Stepping into the dark blue glow of the VIP section, his eyes went immediately to the shimmering galaxy of stars in the center of the packed space. The flashes of all kinds of cell phones were directed at the female he’d come to see, and goddamn him, she was as beautiful as always with that long blond hair and a shimmering dress he’d never seen her wear before. She was with her father, locked in a desperate embrace—
As sire and daughter eased back, she looked over to the far corner like she sensed her twin and him. Her shaken expression immediately perked up, and as she brushed tears from under her eyes, she started to come over. The crowd parted for her with expectation, like they were dying to see what the next heart-affirming-reconnection-after-tragedy was going to be, and Shuli fussed with his leather jacket, trying not to be obvious about passing both his hands through his hair—
As he caught a fresh whiff of spoiled sweet-and-sour sauce, he looked down at his palms.Fuck. He hadlesserblood in his hair, too.
With a quick snatch, he snagged a drink off a passing waiter’s tray and poured some of—oh, good, vodka and tonic. Perfect.
Be cool,he told himself as he swept the cold and limey into his ’do.Just tell her that you’re glad she’s okay.
God, if people only knew he was giving himself a pep talk right now. In their group, he was known as having stellar game with the ladies. Hell, especially when it came to vampire females, he didn’t even need a smooth tongue and all the right words. His money and his bloodline did all the talking for him.
Lyric was different, though. And always had been—
His heart skipped a couple of beats as she arrived in front of them—and oh, fuck, she was looking right at him. In slow motion, her arms raised, and on instinct, he stepped forward as the trippy techno music dissolved, along with all of the people, most of his pride, and at least three-quarters of his brains—
Rhamp’s shoulder bumped him out of the way as the guy caught his sister and held her off the ground.
“God, I really needed to see you,” she said to her twin.
“Like I wouldn’t come?” Rhamp’s voice was rough as sandpaper. “You were almost crushed by a conference. In your car-wash dress.”
Lyric glanced over her brother’s shoulder. “Oh, hey, Shuli,” she said with an offhand wave.
As the mob surrounded the pair, Shuli let himself get pushed back, and the next thing he knew he was all the way at the emergency exit. It was easy to hit the handle and open the thing. What was hard was the last look he took back into the VIP section.
Lyric was with her sire and her twin, and the three were a bubbly center around which an entire universe spun. Meanwhile, he was headed out into the cold—
Come on, what was he so bummed out about. After a near-death experience like that, of course she’d need to be with her immediates.Shuli, on the other hand, was just a friend, and she had loads of those. Sure, later they’d probably have a nice big, friendly friend-friend hug-it-out—but he was never going to be on her short list like her brother and her three fathers and hermahmen.
Nor should he be.
He was just a playboy who was useful in the war because he happened to be a good shot with a gun—and because he had a vein of rage he could tap into when he needed to. He was not, and had never been,hellrenmaterial.
Never would be, either.
Too bad Lyric reminded him of that, every time he saw her—
Behind him, the emergency exit opened. The exhale of perfume-scented warmth had a chaser of blue light, and as he measured the shadow his body threw on the dirty city snow, he thought about this secret that he’d kept to himself.
Shit, if Rhamp knew? After all these years of debauchery they’d shared?
Yeah, he was pretty sure it was practically a law of physics that you never,everfell in love with your wingman’s goddamn sister—
“Where thefuckis L.W.”
Shuli spun around. Okay, not Rhamp.
The Black Dagger Brother Qhuinn was filling the jambs of the exit, looking like he was prepared to throw hands.
And unlike earlier with the son, the father was not going to let the subject of the missing heir to the throne drop.
CHAPTER NINE
At the end of the night, after the meet and greet was over, and the crowd dispersed, and the Trash Panda owner and reps swept off in a limo, Lyric walked through the club, and regarded the place through fresh eyes.
Well, “fresh” was a stretch. Her peepers were way past whatever expiration date they were stamped with, each blink like she was in a sandstorm, her lids heavy as garage doors, her mascara flaking off and adding to the problem.
It was also a stretch for poor old Bathe. All the interior lights were on, the music was off, the rest of the patrons gone to wherever their last-call decisions had taken them.
