Emerald Fire (A Blushing Death Novel Book 6)

by Suzanne M. Sabol

  Patrick smiled at the two older women he was charming but they weren’t listening. Instead, they were ogling my two men. Patrick was the exact opposite of Dean, comfortable in his navy Armani tuxedo, silk shirt, and skinny tie. He looked like he’d just come off a runway somewhere. The man wore sophistication like last year’s suit. The two women approved.

  Patrick caught my eye and smirked as his gaze raked down my body in an expression that could only be described as possessive.

  Dressed in a stiff, red taffeta gown, I shifted my weight, swishing the skirt across the floor as I sashayed through the crowd. The skirt was incredibly full with a high slit up my leg exposing a great deal of flesh as I walked. The bodice was form fitted to my body with a deep V down the front of my chest revealing a glimpse of the side of my breasts. Thick, heavy fabric pressed against my skin and held me in place as the thin spaghetti straps dug into my shoulder. My hair was up off my neck and twisted into a complicated knot, thanks to Jade, and held in place with two very long, thin, silver stakes. Appearing to be chopsticks, the weapons were just as deadly and sharp as any blade.

  I was still half a dance floor away when I felt the sting of icy power creep up my spine. Stopping in the middle of the crowd, I searched for the sneering face I knew was out there.

  Isidro peered down at me from the crowd on the upper level, behind the marble railing. I changed direction and climbed the center stairs to the American Modern level, maintaining eye contact with Isidro over every step I took.

  I strode up to him, leaving distance between us so he couldn’t reach out and grab me. I was, however, close enough to kick my stiletto into his chest and puncture his heart. I didn’t think it would kill him but it would hurt like hell and I was within striking distance. I made sure of that.

  “You do look scrumptious. Vulnerable. But scrumptious nonetheless,” he said with a pleased little grin turning up the corner of his mouth. Glancing down, he gave me a once-over from head to toe, making my hackles rise. I didn’t particularly approve of his appraisal.

  “Looks can be deceiving,” I said, exposing my leg through the slit in my gown. I ran my fingers up my thigh with a delicate caress that from the outside would look like an invitation. As I inched the blood-red fabric aside, I revealed the surprise hidden beneath the folds of the dress. Strapped into my garter around my thigh was a silver Bowie knife, clearly visible as was most of my leg.

  “Who would have thought a dangerous woman would be so appealing?” he said with a twinkle of amusement in his tone.

  “Someone smarter than you,” I snapped, flinging the heavy material of the gown back down over my leg. “I thought I told you to leave.”

  “You did,” he said, plucking a glass of champagne from a passing tray. “However, I have a little unfinished business, my little flower,” he cooed and my nerves grated against the false endearment. I didn’t have long to be uncomfortable, not alone anyway. Patrick’s anger filled me with reassurance as I felt him approach.

  “Ah, your protector has arrived,” Isidro said with what I could only interpret as disappointment.

  Patrick stepped up behind me, pressing his full lips against the curve of my neck where his mark—two translucent puncture wounds—were still barely visible. Sending shivers straight down to my groin, he slid his hand down my back in a light almost imperceptible touch across my bare skin. His power rushed over Isidro, a tidal wave of arctic sea water that no one saw coming. Isidro flinched but only a slight twitch of his left eye. I wasn’t even sure Patrick noticed the infinitesimal tell as his power washed over Isidro, but I noticed.

  “Isidro,” Patrick said with venom, his voice booming with disapproval at the Board Member’s slight. He hadn’t been invited and the intrusion was as good as giving Patrick the finger. Patrick was more cautious than angry but I was pissed off enough for the both of us. I usually was.

  “Patrick, I was just telling this precious little flower how lovely she is. Dahlia,” Isidro sang as he turned dark, Mediterranean eyes to me. “It is an unusual name, isn’t it? But it seems Patrick prefers woman with some delicacy to them and flowers are oh-so-delicate, aren’t they? Rose . . . Dahlia . . . Iris?”

