Strength & Power: Dark Paranormal Tattoo Taboo Romance (The Chronicles of Kerrigan Book 10)

by W. J. May

  He faltered a moment, before his face grew suddenly solemn. “Yes it is. I’ll have you know, I had this exact same talk when I was stationed with Julian in Spain.”

  Rae rolled her eyes and closed the bathroom door, collapsing back against it with a grin.

  Devon may be the Privy Council golden boy once again. He may be the man with all the answers, but he was struggling with this just as much as she was. And just like that, the path that lay ahead of her was suddenly clear.

  A competition to be professional for the next twenty-four hours? Well, game on! She’d be as freakin’ professional as they come.

  She stared at herself in the mirror. With that being said…what was a competition without a little friendly sabotage?

  * *

  After intentionally taking the quickest shower of her young life, Rae intentionally walked by Devon in a tiny towel and then disappeared into the bedroom, locking the door.

  Devon had agreed to sleep on the couch—in keeping up with their one-bedroom appearances—and Rae hadn’t argued. This was partially because the Savoy had the biggest, most extravagant-looking bed she’d ever laid eyes on, and partially because she needed some serious alone time to get ready for the party.

  With a picture of the dress from the magazine Julian had pointed out taped up against the mirror, she lifted her hands and let the magic begin…

  Just under an hour later, she slowly opened the door. Devon was sitting on a chair in the living room, reading a copy of the London Daily Telegraph. It lowered slowly in front of him as he stared out from over the top, his mouth falling open in unrestrained astonishment.

  The dress she’d selected looked more like a skyline at dusk than anything she’d ever seen worn on a mannequin. It hugged her bodice in a tight sweetheart top, before flaring out into a full skirt, shaded in every color of the summer sunset. Swirls of coppery orange, burnt rose, and deep magenta melted together into one stunning ensemble—a walking work of art that seemed to almost glow as she took a tentative step forward.

  “Well,” her voice shook a little, as she found herself suddenly nervous, “what do you think?”

  Devon’s blue eyes dilated hungrily as the newspaper balled up in his hand. “That’s keeping things professional?”

  Her pulse pounded in her ears, and she felt the sudden need to put on a jacket. Or a blanket. Or maybe even the super-convenient parka she had tragically left at home. Her brilliant strategy had backfired in a wave of nerves, and her cheeks flushed as she smoothed down the fabric. “Julian knew what kind of place this was, so he told me what to wear…” And probably saw this exact moment happening, the psychic bastard. “Just give me two seconds and I’ll change—”

  “No,” Devon said, a little quicker than was necessary. He caught himself and slowed things down with an easy smile. “You look…you look perfect.”

  She flashed him a shy smile, and he was quick to correct himself.

  “For the mission. You look perfect for the mission.”

  For whatever reason, instead of chafing at his clarification she found herself smiling. “I do, don’t I?” she teased, doing a little twirl. The feather-light fabric spun out in a graceful arch around her—creating their own little sunset, right there in the room.

  Devon sucked in quick breath and dropped his eyes deliberately to the floor. “That’s not fair,” he muttered quietly.

  “What was that?” she asked loudly, pretending not to have heard.

  He looked up with a grin. “Nothing. Come on, let’s get downstairs. There’s a five-star party going on, and somewhere inside it a billionaire is waiting to get a tracer put on his jacket.” He cleared his throat. “And I need a drink.”

  He opened the door and turned expectantly, but Rae was still standing right where he’d left her. When she caught his eye, she put her hands daintily on her hips, and dropped her head with a martyred sigh. “Devon Wardell, do I have to teach you everything there is to know about being a spy?”

  His face blanked, and he shook his head in confusion. “What—”

  “We’re supposed to be a couple, aren’t we…?” she asked patronizingly.

  For a second, neither of them moved. Then he realized what she was talking about and crossed the room to take her arm.

  “There you go, princess,” he rolled his eyes but smiled, “is that better?”

