by Michele Hauf
She nodded and sniffed away yet another tear.
He gestured beyond her. “Let’s go sit down and talk.”
Blyss hurried down the hallway and put the juice in the fridge, leaving the pastry bag on the counter. She wasn’t hungry. And if Stryke was, he could help himself. Taking him by the hand, she led him into the living room, capped by the skylights, which beamed in gorgeous bright daylight. It was too bright for her, and she had probably smeared her makeup when crying, but she resisted the urge to go check it.
It was now or never. She’d never gain his trust if she didn’t lay it all out in the open.
“Were you really crying because you thought I wouldn’t return?” He brushed his finger under her eye to wipe away a tear.
She nodded. “Men don’t usually come back to me. Not unless they want something.”
“I do want something. The truth. Because these bruises? Got them from some demon thugs.”
“I don’t understand.” She gently touched his cheek where the bruise was already green and fading. Werewolves healed quickly. “Why are demons after you?”
“They’re not after me.” He sat on the sofa and patted the seat beside him. “They wanted you. But when idiots are sent to do a job...”
Blyss sat on her knees beside him, tucking her skirt along her legs. Stryke reached for the simple diamond suspended from a platinum chain about her neck and tapped it. It was the only valuable piece of jewelry she still owned. Her father had given it to her after a winning streak so many years ago.
“It’s all about the black diamond, isn’t it?” he asked. “And Edamite Thrash.”
At the mention of that name, Blyss gasped. She bowed her head, catching her breath. It felt as if her heart had leaped into her throat and swallowing it back down was awkward. “Is that who gave you those bruises?”
“I was knocked out in your courtyard as I left earlier. I woke up in a fancy office building and was escorted into the demon’s lair. Thrash’s idiot henchmen had been charged to bring you to him. And the diamond.”
She nodded and drew in a breath of courage. “I was supposed to bring him Le Diabolique—that’s what the diamond is called—and my debts, both past and future, would be wiped clean. And since our gallery was exhibiting it, it was easy enough to steal. But getting it out of the building without causing suspicion was something else. Lorcan—you met my assistant—he doesn’t know, and I didn’t want him involved.”
“You needed to hand it off to an unsuspecting party for a clean getaway.”
She nodded.
“So our little tryst in the gallery office was a ploy to sneak the diamond into my pocket?”
“It started that way.”
It was never going to sound good, no matter how she put it. But truly? Something about Stryke Saint-Pierre begged her to let him know her truths. All of them, even the dark, ugly ones.
“You were a dupe I picked out from the crowd. And yet, I keep returning to you for a reason.”
“Because you were looking to reclaim the diamond.”
“That’s one reason.”
He crossed his arms over his chest and huffed. “Seems like the only reason to me.”
“I could have broken into your apartment and searched your closet. I didn’t need to spend more time with you. I certainly didn’t need to have sex with you again. And again. I—I wanted to.”
He chuckled softly, shaking his head. “Do not tell me you actually feel something for me. I won’t buy it.”
“I do.”
“Please. Miss Precise and Always In Control? Your whole life is planned down to the last detail like your perfect hair and impeccable makeup. I’m one of those details.”
“I know it won’t hold weight against my confession of using you, but, Stryke, there is something about you. I admire you. And I, well... Let’s say when I take a lover it’s for one purpose.”
“Which is?”
“Because I want something. Material items. Valuable jewels and gifts. I like to be spoiled. I’ve established a particular lifestyle that enjoys fine things. Sex is a means to getting what I want. But with you...” She dared to meet his brown eyes. “I don’t want anything.”
He met her gaze with a challenging glare that cut through her heart as if with a silver blade. “Except a large black diamond that glints red and which all the demons in Paris are hungry to get their hands on. Blyss, this is wild. I want to believe you, but this is really...” He sighed. “...fucked.”
“I used you to get the diamond out of the gallery. I’m not proud of that, but it was a necessary evil. But believe me, every time we’ve been together, I was using you for my heart.”
