by J. L. Madore
I swallowed and wiped my palms on my pants. "Absolutely nothing. But for the city you need to look more Urban Street and less Elven ranger." I handed him a pair of black DKNY jeans and a black cotton-T. He scrunched up his face like he'd sucked on a lemon. "Problem?"
"These breeches are . . . will they not chafe my, uh, skin?" He brushed the surface of his doeskin pants then looked at the jeans. He held them away from his body as if contact might infect him with some unwanted ailment.
I thought through his concern. Over the past weeks, I had seen him undress several times and it came to me. "Ahh, right you go commando." I glanced down his front. Even bewildered by the term, Galan nodded. It was common for him to miss the meaning of what Lexi or I said, though he generally caught the underlying context.
Chuckling, I ripped open a small plastic package from the bottom drawer and tossed him the contents. "Boxers. The male version of the underpants you've seen me wear."
His eyes closed for a moment and his mouth crept up to a smile. Biting his lip, he looked me over. "I remember. Black wisps barely enough to hide your most delicate parts."
I took a step back, my cheeks suddenly getting very warm. "Yes, well, put these on first and your delicate parts will be just fine." I gave him my back, drawing a deep breath.
"You need not be concerned with modesty. Elves are not bashful and you have seen my physique before." I rolled my eyes at the back wall and fought the urge to turn. I might have, if I had a little more Lexi in me. She wouldn't think twice. "Undressed in this private little room, mayhap you have an ulterior motive for wanting my clothing removed?"
A burst of nervous hysteria escaped before I knew what happened. I was so out of my depths here it was embarrassing. "You're not nearly as charming as you think you are, Highborne. Besides, we're in a hurry."
"Fair enough." His low, velvet voice was undoing all my careful self-restraint. "Would you like to look me over and tell me if you approve?"
I turned for the runway show and was startled by his closeness. He'd snuck directly behind me and caught me off balance. Gods, he smelled so good. I had to swallow before I spoke. "Wow. You, uh, clean up really well." He smiled at my reaction, apparently liking how he affected me. My hand reached toward his chest and ran down the front of his shirt. "This is too big on you. Let's showcase the landscape better."
I handed him a smaller size, then, in a move more forward than I'd ever been, gripped the hem of his shirt. I pulled it up and over his head, exposing the rows of corded muscle I loved. Bare-chested, he prowled closer. I stepped back. He grinned, resting one hand on the coat rail above my head as he sunk his fingers into my hair with the other.
I was trapped. He eyed me with the hungry focus of a jungle cat. "And what will you be wearing for our little adventure, neelan?" He raised a brow, our eyes locked in that touch my soul way we sometimes shared.
Dwinn. Motionless, I listened to that word replay in my mind, lost in the blue depths of his eyes. I licked my lips, wondering if his heightened hearing picked up my quickened pulse.
Galan's body pressed hot against my front, the stone of the wall cold against my back. Cupping my cheek, he leaned in, taking a slow, deep breath along the length of my neck. I stifled a groan as his nose brushed my jaw. Warm breath tickled my neck sending a shiver down my spine. He tilted his head, touching his lips to mine, very softly parting them.
My body ignited. I loved the way his heart hammered against my chest, the way he held me, gentle yet strained, as if I wasn't the only one fighting for control. I met his kiss and in a sultry rush as his tongue entered my mouth. He kissed me in the same frantic way he had before, his tongue dueling, possessing—
The diffused sounds of students in the halls flooded into the room.
It took a moment to figure out what was happening. As Galan turned toward the open door I caught the twisted grimace on Samuel's face and interpreted it as a wish for Galan's immediate and painful death.
Galan muttered something and began putting a shirt on when a crashing blow cracked him one across the jaw. Staggering, he caught himself against the stone wall and raised his fingers to the scarlet blood on his lip. Fists clenched, he lurched forward.
"No!" I forced myself between them. "Back the hell off, Samuel."
Galan's fury eased and slipped into something else. He looked almost amused, either by the depth of Samuel's hatred or by me as his champion, I wasn't sure which. With far too much calm he touched his bottom lip. His lack of reaction seemed to fuel Samuel's anger like an open flame, which only proved to amuse Galan all the more.
"Have we a problem, Samuel?" Galan drawled.