  She grinned victoriously and swung her purse towards the door. “Perfect! Let the undercover-mission-seeking-party begin!”

  Chapter 8

  It was a good thing that Rae wore a gown glowing with the vibrancy of seven suns, because if she hadn’t it’s likely she would have gotten lost in the crowd.

  As the elevator doors opened, she and Devon joined a flood of people in a twinkling sea of diamonds and brightly-colored chiffon pouring down a winding staircase to get to the ballroom. She held on tightly to his hand, wishing for the millionth time in less than a minute that she hadn’t worn such high heels. His tatù helped, lending her a balance that she otherwise lacked, but she still felt as though she was constantly teetering on the edge of disaster.

  Story of my life, she thought to herself as she gripped his hand tighter trying to navigate the stairs.

  Devon saw what she was doing, and tilted his head down to hers with a whisper he knew she would hear, “Hey, Rambo, ease up. Heightened strength, too, remember?”

  Her face soured, and she held on just as hard. “It’s not my fault. These things are a nightmare waiting to happen. I should never have listened to Julian. The dress, yes. The shoes… hell no!”

  He stifled a grin. “So why did you?”

  “Devon, please. You know how I like to be tall.”

  He rolled his eyes and pulled her suddenly into a side hallway, out of the tide of people, as soon as they reached the end of the staircase. She looked around in surprise, smoothing down her dress as he glanced quickly around for listening ears or cameras watching them.

  “So remember,” he murmured in a low voice, “Blaine and Meg Rosswell. We just got married three months ago, and honeymooned in France. If anyone asks what we’re doing in London, we’re here visiting your extended family before travelling back to Sussex.”

  Rae put her hands on her hips. She hissed quietly, “Devon, I did read the briefing book, you know.”

  “Jackman White is famous for dancing, drinking, and gambling. We’ll catch him doing any one of those things, and use the opportunity to put the tracer on his jacket. The second we have, we’ll head up to his office on the top floor to search for any communications between him and the Knights.”

  “Yeah…as I recall, that was on page four.”

  “We are to photograph only. Not remove the copies. Once we’re finished, it’s mission complete and back to base. Unless it’s too late, in which case we have the room for the night.”

  She threw up her hands. “Devon, seriously, I read the—”

  “Sometimes you just kind of skim through it,” he interrupted apologetically.

  Her mouth fell open in protest. “Devon—”

  “Sometimes you use it as a coloring book.”

  She stomped down a heel, growing more and more frustrated the wider he smiled. “Would you stop! That was one time! I’d read through it already, and if you recall we were stuck sitting in that office for forty minutes while the Deputy Missions Commander took a phone call.”

  He nodded, looking falsely grave. “And I’m pleased to say you used that time as wisely as you could.”

  Her eyes flicked down to his starched white shirt, and narrowed with sinister possibilities.

  He took a step back, lifting one hand protectively in front of it. “What?”

  “Oh nothing,” she smiled sweetly, “I’m just thinking of what else I can color on.”

  He took a giant step back and gestured to the staircase with a grin. “After you.” As she passed in front of him, he couldn’t help but add, “Careful with the heels.”

  “Bite me.” She smiled despite hers
elf.

  They made their way down the ornate hall and into the ballroom with no further discussion, but once there, even Mr. Reads-the-mission-book-from-cover-to-cover couldn’t fully mask his awe.

  “This is incredible,” he breathed, tilting his head up to peer at the spiraling murals on the vaulted ceiling. “I feel like I should be wearing a cape.”

  “Well, perhaps if you apologize for the heels comment, I can conjure you one later tonight.” Rae lifted a glass of champagne off a passing tray with a gracious smile, extending her little finger automatically as she took a delicate sip.

  Devon gave her a sideways grin, and just as graciously offered her his arm. “Shall we?”

  “Sweep me off my feet with your crazy dance moves, Blaine.”

  As it turned out, even considering the number of people swirling away in the center of the dance floor, it wasn’t hard to find Jackman White. For once thing, he easily dwarfed most of the people gathered around him—standing at what had to be close to seven feet tall—and if that wasn’t enough, both Devon and Rae could hear his booming laugh from halfway across the room.