He scoffed.
“I like you, Stryke,” she rushed out. “Every chance I’ve been with you was a selfish grasp at something good.”
He rubbed his palms over his face. “I like you, too. Despite getting a feeling, that first night, that something weird was up after finding a big black diamond in my pocket.”
That he had kept that knowledge a secret when he’d found her snooping in the closet made him as devious as her. Almost. All right, not at all. He was trying to figure things out and had every right to do so.
“I told myself it was probably something Vail left in his pocket,” he continued. “But when I found you in the closet looking for the suit, I knew it had been you. That’s why I invited you to the wedding and put out the idea that Vail might be wearing the suit. And when I saw you with Vail...”
“I’m sorry. I was desperate. I need that stone.”
Stryke sighed and shook his head. “I don’t know what it is, but there’s something about you that keeps me coming back.”
“I feel the same way.”
“Then be honest with me, Blyss, and tell me what I really want to know. Avoiding talk about werewolves bothers me.”
“Stryke, I...can’t. Not right now.”
“Uh-huh. You’re asking a lot of me. But if I can shove that elephant in the room aside—which is going to be tough—right now, you need to tell me how you got involved with Edamite Thrash. And what, exactly, this diamond means to him and all the rest of the demons. When I told him demons crashed the wedding, and that I suspected it was over the diamond, he got real nervous. I don’t think the demons who showed at the wedding were his thugs.”
“You think demons that don’t work for Ed are the ones who crashed your aunt’s wedding?”
Blyss turned on the couch and tapped her lip with her finger as she thought about it. She’d only ever seen one or two henchmen, as Stryke named them, when she had to go to Edamite’s office for business. And none had ever come to her home.
They’d taken Stryke from the courtyard? Why hadn’t Ed waited for her to bring the diamond to him as they had agreed?
“Ed told me it holds a demon within,” she murmured.
“The diamond?”
“Yes. Some evil, powerful demon. I assumed he was going to release it. But that didn’t concern me. I just wanted to hand it over to him and...”
Stryke’s phone rang but he ignored it. “So if there’s some demon trapped inside the diamond, that might be reason for other demons to want it, as well. And maybe they wanted to get to it before Thrash could?”
“It’s possible. It’s a guess. I don’t know much about demons and what they do. Ed is like this kingpin sort of demon. He’s got a firm grasp on most of the demon activity in Paris. He also collects all sorts of paranormal ephemera. Dangerous stuff. He buys and sells it like a drug dealer.”
And she knew all too well how desperate a person could get for the drugs Edamite sold.
Again Stryke’s phone rang, and he checked the screen, but then directed his attention back at her. “How did you get involved with Thrash?”
A fourth and fifth ring sounded. “Would you please get that?”
Reluctantly, he answered. “Hello? It’s Rhys Hawkes,” he said to her.
She could hear the other side of the conversation because th
e volume was turned up high.
“Hi, Rhys. Wild wedding last night, eh?”
“Indeed.”
“I hope Johnny and Kam are okay?”
“They’re fine. Everyone is fine. Just a few scratches and a lost deposit on the building. I understand the woman you invited to the wedding may have had something to do with the demon attack?”
Stryke met her gaze. “I don’t know, man.” He ran a palm over his short-cropped hair. “Whatever was up last night, she’s an innocent. I know it.”
Blyss clasped his hand and he squeezed, then winked at her.
“As I’ve said, there was no harm done,” Rhys’s voice echoed out. “Normally, I would let it go. Keep a vigilant eye for demons in the future because you know, things happen. But not after what happened early this morning.”
“What’s that?” Stryke stood, wandering to the window that looked out over the vast sea of Haussmann rooftops.
“Hawkes Associates was robbed,” Rhys offered. Blyss had to tilt her head to hear it all. “I found the safe in my office open. The safe I use to store items until they can be placed in a permanent position in the warehouse.”
