Entwined Realms Volume One(43)
“No, not me. Only male elves can pull that off.”
“So why are you here?”
His shrug was perfect nonchalance, the movement hiking the shirt from his waistband and giving a quick glance of muscled torso. “Blood banks are legal under the treaty between the Seven Houses. No reason why I shouldn’t be here.”
“No, no reason. Meeting anyone special?”
He smiled at her, a deep dimple appearing with the movement. “Why? You looking for a date? While I’m flattered, I tend to like the ladies a little darker-haired and darker-skinned. However, I might know the perfect guy for you.”
“You are sweet to be so concerned over my love life, but I’ve decided only to date guys who have bigger swords than me.”
“I can see how that limits your dating pool.”
Reign would send for them any minute, and Merc wouldn’t meet with his client, not now that he’d seen them. So when he reached again for his drink, Fallon placed her hand over the glass.
His fingers folded into a strike form, but there were no further signs of aggression as he took her in and awaited her next move. Fallon said, “I’m not interested in a fight. I want to give a friendly warning. You’ve always been under our watch, but you’ve never done anything stupid enough to warrant being placed on our shit list. I advise you not to change that habit now.”
His smile held the same level of friendliness as a shark’s. “Whatever could you mean?”
“I’ve heard things about a spellbook and an auction run by a certain facilitator. Ring any bells?”
“Not a one. But if I hear anything, I’m coming straight to you.”
He was good – impossible to read and giving nothing away. Such a waste he hadn’t joined them when he was invited. “Appreciate that. Think about what I said. I’d hate for us to end up on opposite sides.”
Merc grabbed his shot glass from the table. After saluting her, he brought it to his lips and drank the contents down, the strong column of his throat advertising the liquid’s path. “I find I’m a little tired. If you’ll excuse me.” With that, he left.
Wulver’s eyes were on her as Fallon made her way back. He gave a small shake of his head, indicating he didn’t want to talk about it yet. Yeah, probably best not to discuss their business around here.
Moments after Merc walked out of the club, a vampire walked through the crowd and toward their little group. While his necromantic energy was unmistakable, his eyes were not red. So not a true vampire, merely one of the serving boys.
One who had overestimated his power, the poor deluded bastard, because instead of stopping some distance away he came to stand right before the three of them. Holding out his hand, he said, “I need your sword.”
Laire snorted into her drink while Wulver’s chuckles sounded on Fallon’s other side. Smartasses. Fallon really didn’t want to deal with baby vamp right now. Going to see Reign was never an activity that put her in a happy mood, and if Reign was tempting her into a fight by sending some fool into her path, it was a ploy that had a good chance of working. “Everyone needs my sword sweet-cheeks, but I’m the only one who’s going to be holding it. Now run along, because I’m not supposed to fight anyone tonight.”
The vampire’s eyes narrowed. His lip curled, flashing a hint of fang. “You will give me your sword, or I will beat your insolence out of you.”
Laire laughed so hard she proceeded to fall off the chair. Through the slightly-screechy, slightly-snorty display, she managed to eke out, “He’s killing me here. Tell him to stop.”
The vampire was young and wanted to start a fight. Fallon was feeling charitable enough to give it to him, but if she started one, Kyo would scold Laire, and Laire would mope for a week, and all in all, it wasn’t worth it. Besides, she could turn this around and work it to her advantage, maybe get out of this damned meeting. “Tenro goes where I go. I’m either admitted to Reign with my sword, or I leave.”
Wulver’s low, “Don’t even think it, Fallon,” squashed that plan. Damn.
“Master Reign, human. Do not take such liberties with his name.”
Laire had calmed down from her laughing fit enough she could stand by her chair again. At the vamp’s words she piped up. “Trust us, junior. Reign wants nothing more than for her to take liberties with him.”
Before Fallon could smack Laire, a bald, dark-skinned man appeared behind the young vampire. Sleek and elegant, he was all smooth lines, from his expensive suit complete with tie and cufflinks to the well-trimmed mustache and goatee. He bowed. “Lady Fallon, please forgive your treatment. I am here to escort you to Master Reign.”