  Rae lifted a hand to her ear with a wince. “And… switching out of your tatù now.”

  “Lucky,” Devon muttered as they wandered casually closer.

  White fit the stereotype of a billionaire playboy to a “T”. He was about ten years older than them, maybe twenty-eight or twenty-nine, surrounded by a host of some of the most beautiful women Rae had seen in her life. Each one of them wore a similar couture gown and matching vacant expressions. Only White’s roaring laughter cued them in as to when it was time to smile.

  Maybe that’s why he started doing it so loudly… “How exactly are we going to get close enough to put on a bug?” she asked quietly, eyeing the impenetrable crowd around him.

  Devon considered for a moment, his ocean blue eyes taking note of every innocuous detail, before he came to rest on the bevy of girls. The corners of his lips turned up in a small smile that Rae couldn’t quite understand, and he took her by the hand. “Come on,” he said, taking her champagne and putting it on a passing tray, “let’s dance. Again.”

  “Wait—what?”

  Before she could object, Devon swept her along to the center of the floor, twirling her with an effortlessness that seemed almost otherworldly. At first she held on for dear life, but after slipping back into his ink, she found the experience much more enjoyable.

  “So,” she gasped, spinning out in a wide circle before coming back to him, “what exactly is the point of this? I thought we were supposed to be zeroing in on Jackman.”

  Devon grinned and spun her around again. This time he pulled her all the way back into his chest, catching her at the last second and holding her tight against his body. She could feel his heart pounding beneath his tuxedo, and the warmth from his skin sent a shiver up her spine.

  “We are,” he laughed. She caught her breath and stared up into his twinkling eyes. “Trust me.”

  The song ended, and another began. Not a moment later, Rae felt a soft tap on her shoulder. She looked around in surprise to see Jackman White standing there, looking her over with a hungry expression in his eyes.

  “Excuse me,” he said with the hint of a Southern drawl, “I don’t mean to interrupt, but I couldn’t help but noticing that you, young man, are dancing with the most beautiful woman in the room.”

  Rae’s eyes flitted behind him to where his little harem stood sulking on the sidelines.

  Jackman intercepted her stare with a self-important smile. “I only mention this because I make it a point to do that myself.” He gave Devon a good-natured grin. “Looks like tonight I got beat.”

  Devon chuckled politely, and gripped Rae’s hand. “I believe you did.”

  “Allow me to introduce myself.” Jackman stuck his hand in between them, forcing Devon to let go. “My name’s Jackman White. Visiting London all the way from big ol’ Texas.”

  Devon shook firmly, whilst all the while Rae was completely ignored. That fits. This guy thinks girls are trophies and property. It’s no wonder he hasn’t done anything but leer and grin like an idiot since he came over.

  “Blaine Rosswell,” Devon answered confidently. “Pleased to meet you.”

  It happened so fast that even Rae, using Devon’s own tatù, almost missed it. The way his hand swept under Jackman’s arm, holding the tracer between two fingers. The way he pressed it so hard into the material, a moment later it had disappeared.

  This was his plan all along, she realized with a start. From the moment we started dancing.

  It wasn’t a bad idea, she had to admit. After all, if the mountain wouldn’t come to you, then… Her eyes narrowed as another key component clicked into place.

  She was the bait.

  Using every bit of strength from a particular clamp tatù she had, she squeezed his fingers to get his attention. “Honey, aren’t you going to introduce me?”

  He winced and gingerly extracted his hand, turning her towards Jackman with a pained smile. “My apologies. Mr. White—this is my wife, Meg.”

  “Your wife?” Jackman’s voice boomed out over the ballroom. Despite his obvious intentions he didn’t seem in the least bit put out by this information, but was rather intrigued. “You kids are a bit young to be getting married, aren’t you?”

  Devon’s eyes flashed, but the next second he was under control. “What can I say?” He pulled Rae discreetly back towards him and wrapped an arm around her waist. “When you know, you know.”

