Bound. Jen Colly

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СКАЧАТЬ shook his head and lowered his voice. “I can’t do this without you. I can’t protect her and the entire city.”

      Keir laughed. Nothing was beyond the capabilities of Captain Wolfe Rye. “You just don’t want to be locked to her side for that long.”

      Wolfe crossed his arms over his chest. “The woman has the temperament of a viper. I don’t know how you do it.”

      “Neither do I, but I know why I do it.”

      Arianne Talvane, Lady of Galbraith. To simply call her royalty was a vast understatement. She was everything. The only direct blood tie able to rule when her father died, she remained the sole heir to Galbraith. Without her, the city would fall to chaos and the aristocracy would fight for their right to rule. Which apparently, someone wanted.

      Wolfe scrubbed his hands over his whiskered cheeks. “I just want her safe.”

      Keir pulled a small slip of paper from his shirt pocket. He dangled the paper, trapped between two fingers, before the captain’s face.

      Wolfe snatched the paper, investigating each side. A single phone number, nothing more. “What’s this?”

      “If you need anything.” Keir nodded toward the paper. “Call that number.”

      Wolfe eyed him suspiciously. “Whose number is it?”

      “Exactly who you think,” Keir said with a smile.

      “No.” Wolfe glanced over his shoulder, making sure Arianne was still on the other side of the door. “I’m not calling her cousins. You have no idea what they’re capable of, what they’re like. Why do you think she’s never called them herself?”

      “Don’t know. Truth is, I’ve never met them in person.”

      “I want nothing to do with those two buffoons,” Wolfe said more adamantly.

      “They have no idea she’s in danger. Tell them what’s really happening here and they would protect her with their lives,” he said, certain of their loyalty.

      “At least tell me whose number this is.” Wolfe held up the paper and squeezed his eyes shut.

      “Christos.”

      “Thank God for that. He’s the sane one.” Wolfe tucked the number into his pocket.

      Keir bent forward, his elbows on his knees and his head bowed.

      Wolfe slapped him on the shoulder. “Don’t worry, you’ll come back. You’re like a damn cockroach.”

      He’d never left Arianne for more than a day. “Balinese is on the other side of Paris. So far away.”

      “The largest vampire city in all of Europe. The city of peace.” Sheer awe filled the captain’s voice.

      Vampires rarely strayed from their homes, and few had actually seen the legendary city. The lord of Balinese was said to be fair and just, accepting with open arms any who had broken the laws in other cities, so long as they did not break them in his city. Breaking a law in Balinese gave a whole new meaning to speedy trial.

      The task of relaying a message should be quick and easy. Hand the letter to the lord, exchange a few words, and then he should be on his way. Dodging the supposed demons might be more of a challenge.

      “I should head out,” he said as he stood.

      Wolfe held out his arm, locking his hand around Keir’s wrist. “Take care. I’ll see you in a few days, cockroach.”

      At the door, Keir turned back. “Keep her safe.”

      “Always.”

      Keir left, shut the door between him and the people who had become his family over the last decade. He didn’t doubt Wolfe’s drive to keep the lady breathing. Hell, no one loved Arianne more than the captain, not even him. He’d just needed to hear the promise in Wolfe’s words, for the simple fact that he couldn’t shake the uneasiness growing in his stomach.

      Standing frozen in the lady’s empty hallway, he scowled at the royal tapestry covering the far wall. He’d always hated that hideous image of twisting fat leaves and tiny birds, and hoped he would return to hate it again. Where demons walked, death followed. If those creatures ran loose in Paris or Balinese, he might not return whole, if at all. He needed to see someone before he left the city.

      Sliding easily back into Spirit, he traveled the short distance to Sterling, a cluster of homes on the highest level of the city belonging to the wealthiest noblemen. Wide hallways, bright white and pristine, had a surprisingly cozy feeling due to the gold-trimmed arches spanning wall to wall every twenty feet.

      He’d been here several times over the years, always in Spirit, his feet never touching the expensive carpet. The first time he’d ventured here, he’d followed an assassin into this rich community. The man had been a servant, trusted enough to live within the home of an aristocrat named Pax Legard. He’d watched Legard and others who lived in Sterling for years. All evidence suggested the assassin had struck completely of his own will, and as so many assassins had come and gone since then, he let his suspicions fall away from Legard and Sterling.

      Morley had been Legard’s servant, and that led Keir back to Sterling. When and if he returned from Balinese, he’d watch Legard closely. That, of course, meant keeping an eye on the rest of them. It was practically tradition for those who lived in Sterling to keep amongst themselves. Even the children seemed more a passel of allies than actual friends.

      The certainty of once again monitoring Sterling set him on edge, and not for the right reasons. He should be geared up to take head counts in the daytime, track individuals throughout the night, eavesdrop on conversations. Nope. He only wanted to see Cleo again, and that’s why he’d come here tonight.

      Stopping outside Legard’s double doors, he could just make out the buzz of conversation. With little effort, he slipped through the wall. At least three of the four major families were here. The women sat near the fireplace sipping tea. The men he couldn’t see, but their rumbling laughter came from another room. Legard’s son was older and would be among them.

      Keir stayed close to the door, that outer wall a necessity for a quick escape if needed. The spot gave him a perfect view of Cleo. She’d pinned her black hair up and away from her face, leaving long, sweeping curls to fall down her back and over her shoulders. Nose in her needlepoint, she feigned disinterest, easily fooling the other women, but he didn’t miss her uneasy glances over the embroidered cloth. Her wrist twisted gracefully as she pulled the thread through.

      “Oh, enough already,” Cleo’s mother whispered, plunking a blue and white teacup on the table beside her hard enough that the contents sloshed over the side and onto the saucer. “We’re not here to further your craft.”

      Paulette Skeffington joined in, never one to pass up the chance to ridicule another. Peering down her nose at Cleo, she lifted her aged brow. “She works on her sewing as if it would help her catch a husband.”

      Setting her teacup down, Jillaine Legard opened her mouth to speak, then stopped and adjusted the teacup a quarter turn clockwise. Picking up the teacup again, she said, “There’s nothing wrong with perfecting a skill.”

      Jillaine’s СКАЧАТЬ