"Aye, you." Samuel said, pressing closer. "Ye've been a spear up my arse since the day ye stumbled into our lives. Do ye think it's proper, drapin' yourself over Jade, half-dressed, in the storage room? Ye've ken her what? Two weeks?"
"Excuse me?" I snapped. "If I remember correctly, you dumped me like yesterday's garbage and moved on to a slutty brunette. We are friends, Samuel, nothing more. I am not your property and I'm certainly not your bitch to heel when you whistle."
Samuel's eyes flared. "I never treated ye like one, Jade, and ye bloody well know it."
I inhaled and after a minute I nodded. "Fine let's drop it. Reign asked me to get Galan dressed for the Queens. Give us ten minutes to finish up in here and we'll be out of your way."
Samuel's expression chilled me through. He stormed out, the bang of the door echoing like a gunshot. I rubbed my hand over my eyes then threw a charcoal knit zip-up jacket and a mid-length trench at Galan. He caught it as it flew at his head but didn't say a word.
Shit. It wasn't Galan's fault that Samuel and I didn't work out, still— "Could you look a little less pleased? Believe it or not, Samuel was good to me and I don't find any of this funny."
"Apologies. I do not pretend to understand your attachment to him. However, it is not for me to judge." He trailed his finger along his bloody, swelling lip and took a slow step directly in front of me. "Jade, would you mind?"
I couldn't stop the idiotic grin. Rubbing my palms together I raised my hand. Allowing my affinity to touch his life again was . . . everything. Light as a feather, I dragged my fingertips across the split on his bottom lip. I jumped as brilliant white teeth nipped my finger and held it prisoner. Ever so lightly the tip of his tongue advanced to caress it.
I swallowed, focusing my affinity on our connection. The healing was calmer this time, richer. His passions were still overwhelming but there was something else. Something dark that was overshadowed last time. Something he didn't want me to sense.
Violent images struck me then, Galan accepting his father's anger and frustration to save his sister the same fate. He tried to block the thoughts, the pain—both emotional and physical—but I could feel the evidence in the tissue and bones beneath my fingers. He had protected his sister the only way he knew how and believed he failed her in the end.
He stared at me, his heart racing beneath my palm.
"Good as new." I swallowed and stepped back, offering him a smile. "Reign will be waiting. Would you like to come to my suite while I get ready?"
Twenty minutes later I had regained my composure and left my dressing closet. Galan was in my kitchen tipping back a second Guinness. "All set?" I asked.
Galan choked, sputtering beer over his hand and down the front of his t-shirt. After setting the bottle on the counter he grabbed the marble edge and coughed it out until he could straighten. I fought back giggles. His reaction went a long way in boosting my ego. "So much for smooth, Highborne."
"By the gods." His watering eyes were wide as saucers as they scanned me up and down.
I gave him a runway turn and let him take in the sight from all angles. I was sporting an army green camo-T, cropped to reveal the emerald gemstone I'd just replaced in my navel. My black and silver kilt brushed the tops of my thighs and rode low on my hips. Accessorizing with chunky black leather boots buckled up to my knees and a silver serpent spiraling around my
upper arm, and the look was complete. If I was reading him right, those jeans didn't leave a lot of space for lust. Good. That was just the reaction I was going for.
He drew long fingers through his hair, his ears deepening to scarlet. "Is this what females wear in the city? It is most . . . revealing, is it not? I would never allow Lia—"
"Then it's good thing I'm not your sister, right?" I raised a brow and adjusted the weight of my backpack. Swaying my hips, I headed for the door. "Okay, one foot in front of the other Highborne. Let's go."
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Stepping out of a full length, 18th-century mirror wasn't all that startling to me, but travelling by portal mirror twice in one morning left Galan unsteady. While Reign checked us in, Samuel slipped out the side door to the alley and Galan leaned heavily against a Gothic cabinet in the back room of the Reminiscence Antique store. Tucked just off Richmond Street in the downtown core of Toronto, the shop served as one of two Toronto gatehouses.
Enchanted by a gatekeeper years ago, it repelled Dark members of the realm, Scourge and all other would-be bad guys who might be passing by.