  White threw back his head and laughed, causing the people dancing around him to jump in alarm. “Isn’t that the truth! I’ve ‘known’ myself three or four times now, but I’m always on the lookout for the next Mrs. White.” He threw Rae a wink whilst nudging Devon with a grin.

  What could the Knights possibly want with him? What exactly does he think is going to happen tonight? That Devon’ll give him permission to bed his new wife?

  She had a feeling she wasn’t far off the mark with that one.

  “Mr. Rosswell,” he said jovially, pre-emptively taking Rae’s hand, “may I steal your wife away for a dance?”

  Rae didn’t need to hear it to know exactly what Devon was going to say next. He was going to refuse. Sure, he’d used her as bait to lure the guy over here, but he didn’t have any intention of letting things go further than that. In fact, she got the feeling that he was going to relish saying no.

  Except it really wasn’t up to him, now was it? He’d used her as bait. The least she could do was return the favor.

  “Mr. White,” she cut Devon off, stepping forward with a radiant smile, “I would love to.”

  Devon froze, not quite letting go. “Honey, are you sure—”

  “Would love to,” Rae repeated, flashing him a smirk as White swept her away across the floor.

  Jackman White may have all the money in the world, but dancing with him was nothing like dancing with Devon. There were far more near-misses and foot-stomps. Yet considering the man was the target of a Privy Council investigation, she didn’t have a bad time.

  He was all bravado and arrogance, sure. But he knew it. He also knew that she knew it. So in a way, it wasn’t hard at all to have a relatively normal conversation… minus the fact that she was using a fake name in a magically conjured ball gown, and was about to break into his private study. Not that Mr. White needed to know that.

  “So,” he squeezed her hand and brought her a step closer, “how do you like being married?”

  Her eyes flickered across the floor to where Devon was watching them with a clenched jaw. “It’s…not quite what I expected.”

  “Oh? How so?” He spun her around, narrowly missing another couple, though he remained completely oblivious.

  She righted herself with a quiet gasp. “Well—relationships are work, you know? Sometimes it’s not so easy to see where all the lines are supposed to be drawn.” She couldn’t believe she was attempting to have this conversation right now. Truth
be told, of all the people in her life right now with whom she could discuss Devon Wardell, this guy might actually be the most harmless. If nothing else, at least he wasn’t biased.

  He nodded effusively. “I completely agree. Just last week my girlfriend Kendra called me up, furious that she’d seen a tabloid cover of me kissing another woman.”

  Rae blinked in disbelief. On second thought, maybe not the greatest confidant.

  “I know!” he cried, misunderstanding her entirely. “Unless things have been expressly stated, how am I supposed to navigate the inner workings of her mind?”

  A wave of ‘sisterhood’ anger welled up in her chest, but Rae just bit her lip and looked down with a small smile. “Women.”

  “Indeed!” He squeezed her hand even tighter, steering her back the way they’d come as the song wound to a close. “But not you, eh?”

  She looked up in surprise to see him grinning down at her. Devon was already making his way towards them through the dispersing crowd, but White didn’t seem to care.

  “I’m sorry?”

  What exactly was he trying to imply?

  His eyes danced with another over-confident smile. “Oh no, I mean no disrespect. It’s just that you—and your husband as well, for that matter—don’t seem like a lot of the people I usually run into at these events. In fact, if you’re amenable, I was hoping to make a little proposition…”

  “A proposition…?” Rae took a step back and nearly melted with relief when she bumped into Devon, who had just reached them from across the room.

  He wound both arms around her waist and pulled her into him, with a casual yet incredibly pointed smile. “What did I miss?” he asked testily, looking Jackman up and down.

  Rae glanced over her shoulder with a strained smile. “Actually, Mr. White was just about to make some sort of—”

  “I was wondering if you and your wife would like to join me and a few of my friends up in my suite later this evening.”

  Both Rae and Devon froze with twin looks of confusion.