She must not allow the beast reign.
There was no questioning Edamite’s generosity by letting her go a year without paying. She’d had no choice but to divert her funds. Her father, well... She hoped he had learned a lesson and would never gamble again. But Blyss knew better.
Her bank account was in the red, and her social life was faltering. While usually she relied upon extravagant gifts from her lovers to seed her finances, she had not received a gift in months.
And she’d been given a week to procure an item for Edamite. An item so valuable he would forgive her debt and cover her for the next year’s supply. An item that she had obtained and then placed in another person’s care to divert suspicion. An item she must claim today so she could clear up matters with Ed.
She exhaled heavily, watching her shoulders slump in the mirror. Quickly, she corrected, pushing her shoulders back and lifting her chin.
Never let them see you suffer.
She’d worked too hard to establish her position among the humans. Blyss Sauveterre, Parisian socialite and gallery owner. She’d even been photographed with celebrities and had once made the gossip page after a weekend fling with a Russian duke.
She adjusted the combs, brushes and makeup on the vanity table before her so they lay straight and evenly spaced. She liked neatness. She was so close to avoiding a complete life catastrophe and smoothing over that annoying bump in her road. Control was her only means to relax.
Yet now Stryke Saint-Pierre had strolled into her life.
Her reflection frowned. She had been attracted the moment she’d laid eyes on him walking the gallery floor. And the attraction had been like nothing she had ever felt for a man before. She’d wanted to feel his hands roaming her skin, his mouth tasting hers. And she’d gotten that.
She wanted it again.
No. He is just the diversion.
Right. Stick to the plan. She had to see him again today. In order to retrieve what she’d planted on him, she needed access to his personal things. She must get close to him without raising suspicion.
Seduction would be necessary. And while seduction should prove a simple task—a job, nothing more—Blyss knew once she again stood in Stryke’s arms, all bets would be off. She’d fall into his beautiful brown eyes and sexy smile and wish only for his masterful kiss. A kiss that had left her breathless in the gallery office.
A kiss she wanted to taste again.
Shaking her head furiously, she battled with the devil and angel hovering above each shoulder. She would never be an angel. She tried not to be so devilish. But this afternoon she must tempt and seduce. And win back her standing with her supplier.
Because if she did not, she must then face her beast. And that was something she could not bear.
* * *
Outfitted in hazmat gloves and a face mask, Rhys Hawkes had been waiting for the delivery in his office. Stryke had chuckled, but then asked when he would be issued his own safety equipment.
“Sorry,” Rhys said as he took the silver scepter from the cardboard box. “I knew it was silver, but the thought to warn you didn’t occur at the time. I’ll have the company car outfitted with some precautionary equipment.”
“Precautionary,” Stryke repeated as he followed Rhys into an open vault that stretched back about twenty feet and featured an aisle four feet wide. He strolled his gaze up and down the security boxes, each fronted by a digital entry pad. “What all is in these boxes?”
“Gold, silver, coins from ages past. Magical items. Demonic accoutrements. Personal possessions that hold such great power the owner fears keeping them too near. Everything you can imagine. This is the preliminary holding cell for items the owners intend to retrieve instead of having them stored long-term. As well, I keep items I’ve purchased in here—like this scepter—until a spot can be coded for them below. I’ve a marvelous warehouse underground this building. I’ll show it to you sometime.”
“Kind of Warehouse 13, eh?”
“Hmm?” Rhys punched in a code and pulled open a drawer. He hadn’t gotten the reference to the sci-fi show Stryke caught on replay every so often that featured a massive storage shed for items and devices of supernatural origin.
“So that wasn’t a very dangerous job,” Stryke commented. “You know I am capable if you’ve a particularly harrowing task.”
“Oh, indeed.” Rhys closed the drawer and tugged off his gloves. “You looking for some danger, Saint-Pierre?”
“Always.”
“Your father told me you’re the wise one of his children. Sort of the calm center amid a storm of fur and trouble.”
“Trouble being the key word in that statement. My brother definitely lives up to his name.”
“Malakai also tells me he’s encouraged you to start a pack?”
“Yes, Dad wants to retire. And we could use a more varied pack where I live. A mixture of families.”
“Always wise to integrate the pack with new blood. So you are married?”
“No, but I’m looking.”
“Heh. I’d introduce you to my granddaughters at the wedding—Trystan’s girls—but no. I don’t want you taking any from my family across the ocean.”
“Thanks. I do have my eye out while I’m in town.”
Rhys patted him on the back and led him back out to the office. “You enjoy the show last night?”
“It was interesting.” If not curious. And a boost to his ego. Until Blyss had shoved him out the door, and then his ego had fallen onto the concrete. “Met a gorgeous woman.”
“Ah? Werewolf?”
“No. Doubt I’ll find such luck so quickly.”
“You two have a date, then?”
“I think we’ve done the date, the first kiss, the— Let’s say it was sweet while it lasted.”
“Parisian women can be baffling. Such pretty baubles to admire, but try to nudge beneath the sparkle and learn them?” Rhys shook his head. “I am thankful for a long and loving relationship with my wife. Dating nowadays would stymie me. People don’t even talk anymore. They text. What is that about?”
Stryke offered him a shrug. He wasn’t much for texting. A long talk and hand-holding were more his style.
“But if you’re looking for a hookup in town,” Rhys continued, “talk to Johnny. He knows a lot of—”
“Vampires aren’t really my style. But thanks, Rhys. I’m going to head out. Unless you’ve more work for me?”
“Not at the moment, but I’m sure I will in a day or two. Thanks for helping out, Stryke. See you at the wedding this weekend.”
On the way home Stryke stopped for a crepe from a food stand across the cobbled street from Notre Dame. He’d been eyeing this stand every day since arrival. Worth the dive into unhealthy. Sickeningly sweet chocolate oozed out around thick slices of banana between the folded crepe.
Bananas were always healthy, right?
He consumed the crepe and wandered in through the lobby of the apartment building. Knocking on the door to the apartment his brother Blade was staying in, he waited, but no answer. Must still be out with the twins.
His parents were likely helping with the wedding stuff. And Kelyn had been serious about seeing the sights. The youngest Saint-Pierre brother had left the building this morning with a map in one hand and his iPod set to a city tour.
