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I make my way back towards the ballroom, but I head to the bar like I’d told Giuliani I would. A slim woman leans casually against the bar top, talking with the clearly enraptured young bartender. She’s wearing a steel gray backless dress that turns transparent just under her ass, putting her shapely legs on full display. Her mahogany curls are pinned flat on one side, while the rest of the curls fall free around her shoulders.
With a sly grin, I join her, ordering a whiskey neat and a second drink for her. When the drinks are served, she takes the martini glass and raises it in thanks before sliding the olive off the toothpick with her lips.
“Does Kasar know what you’re wearing?” I ask, refusing to look towards the ballroom where the first notes of music are beginning.
Deidre snorts inelegantly, finishing the olive before replying. “He knows he gets to tear it off me later tonight,” she says before taking a sip of her martini. She keeps her voice low, eyes on me instead of the ballroom where our cohorts are doing their parts. “That bad, eh?” She gives my drink and white-knuckled grip a pointed look.
I knock half of it back, not giving a fuck about the rouse at the moment. I’m grateful for the familiar smooth burn, even if the alcohol does almost nothing for vampires.
“Yup,” I admit, knowing I can be free with the woman. She might be Kasar’s mate, but she’s someone who won’t judge anyone for their emotions.
“Bummer.”
I snort, but that’s Deidre for you. I finish the rest of my drink before finally letting myself look at the ballroom. Immediately, I find Cassandra in the crowd. She’s got a fake smile plastered on her face while Giuliani holds her too close for my comfort. She glances my way, and our eyes find each other for a heartbeat. Then he’s spinning her, stealing her away from me.
Except he isn’t, not really. Not when she is bound to me for eternity, our souls connected. Not when I can feel her love through that bond.
“Another one?” Deidre asks, pulling my attention away but my eyes don’t leave the dance floor. I nod and vaguely hear her hail the bartender.
Kasar and Malachi should be entering Giuliani’s office by now, accessing the blueprints for Aeternaphiel’s residence estate. When a flare of discomfort hits me, I narrow my eyes. Giuliani has pulled Cassandra flush against him and I snarl.
Deidre pushes the tall boy of whiskey into my hand and I toss it back in one go.
Malachi might have a point. We don’t necessarily need Alfonso Giuliani alive. If he doesn’t let my mate go soon, he might not survive the night.
Chapter Nine
CASSANDRA
We know that Aeternaphiel a.k.a. the Benevolent a.k.a. William Egress to most of Topside lives here.” Lan pulls up surveillance photos and what I vaguely understand as drone images. It’s a sprawling estate three hours northwest of here, tucked away off any main road, surrounded by dogwoods and white oaks. “Everything we’ve been able to uncover suggests Aeternaphiel’s soul is being protected here.”
I curl my lips between my teeth, uncertainty threatening to rear its ugly head. I can’t not think about the ticking clock counting down until Eris and I are completely drained away. I know Ashe is fighting the same war. At least I can shield him from the growing weakness within me. If he truly knew how quickly I feel I’m being siphoned away, my mate would do something drastic. I have to trust that we’re going to win. That we’re going to make it into this archangel’s fortress and destroy his soul. Even still, I refuse to spend what could be my final days spent in worry and fear.
“Malachi and Kasar will get the blueprints to the estate and anything else they can grab from Giuliani’s office while,” Lan points to me, “you do your best to flirt and secure a personal invitation. The archangel has to maintain a specific image, which means inviting a select few people to his estate every quarter to offer potential investments. It’s convenient he’s hosting one. Otherwise getting in would be a lot more difficult.”
“What do we do once we get in?” Ashe asks, his arms crossed as he stands at my side. He shows no signs of being tired, none of the vampires do, as they stand around the dining table that’s become our war-board. “He’s got security, and with so few people invited, we’ll have eyes on us at all times.”
Kasar’s the one who nods. “You and Cassandra need to slip away. Little witch, only use magic if absolutely necessary. This place won’t be like the Verdant Pavilion. Your disguise should be fine, but anything else?” He shakes his head before giving a pointed look between Ashe and me. “You’ll need to go back to basics until you get to the vault with the soul.”
Ambrose studies the images as he flips through the slides. He finally looks at Lan, his brows furrowing. “And the rumors about a creature bound to the room as another measure of security?”
Lan frowns, clearly frustrated that he doesn’t have an answer. “Rumors only. If it’s true, then Cassandra and Ashe are going to have to think on their feet.”
The room is quiet as all the Nightshade vampire males, Rhys included, are considering his words.
“I don’t like it,” Rhys announces at last. “I’m going in with them.”
“Rhys...”
The dogwood trees that fill the estate are bare of leaves and flowers as Ashe drives us along the winding asphalt private driveway to house. Rhys sprawls in the back of the Mercedes, one shoulder against the door and a leg stretched along the backseat. The guards weren’t too happy with Rhys’s presence, since access to the billionaire they know as William Egress is supposed to be limited. As always, though, Rhys put on the charm and with a few selfies, autographs, and a promise to leave tickets to his next concert in town had the guards waving us through.
As we drive further, the sprawling house known as the Haven appears.
It’s a massive antebellum-style mansion, with two sweeping colonnades along the front. There are two stories of windows, all lit with a warm glow from within. We pass beneath the colonnades and Ashe pulls to a stop, allowing a butler to open the door. The man’s professionalism is on display at the unexpected additional guest, and I’ve no doubt the guards called ahead to warn them.
Ashe hands the keys off to a uniformed carhop, giving the younger man a smirk that suggests a familiarity with the process. It’s strange to think of Ashe as a man of wealth, stature and power when while we met, he always downplayed his position in the Nightshades and often passed for a stable master. In Willow Creek, the other villagers had thought it odd that Ambrose maintained familiarity with his supposed staff. Now, Ashe carries the confidence of a powerful male sure of his position as easily as a falcon weaves through the air.
In the exact opposite of Rhy’s casual look of rugged, low-slung jeans and a dark long-sleeved top, Ashe is polished without looking stiff. He strides around the car with natural elegance, dressed in white linen pants and a sky-blue button-down that’s untucked and the sleeves pushed up past his elbows.