“What was taken?”
“Only one thing. Which is odd, considering the valuable jewels and coins I store for my clients. The silver scepter was stolen.”
“Wait. Didn’t I just accept a scepter from Tor for you?”
“The exact one. The one missing some stone or jewel in the top.”
Stryke turned to Blyss, raising an eyebrow. She shook her head, silently conveying her confusion. She was hearing only about half the conversation now.
“It’s a demon scepter,” Rhys offered. “So it makes me wonder if that’s what the demons were after last night at the wedding. But then I tell myself, no, they must believe I wouldn’t walk around with a scepter in hand. So are the two incidents related? I don’t know.”
“I’m talking to Blyss right now. Can I call you in a bit, Rhys?”
“Sure. I wanted to let you know what was stolen, see if you had any thoughts. It could be entirely random. I’ll have to mark it as a loss.”
“Right.”
“Though, if you had the time, it might not be a bad idea to try to track the scent trail. I can pick it up, but since you handled the scepter most...”
“That’s a good idea. I can come over right away. I’ll see you soon, Rhys. Thanks for letting me know about this.”
“Sure thing.”
“A scepter?” Blyss asked after Stryke had hung up. “I don’t understand.”
“It was a fancy silver thing. Like something a king holds when he sits on his throne. But it was missing the main piece. You know the top of the scepter is usually clasping a big jewel or probably—”
“Le Diabolique?”
Stryke nodded. “Did Edamite mention anything about a scepter?”
“No, but again, it wasn’t important to me to ask questions.”
His discerning look said so much, but Blyss wasn’t ready to tell him all. “Rhys wants me to come over and try to track it.”
“I’ll come along.”
Stryke lifted a hand, as if to stop her. He gazed into her eyes for so long, she felt his touch, and it was more gentle than she’d expected. Finally, he nodded. “Yeah. You know more than I do. I think it would be a good idea for you to come along. Two noses will serve better than one.”
* * *
Stryke picked up the trail from the massive safe where Rhys had temporarily stored the scepter. With Blyss at his side, they tracked outside, around the building and down a street for half a mile before he paused and had to focus on the scent of sulfur in order to determine if the trail turned left or right.
“What do you think?” he asked Blyss as he clasped her hand. Focus was required not to get lost in her gorgeous scent. “Left or right?”
“Don’t ask me.”
He turned to look into her eyes, seeing the glamorous socialite and not the werewolf he expected. She was decked out in a classy black dress and perfect makeup. The shoes were killer, but she’d said she could run faster than he could when he’d questioned whether she could keep up.
“Don’t you have the scent?” he asked. “I saw you lean over the storage box in the safe. It’s a distinct odor.”
She shook her head and brushed a curl of hair from her long lashes. “I’m just following you.”
“But I thought you were helping? Blyss, didn’t you pick up the scent in the office?”
She shook her head again.
Hadn’t she tried to focus on the scent? Or was she so distracted by the crazy goings-on lately that she couldn’t find that focus? So much about her baffled him. And there was yet much to learn. They hadn’t finished their conversation. She still held secrets. And he guessed those unspoken words were about her werewolf.
But right now, he wanted to stay on the scent. He had an opportunity to prove himself to Rhys Hawkes, and he wouldn’t let that go. Because he liked working for the man, and even if he did plan to leave Paris soon, he always did a job 100 percent. He had been the one to bring in the scepter; he felt responsible for its loss.
“Left,” he decided, picking up the scent.
Blyss’s heels clicked quickly behind him.
“We’re nearing the Pigalle,” she commented.
“Pig alley?”
“It’s the red-light district. At night it attracts tourists and prostitutes. The streets are lined with sex shops and assorted dives.”
“Sounds like my brother Trouble’s kind of place.” He clasped her hand and they crossed a double-wide street, pausing on the middle intersection to wait for the light. The air was scented with motor oil, some kind of summery flower that blossomed on the nearby trees, and human musk and salt. The faintest tendril of sulfur wavered in and out of his senses. “This way.”