  The Eithina in me wanted to smack that smirk off his smug face. I knew he was baiting us, I could feel it in my bones, hear it in his lilting tone and the way he brought up Iris. Patrick had been feeding from her regularly while I was gone. I didn’t know what happened between them and there was a part of me that never wanted to know. I shoved that thought away. That’s exactly what Isidro was digging for and I wanted to know why. So, I forced the Eithina back in her cage. There was plenty of blood to be spilled later. Isidro’s body was filled with it.

  “Be careful, Isidro,” Patrick snarled in warning.

  “Oh, I’m sorry,” he mocked. “Did I let a secret slip?”

  Patrick stiffened behind me, regret filling my insides like honey coating a jar.

  The mention of Iris’s name and the guilt filling me up made my blood boil. I clenched my teeth and forced my heart rate to calm. But his reaction to the mention of her name set my teeth on edge. A conversation for later when we weren’t knee deep in shit. And if our lives were any indication, we would never discuss it because we were always knee deep in shit.

  “Patrick has many needs, more than I can possibly fulfill,” I said, trying to disguise from Isidro the confusion, hurt, and anger I wouldn’t be able to hide from Patrick. His hand clutched at my waist, his fingers stroking against the stiff fabric attempting to soothe what was unspoken between us.

  “Patrick, if I had a woman who was so understanding of my indiscretions, I wouldn’t give her up either,” Isidro said, malice lighting his gaze.

  He knows.

  Isidro knew everything. What, I suspected, Iris had been to Patrick. The friction it had caused. This vampire knew too much.

  “There are no indiscretions,” Patrick snarled.

  “Patrick.” I whispered, trying to keep his anger under control. We couldn’t spill blood in public. In private, however, that was another matter.

  Patrick peered down at me, stricken as his confusion pulsed through him and me.

  “Ah, is our flower wilting just a bit?” Isidro belittled.

  “In deference to Alex,” Patrick stated, gripping my hand tightly in his.

  This was it. If Patrick drew the line in the sand now, there was no going back. We were in this war for keeps.

  “I will permit you to live this time but you will leave this city and my territory or—” Patrick bit out as Isidro turned on him with a matching snarl curling his lips.

  “Or what, Patrick? I’m a member of the Board. I can come and go as I please in any territory.” Isidro’s eyes blazed with anger. His fangs became evident as he spat his words out at us. “It is Konyam’s law.”

  Patrick smiled dangerously at the other vampire, a glint of excitement gleaming in his obsidian eyes that chilled my insides. He was perfectly calm, reminding me too much of myself before I killed.

  As I sank deeper into his quiet, I realized it was my peace he used, my quiet easing his tension. He glanced down at me with a flicker of intrigue in his gaze, understanding that we shared more than just the emotions. We had shared bits of ourselves.

  “Isidro, if you do not leave us in peace and exit my territory, I’ll feed every appendage you have to the Pack, one by one.” Patrick’s voice was calm and threatening, something I’d always managed without a thought. He manipulated my coldness now as if he’d been born to it.

  “All of the dangly bits?” I almost purred.

  “As you wish,” Patrick said, bowing his head slightly at my blood-thirsty request. Holding out his arm to me with pleasure in his eyes, he said, “Sweetheart.”

  I slipped my hand under his arm and sneered at Isidro. He’d already seen my monster but a rem
inder couldn’t hurt.

  We were halfway to Dean on the other side of the catering table when Patrick tugged me to him. “I thought you were frightening before,” he whispered. His dark eyes peering down at me with an emotion I couldn’t quite understand. “Seeing inside your head is more frightening than any beast I’ve ever seen,” he said, smirking at me.

  “Hey,” I blurted, accepting the small tease with a playful smile.

  “I will say only this. I am very glad you are mine.” He relaxed into me and brushed the swing of hair from my forehead. “Now, tell me what upset you.”