I dug into my backpack and tossed Galan a black Dobbs fedora. "Keep your ears tucked. Once we get where we're going you can take it off. Oh. I'm not sure if the Queens will be speaking Elvish or English. It depends on their mood."
"Very well." Galan nodded and pulled the brim in place. "Tham, Aust and I have been practicing. If I have difficulties with what is being said, I shall let you know."
I retied my backpack and let Galan take it when he held out his hand. "Do you remember what I told you about the greater Fae?"
Galan nodded. "Never thank them outright or they could hold me to a debt owed. Flatter their efforts in a way that expresses my thanks without actually saying it."
"Good. Don't forget. The Queens are nicer than most, still, you don't want to spend the rest of your very long life in servitude."
"And how do I know which members of the Fae to be wary of?"
I shrugged. "Magic is the biggest clue. Lesser Fae have minor magical ability. The more powerful the Fae, the warier you need to be. You'll feel the power of Greater Fae."
Samuel's all-clear whistle brought the three of us out the side door to join him in the familiar corridor between the Chinese produce market and the military surplus store. It was a dirty, rundown, nondescript area which blended in with every other side alley in the neighbourhood. And that was exactly why it was perfect.
I scanned the surroundings. Most of the second story windows facing the alley had been lost to vandalism long ago and were covered with chipboard. Others were opaque with grime deposited over years of neglect. Either way there were no vantage points for prying eyes to monitor the comings and goings of the alley.
Samuel and Reign led while Galan and I took up the rear.
Once on Richmond we headed up to Queen. People rushed across crowded streets, streetcars dinged, cars honked and the constant clack and shuffle of shoes tromping their way along the sidewalks added to the din. An urban symphony of chaos.
Galan's nostrils flared as we passed the silver cart-umbrella-combo and he breathed in the unmistakable scent of street meat. "Incredible."
"It is, isn't it?" My stomach rumbled and I made a mental note to grab a sausage on the way back.
"Where are they going in such a bustle?" Galan's gaze pivoted as we walked amongst the foot traffic of the sidewalk headed toward the crosswalk.
"Working, shopping, eating. Who knows?"
"Is it always like this?"
"Mostly." I skirted around a young mother pushing a stroller. She was giving my outfit an unflattering scan, yet seemed to find Galan's appealing enough. "It's busier during the work day and then again at night, but yep, it's always busy."
Galan smiled at a toddler chucking Cheerios out of the stroller and waited until they were out of earshot. "And the Gypsy Queens reside nearby? What domain do these women rule?"
"Well, I wouldn't exactly—"
"Wait and see," Samuel said, his daggered glares now holding unmistakable amusement.
I was glad he was over his tirade, but was getting worried about the Jekyll and Hyde routine. He was rubber-balling between the man I cared about and an angry Scottish arse.
After a few more minutes of Galan gawking we stopped.
"Here we are." Reign gestured to the facade of a three story, brick building. A grand marquee was lit above the main entrance while a dozen framed posters glowed with hundreds of little, white, globe lights. It was glitzy now, but much more impressive at night when the crowds were mulling around.
"The Diva's Den," Galan said, stepping beneath the dark, burgundy awning cantilevered over the sidewalk. He eyed the colorful posters of elaborately dressed women and I could tell he was trying to make sense of this strange new world. Little did he know how strange this world was about to get.
"After you, Elf." Samuel snickered as he opened the door.
"Reign, darrrrling." A husky voice greeted us as we stepped through the double glass doors into the dark foyer. "Where have you been keeping yourself? It's been ages."
Galan stared up at the six-foot-four brawny woman wearing vibrant, slime-green, vinyl. She was steady in fuschia high-heeled boots, rushing to greet us arms extended. He couldn't miss the light dusting of chest hair peeking out of the low V of her jumper and I followed his gaze as it traveled south, down to her enormous silver belt buckle.
"Cara," Reign said, accepting a kiss to each cheek. "I've been meaning to stop by to see the new show, but life gets away from me these days."
Cara pushed out her bottom lip and propped large hands on her hips. "Life, huh? Amanda said you don't love us anymore."
"Nonsense," he said. When he shook his head, his brindle hair swung against his jaw, the strands of gold and copper glinting under the track lights. "You know I adore you ladies."
She flipped her hair, though it didn't move and pushed out her bright pink lips.