“Oh my goddess.”
“What?” he asked. The scent lured him toward the black metal doors of a nightclub.
“This is Club l’Enfer. Are you sure you’ve been on the scent? This place is always occupied by demons. You could have picked up anything.”
“Let’s go inside and find out.” He pushed the door open to expose a black maw and the distant sound of drumbeats. “Ladies first.”
Blyss remained on the sidewalk. This was not her scene. She avoided contact with paranormals, and this club was all about the paranormals. Had she never gone to the wedding last night, would she have protected Stryke and his family from this problem? Probably.
“Too scary for you?” he asked with a challenge to his voice.
“This club is generally filled with demons and vampires. I’m not sure werewolves go in there. At least, not often. Maybe I should wait outside?”
He pulled her to him and held her against his body. It was the first time today that he’d taken a moment to hold her. And it felt wonderful. As if only they two existed in the world. And all the bad stuff that had crashed around her shoulders did not exist. He was still wearing last night’s shirt spattered with blood and his face was bruised. Yet when he kissed her, she sighed. It was a sweet, quick kiss, but it stole something from her.
And she wasn’t sure she wanted that something back.
“I’ll hold your hand. It’s day. I’m sure it’s not rowdy until later, eh?”
She nodded. He clasped her hand. “I won’t let anything hurt you.”
She wasn’t afraid of getting hurt. She’d already been hurt. What Blyss was afraid of was facing the truth that lurked within the darkness.
They strolled inside. Immediately a broad-shouldered bouncer stepped before them. Red eyes glowed as he looked over Stryke, sniffing and then nodding as if he approved. “But what is she?” The bouncer thumbed a thick digit at her.
“Werewolf,” Stryke said. “Promise.”
Casting a wary summation over her, the demon finally stepped aside and muttered, “Not much going on right now.”
They wandered into the din, which was no brighter than
the insides of a coffin, Blyss decided. The walls, floor and ceilings were black. The dance floor flashed like red flames set on a low burner. A few people swayed to some recorded heavy-metal music. A few of the dozens of tables held lonely souls before them. Caught in a daze as they stared into their drinks.
It could be any bar that catered to humans. Her kind. But Blyss didn’t do bars. Period. She hated the feeling of utter desolation that enveloped when wandering among the drunk and weary-eyed patrons.
A shiver traced her system. She clutched Stryke’s hand.
“You still have the scent?” she asked as he scanned across the balcony and over the empty stage.
“No, I’ve lost it. But whoever stole from the safe at Hawkes Associates came here. I can feel it. I wonder if we can get through that door over there. Might lead backstage.”
He walked around the dance floor and she dutifully followed. Every so often her shoes stuck to the sticky floor, and she winced. This was abhorrent, and it smelled awful. Not so much like demons but like smoke and sex and all the nasty body odors of creatures she’d rather not consider.
If she never recouped her losses, would she someday find herself in such a low and desolate place?
Before Stryke got to the back door, the bouncer once again stood before them. “What are you looking for, buddy?”
“Uh, was tracking a friend. I have his scent.” He tapped his nose. “I’m worried about him. Didn’t come home last night.”
“There’s no one back there. I think it’s time for you and your pet to leave.”
Blyss bristled at the term. The demon did not believe she was wolf and probably assumed she was Stryke’s human pet. Ugh. Well, that was as it should be if her world was moving along the trajectory she had planned for it. Not the pet part. Normally she wouldn’t be caught dead hanging around a werewolf.
But oh, she couldn’t step away from Stryke. Not now. He’d gotten under her carefully applied veneer. And she liked the feeling of him so close to her. Everything about the feeling was wrong. Unless she could make it right. And the only way to do that was to come completely clean to him.
“Let’s go.” She grabbed Stryke’s hand. “I need to tell you everything.”