  I knew the mirth left my face and the stone cold killer was back in control as I met his gaze. My body stiffened and I brushed the knife on my thigh through the fabric of my gown on instinct. At the feel of hard metal beneath the stiff fabric, my heart slowed.

  “He knows too much about us. Things he shouldn’t know,” I whispered so only Patrick would hear me.

  “I should have noticed the level of detail in his intelligence,” he admitted, and I knew the admission had been hard for him. He’d been so concerned with Isidro hurting me that he’d missed something important.

  “I’m not surprised,” I said, wrapping my arms around his waist and hugging him close. “That was his goal, to get us all riled up and he did. I just have more practice compartmentalizing.”

  “You did a spectacular job of drawing him out,” Patrick said with a delicate peck of a kiss on the tip of my nose.

  We appeared to the world as if we were two people in love without a care in the world which was what he wanted everyone to see, not the scheming behind his eyes. For the time being, I wanted Isidro to think he could cause as much trouble as he wanted. At least, until I could find out what his goal was and how he’d gotten his information.

  “I think he means to turn us against each other. That’s why he brought up Iris. He probably takes me for the jealous type,” I said with a devious grin I could feel all the way down to my toes.

  “If he only knew,” Patrick said, a pleasure-filled smirk on his full lips. “However, you may be correct regarding his level of detail. If you are, this means we will need to be careful. Communicate more cautiously. I hate to say this but I’m beginning to agree with Dean.”

  “Trust only our own?” I finished for him.

  “I’m afraid so,” he agreed.

  “It’s more complicated than that, Patrick,” I said. “We have a mole.”

  Chapter 20

  “That dress is a little revealing, isn’t it?” a woman scoffed in disgust as she strolled in front of us.

  I glanced at her very matronly mother-of-the bride taupe gown and jacket and thrust my bare leg through the high slit, revealing a dangerous amount of thigh.

  “I think she looks delicious,” Patrick said in a deep, velvety voice that shot heat straight through me.

  Dean coughed into his fist to hide the laugh he couldn’t hold back at Patrick’s inside joke.

  Smiling, I ignored the woman as I brushed a light press of lips against Patrick’s mouth. My red lipstick left a soft tint to his skin, marking him as mine.

  The band stopped and the people dancing stopped as well, turning toward the stairs as the Mayor stepped center stage. He strode confidently across the dais, smiling and charming the crowd as he stepped up to the microphone. Tapping a fork on the edge of his wine glass, the mayor quieted the crowd as all eyes turned forward. The soft hum of laughter and conversation died down to a gentle roar.

  “Could I have everyone’s attention, please?” the Mayor called in a smooth-jazz voice over the PA system. “We are here to honor two of our city’s most generous benefactors, to celebrate their dedication and to ask for your assistance in reaching our goal. Mr. Patrick Cavanaugh has already donated so generously to our cause. With a donation of 10 million dollars, our city is in debt to his generosity.”

  The crowd erupted into applause. The man next to me choked on his drink and Dean patted him on the back to clear his throat.

  The short, stout woman of middle years on the man’s other side, however, stared at Patrick in awe. After a moment, she eyed us with something in her expression I couldn’t place.

  If Patrick hadn’t told me several hours ago about the donation, I think I would have been shocked too. But Patrick and I had had a very interesting and honest conversation about his finances, the books, and how his businesses ran. I was technically his Warda now so I should know all of it. Yeah, right! Some of it was bragging but some of it was so I could function if anything ever happened to him. He’d already been kidnapped once. We’re not fatalistic around here at all, just pragmatic.

  The Mayor raised his hands to calm the crowd. “The new wing of the Children’s hospital will be state of the art, thanks to Mr. Cavanaugh’s donation but we still need your help,” the Mayor said with a bright, winning smile. “I would also like to thank Mr. Trevelyan Dean for his generosity in contracting this project at cost.”

  The crowd broke into another round of applause as all eyes turned to Patrick and Dean. Two very different men. Patrick was calm, charming, and gracious under the scrutiny. His posture relaxed and became welcoming as he nodded and shook hands. Dean, on the other hand, was so tight with discomfort that his body was a solid rock of tension standing next to me. I ran my hand over his bicep and down his back in the hopes of loosening him up.

