Page 12 of Bent Out of Shade
My partner nodded. “Amen, sister.”
“Vincenzo awaits you in the gazebo on the far left,” she said.
Emmett gave an annoyed huff because I was still gaping at him. “Newbies. Come along, Miriam. Don’t keep our client waiting.”
I followed hot on his heels. “Disrespect me like that again and I’ll have Jude turn you into a paperweight.”
He shrugged it off with “Then dress better,” walked into the gazebo we’d been directed to, and stiffened. I thought it was from my sweet burn, but when I rammed into his back and he didn’t move an inch, I inwardly groaned. Great. Hit with magic before we’d even spoken. This meeting was going to go swimmingly.
A handsome thirtysomething man with bronze skin and tawny hair awaited us. His simple white linen shirt and slacks displayed the strong line of his shoulders and well-muscled thighs without being showy.
“Are you Mr. BatXoha?” Was it better if magic man was our vampire client or just another minion to get past? So hard to decide.
“Sí. Call me Vincenzo.” His white, even teeth flashed against his skin when he smiled, free of any hint of fangs. “Tatiana did not mention anyone else would be at this meeting,” he said with a light Spanish accent.
“Bringing a partner is standard procedure,” I said.
The vampire raised an eyebrow. “Is it?”
A compulsion nipped at my brain with sharp teeth. I winced but was able to withstand the directive to blurt all my secrets out and give this vampire the keys to my vulnerabilities.
“It is,” I said, glancing at said backup to see if the compulsion had affected him. Last time that happened, it hadn’t gone well for either of us.
Emmett remained totally still. He appeared to be powered down, the light in his eyes dimmed.
I rested my hand on the golem’s shoulder and prayed it looked casual. “Did you kill him?”
“That would be inhospitable,” BatXoha said.
An inch and a half to our left was a shadow that would get Emmett and me back to the KH. I tightened my grip, ready to shove us to safety if necessary. This was a ridiculous amount of fuckery for the first fifteen seconds of a meeting where the client should have been trying to impress us, not piss us off. Poor Emmett.
“Please unfreeze him.”
Vincenzo trailed a finger almost absently along his throat and I swallowed. “We will speak while your partner waits here.” He extended a hand to a seat. “No harm will come to him and he will leave in good health.”
At my hesitation, the vamp’s eyebrows rose.
I had to follow him. That much was clear. But two could play games on multiple levels, so I walked toward the chairs, sucking in a sharp breath when I “accidentally” brushed against him. He generated body heat. A tan could be faked, even some other details of being human could be replicated by your garden variety bloodsucker. But to actually generate heat when you were undead?
Who was this guy, and how powerful did he have to be to do that?
Unlike the other gazebos, which contained L-shaped cushioned benches and were strung with fairy lights and flickering candles in glass holders, this one had two white rattan chairs angled to make the most of the ocean view. The enchanting vista aside, this gazebo was designed for meetings, not socializing.
I settled myself into a chair and thought it out. It had to be part of his Ohrist powers. Their magic was rooted in the ability to manipulate light and life energy. If Vincenzo could reduce someone’s life energy to the point where they were frozen and dead-looking (Exhibit A: Emmett), then he could probably do the opposite and enhance his own appearance despite being a vampire (Exhibit B: himself).
My nails tapped out a nervous rhythm on the chair’s armrest, and I willed myself to stop it. It would be lovely to swing my feet up onto the scuffed white railing, lulled by the motion of the waves and the sensual salsa music, but I sat too stiffly to even enjoy the plush padding.
What would happen to me if I didn’t complete his assignment? Or worse, what if I had to refuse it altogether?
I glanced at Emmett and I shuddered.
Vincenzo regarded me frankly, leaning forward with his elbows draped on his thighs, prisms of white light from a small chandelier overhead washing over his almost-pretty features. He tapped the toe of a burgundy sharkskin shoe while I tried not to fidget, but the hairs on the back of my neck stood up under his scrutiny.
What was I being judged on? Age? Appearance? My outfit that projected law firm confidence in a law firm was laughable on this beach. I couldn’t even curse Tatiana for setting me up, because it was entirely possible she hadn’t known about the club either.
Vincenzo was still evaluating me with that cool and even stare. I smoothed out my extremely out of place suit and formed a list of all my credentials. I was damn good at this job, despite whatever he may have to say about my wardrobe.
But then he spoke, and it wasn’t a snide comment or a dismissal.
“My fiancée is missing.”
