirror. “I love this red.”

      “You’re like a parody of a vampire.”

      “I know.” Estelle looked delighted. “Hiding in plain sight. Who do you think started the goth trend anyway?”

      “No way.”

      “Zombie walks? Halloween? All arcana, girl.” The vampire winked, then pulled on her gigantic Prada sunglasses. “Anyway, don’t stay too late and set the alarm when you go. You’re the last one.”

      Caro waved goodbye and turned to her computer. Two more things to tie up and she was done for the day. As she began typing, the phone rang. She answered it without checking the caller ID.

      “Caro speaking.”

      “Caro, it’s Eric. Eric Kelton.”

      Her heart thumped hard, and she couldn’t speak.

      “This is Caro Yeats?”

      Pull it together. He’ll think you’re a nut. “Yes, sorry, you surprised me.”

      “Of course. I wanted to check in with you. To make sure everything was in place.” Eric’s voice was deep and rich and Caro realized her eyes were shut. In a moment, she was back in that dark room, stretched out with him, skin on skin. No, Caro, come on!

      “I’m finalizing some confirmations and we’re set,” she managed. “Stephan has all the details.”

      “I spoke with him. The work you’ve done is impressive. Julien is lucky to have you.”

      She tried to laugh naturally and was morbidly aware she probably sounded like a twit. “I’ll pass that on to him.”

      “I’ll do that myself.” There was a long pause. “There was something else I wanted to discuss, about this morning. What happened.”

      Caro picked up a pen and twirled it around her fingers. When she was a journalist, she had forced herself to develop an easy comfort with silence. People hated silence, and often would rush in to fill in the gap. She had gotten some of her best quotes that way. Now, the pause continued so long she wondered if he was still there, but decided to wait him out. Her mind’s eye pictured him the way she’d seen him as she left—shirtless, his smooth hard chest rippling with toned muscle and the blanket draped over his shoulders, begging to be pulled off. She felt the heat rise off her skin when she remembered how that body felt pressed against her, and in her.

      Finally he spoke. “The convergence. When you appeared in my mind.”

      She still didn’t speak.

      “Dammit, Caro, are you even there? This is hard enough.” He sounded both frustrated and amused.

      Caro gave in. “I’m listening.”

      “I’d like it to stay between us,” he said. “I should have mentioned it before you left. Not the actual convergence, although it’s important that stay confidential. I refer to the more, ah, private experience.”

      She bristled. “I didn’t broadcast it, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

СКАЧАТЬ