"How could you doubt me, Cara? Haven't I always come when you call?"
After a long moment, she nodded. "Well yes. Okay, I'll forgive you if you promise to come to our gala next month. It's a theme night . . . Merry Queens and Scots. Can you guess who the Merry Queens are?"
"I wouldn't miss it." He winked and she swooned. Reign was an incorrigible flirt when it came to the Queens. Beyond their value as prophetic readers, he found them to be endlessly amusing. "I'll polish my Gillies and press my kilt, but only if you promise to save me a dance."
Ew . . . so not an image I need in my head.
"Now," he said, lifting his elbow for her to latch on to. "Where are your sisters?"
Cara ushered us down the dimly lit hallway, through the black corral doors and into the main nightclub. The stage lights were on and Cara's two 'sisters' were strutting across the glossy floor singing a duet. Their costumes and makeup screamed the same vibrant whimsy as Cara's, just on different parts of the color-wheel. Standing together, the three of them looked like a Skittles bag exploded. Cara was lime and these two were happy-face yellow and candy floss pink.
Mmm, taste the rainbow.
Our arrival brought an end to the rehearsal and the two on stage threw their arms open. "Oh, you're here!" They skittered to the edge of the stage and lowered themselves sideways down the four steps to the main floor. You'd think four-inch stiletto boots would make maneuvering difficult. It didn't seem to affect them in the slightest.
Drawn like magnets to Galan's side they pawed like cats with a new feathered toy.
Amanda stroked the definition of his chest through his T-shirt. "Ooh, isn't he yummy?"
"Like a freshly baked cookie," Clare sighed, before biting her lip. "If I nibble on you for a while, I bet you'd melt in my mouth."
"He makes my mouth water." Cara winked. Holding Reign's arm, she leaned back to scan Galan's butt. "And the gifts just keep on giving."
"Yes, he's stunning," Reign said. "Introductions first, ladies. Galanodel Caleblasse, t
his is Clare Vuoyant, Cara Zmatic and Amanda Playwith."
If Galan was unnerved by the attention it didn't show. He was as suave and charming as ever. "It is a true pleasure, ladies." He smiled my favorite smirk, the one where he raised one eyebrow and looked totally, sinfully hot.
Clare fanned herself, then pulled off Galan's hat and mussed his hair.
Samuel and I fought to keep straight faces and failed. Quaking with suppressed laughter he leaned close. "Do ye think he's into them? Ye know what they say about Elves."
"Stop." I smacked his arm, but laughed when I saw the sparkle in his eyes. "Behave."
Amanda put her hands under Galan's leather trench, slid them up and over his shoulders and let it drop to the stage.
Galan's glance shot to Reign who cleared his throat and stepped in. "As intriguing as it is catching up with you girls, we're curious as to the reason you requested to meet Galan."
"In good time, Reign." Clare laced her arm around Galan's waist, hooking her thumb into a belt loop. "Are you musical, Cookie?" she asked, moving him toward the stage.
Reign intercepted the two of them and positioned Galan to his side. "I must request we discuss why you asked us here, ladies?"
"Oh Reign, we're just getting to know—"
"I understand," Reign cooed, his voice sweet yet firm. "We can't loiter in this realm with Galan. You know how Castian disapproves of exposure risks."
The three ladies straightened.
"Yes, yes. I suppose we don't want to upset Castian." Amanda huffed, pushing her bottom lip out. "You need to get some grind, Reign. You are usually so much more fun."
"Behave," he said, then chuckled. "How about I send you three an invitation for Lexi's birthday party in February? There will be dancing and Hugh and his cubs will be there."
"Oh, how purrrfect. We loves us those lion-men. Sooo sexy." Pantomiming the locking of her lips, Amanda threw away the key. "Fine. I suppose we've dallied long enough. Let's retire to our palace of promiscuity where we can talk more privately."
Upstairs, the Queens' parlor was even more outrageous than their costumes, stage names and theatrical makeup put together. The walls were draped in fuchsia satin with large etchings of nude men in poses which made me blush. The heavy gilded frames hung on every wall, accented by electric blue velvet curtains, gold and sapphire area rugs and matching suits of armour wearing French-maid aprons on either side of the doorway.