  “Maybe we can coax them both to come up here and say a few words.” The Mayor laughed as he met Dean’s narrowed and suspicious gaze. Evidently, the Mayor knew Dean better than I thought as the poor man’s teeth ground together in discomfort.

  Patrick was cool and confident with an alluring smile turning every feminine head in the place. Dean exuded power, drawing on his Alpha quality to get through it. They climbed the stairs to the stage in a single file line. Patrick leading the way and shook the Mayor’s hand. Dean followed. Patrick stood easily before the microphone, smirking at the crowd and then at me, exuding his vampiric charm over everyone. Dean stood several paces to Patrick’s left and a step behind, keeping me in his eye line while letting Patrick divert focus from himself.

  “Thank you all,” Patrick said, his tone was beguiling and sounded too much like a politician giving a speech than the man I knew. “We are here to support the pediatric Cancer unit.”

  Dean’s power and discomfort burned out over the crowd, a hard slap. It wasn’t quite as scorching as I knew his power could be but it was still intimidating and harsh. I glanced around at the cowering humans and the scowls on their faces. Sometimes, Dean didn’t understand the affect he had on people, not regular humans anyway. Standing with his left hand gripping his right hand in front of him, his hand was balled so tightly into a fist that the tanned skin on his knuckles was white. His shoulders were stiff, seeming so much broader and imposing than I knew they were.

  He met my eyes, and I smiled at him. Pointing to my cheeks like he was a kindergartner on the stage, I reminded him to relax and smile for the scared little humans.

  He smiled.

  It didn’t help. Appearing more like a sneer, his discomfort radiated out of him and drove the humans from the room and the werewolves to cower.

  The man beside me bristled. Desperate times called for desperate measures I suppose. I crossed my eyes and stuck my tongue out at Dean. Juvenile? Yes, but it was the only thing I could think of to get him to relax.

  “The . . .” Patrick said, pausing, and I uncrossed my eyes to see why. He stared at me with a question furrowing his brow. Turning, he glanced back over his shoulder at Dean who was grinning like an idiot, then shook his head, returning to his speech. “The project is still incomplete,” he continued, ignoring us. It was probably best. “Any and all contributions would be appreciated. Please join Mr. Dean and myself in welcoming in a new age of research by writing a very large check to support pediatric cancer resear
ch.” Patrick smiled, pushing his vampiric powers out into the crowd, touching each and every person with the allure of his magic.

  Men removed wallets from their jacket pockets and women plucked pens from their bags.

  The band struck up a sultry instrumental rendition of “It had to be you” as Patrick and Dean stepped from the stage. Couples flooded the dance floor and Patrick made a beeline across the crowded room to me, shaking hands and smiling to excited donors as he passed. He took my hand in his and led me out with the other couples. Spinning me into his arms, Patrick practically floated me across the floor in time with the music.

  “You are beautiful,” he whispered against my ear, his cheek pressed firm against mine.

  “There are much prettier women here tonight. People will wonder why both you and Dean are with me, instead of one of them. I’m surprised they haven’t questioned our relationship already.” I couldn’t help the insecurity that bubbled in the pit of my stomach. No matter how much I knew Isidro was attempting to drive a wedge between us, the mention of Iris still hurt. He’d obviously seen something in her that appealed to him. Something I wasn’t.

  “I want none of them. You are brave, commanding, a woman of discipline. To me you are one of a kind,” he purred. The cool mint of his breath caressed my cheek, sending shivers through me to my core and igniting my desire. “Not one of them compares to you.”

  I smiled up at him, with a devilish glint of anticipation quirking the corner of my mouth. I knew exactly what I wanted of him; of both of them. I was tired of the schedule, of having one or the other. I needed the heat of Dean’s dominance and the chill of Patrick’s smooth control. They were like a craving I couldn’t ignore any longer.