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Shaw and Roark were dressed in their usual black with their collars buttoned tightly, tattoos static on their necks and knuckles. Shaw had slicked his copper hair back, making it look darker than normal, and Roark’s silver hair was swept hard to one side, showcasing a freshly shaved design on the other. He nodded hello, his tongue fiddling with his lip ring. Shaw, however, let out a low whistle when he saw us.
Ciara preened, but I just rolled my eyes.
“Finally. You two are late. They’ll be…” Lachlan trailed off as he finally turned. His eyes raked up my body, loitering shamelessly when they reached my hips, my breasts, my neck, like a winner assessing his prize. When his gaze at last found my own, the intensity stole my breath—straight up sucked the air from my lungs as if he’d won that, too, and would settle for nothing less than every piece of me.
Roark groaned. “Why do I suddenly feel like I need a cigarette and a nap?”
Lachlan ripped his eyes from mine, offering his penumbra the finger before strolling toward us. My focus dropped to the floor as I breathed deeply, but it wasn’t only my lungs on fire. Ciara elbowed me in the ribs, but I ignored her. So far, she hadn’t been nearly as obnoxious as Roark about teasing us about our bargain. Roark seemed to get a special thrill at poking Lachlan over it, but I wondered how long it would be until Shaw or Ciara caved and joined him.
“You both look lovely,” Lachlan said, the words as stiff as his rigid shoulders.
“I believe your instructions were dress to impress.” Ciara’s mouth puckered as she spoke. Her brother stared her down, and she forced a grim smile.
“It’s not a funeral,” he murmured more gently than I would have expected.
But she rested her head on my shoulder, refusing to look at him. “Tell that to my sex life.”
They were still ignoring each other when guests began to arrive. The Infernal Court was the first to show, each one from the royals to the courtiers to the guards looking like they had a very long, hard stick up their ass. All of them were inhumanly beautiful, more like statues meant for museums than living, breathing creatures.
I recognized the crown prince from the Equinox. Bain waited in the center of the group as his security took positions on either side. At his left, MacAlister sneered in our general direction. I had no idea if his nasty smile was directed at one of us in particular or all of us equally. A small ring of guards, some Infernal Court and some from ours, circled us as Bain strode over to shake Lachlan’s hand. He didn’t acknowledge anyone else.
In case we weren’t sure where we ranked.
Bain was the white-hot tip of the Infernal Court’s flame, and Lachlan was the deadly, untamed wild of the Nether Court’s dark. The princes of the shadow courts, though equal in standing, were so very different in every other way.
“Lachlan.” The prince bowed his icy head slightly.
“Bain,” Lachlan greeted him smoothly, not returning the gesture.
It seemed the pissing contests had begun.
Lachlan’s mouth lifted at the corner, and I realized I was fiddling with my pendant. But this time I didn’t drop my hand, letting him hear my thoughts. In this room full of fae, of strangers that I knew were as deadly as they came, he was my lifeline. Even if he is an insufferable prick, I added so his ego wouldn’t become dangerously overinflated.
Lachlan cleared his throat of what I thought might have been a laugh.
Bain’s smile bared a little too much of his teeth, and I wondered if this was just posturing between two fae males near the top of their food chain or if there was bad blood between them. If Lachlan thought his sister would be enough to resolve it.
“You’re the first court to arrive,” the Nether Prince drawled.
“Because we’re the most important guests.” Bain smiled at his own joke, glancing once at Ciara before his eyes flickered around the lobby. “Or, I am, at least.”
Lachlan simply stared back at him.
“Ciara,” Bain continued, something feral creeping into his eyes as he beheld his future bride. She inched closer to me, her hand slipping into mine. “I look forward to this evening, don’t you? One final hurrah before the first calling of the banns.”
She swallowed. “As do I.”
Bain’s gaze moved to where her hand clasped mine, and he frowned. “Don’t tell me that you’ve grown attached to a human.”
My mouth fell open, but before I could retort, Ciara glared. “I forgot how—”
“Not as much as I have,” Lachlan interjected smoothly.
Bain looked mollified. “I just wondered if I should be expecting her to join us in London.”
Ciara’s hand tightened on mine, but Lachlan shook his head. “Only when I’m there.” He nodded to his sister. “Ciara, will you show Bain and the others to their floor?”
Her chin raised, her smile a little too bright to be believed. “Please follow me.”