Shadow Fall

A garment bag hanging on the bathroom door presumably held their clothes for the evening. A glance at his watch told him they’d better hurry if they were going to make the party.

Custo showered quickly, stripping off the now unnecessary bandage, while Annabella put on her makeup at the sink.

When he got out, Annabella used the open shower door to shield herself while she dressed, though he knew she had no problems whatsoever with modesty, notwithstanding the fact that he’d seen all of her lovely body just that morning. But okay, he could take it.

Adam’s tux, classic in cut, was indeed a little tight across the shoulders, a fact Custo would point out at the first opportunity, but it looked good.

Annabella stepped out, devastating in a cobalt blue sheath, her skin a glowing contrast to the deep color and her rich hair, styled in a loose twist. Her eyes were luminous, her painted mouth set both to bitch and pout. When she turned to exit the room, she revealed a backless V that stopped at the last dimple of her spine, her supple, smooth body exposed, the cloth hugging at her waist and hips.

Custo’s fingers itched to skim down her skin, to shed the fabric from her shoulders, to loose her hair, and graze the column of her neck with his mouth. That he couldn’t made him deeply regret pissing her off quite so much.

It promised to be a hell of a night.

A slash of Wolf’s claw shredded the bedsheets. Rage and want consumed him, blurring his vision until the hard lines of the room doubled, colors and edges shifting around him as his legs stumbled for purchase on the too-soft mattress. Pungent scents layered the room. Woman. Angel. Blood. And numerous other mortals, all masculine, but difficult to distinguish individually.

The sources of those thick, driving smells were gone now. The woman, too.

Shadow had offered him back to the world too late, too reluctantly, with too little substance to catch her and press his advantage. A little sooner and he could have compelled her acceptance, when she was too frightened and weak to fight.

Thus his own shadows betrayed him, but they had ever been variable, inconstant, like the shifting boughs of Twilight.

Wolf shook out his pelt. He had his form now. And the woman might not choose to use his name, but she could not take it back.

What he needed was to set a trap. Not a cage like those on the lower levels of this massive structure, housing the life-charged corpses humankind called wraiths.

No, he needed a human trap fitted to a human heart.

And the banshee mother had taught him how.

Chapter Fifteen

ANNABELLA got another round of applause when she entered the reception. She smiled and bowed, this time with only a slight inclination of her head. She was seriously done with bowing. It was way overrated.

The reception was held at the extravagant Upper East Side penthouse of one of the ballet company’s patrons. A champagne affair for the start of the season. The hosts boasted the kind of wealth her family had never dreamed of knowing, and they weren’t subtle about it. An enormous, colorful blown-glass dewdrop of a chandelier warmed an entrance hallway several times larger than Annabella’s studio apartment.

Talk about crossing over into a different world.

Custo’s hand was warm at the small of her back, as if he were her date or something. She’d be damned, however, before she’d lean against him and get another of his remarks about her lack of spine. A nightmarish snakelike shadow had slid all over her today; the man could do with a little sensitivity.

Annabella’s faith in the abilities of Segue or Custo to get rid of Wolf was rapidly diminishing. It would be much worse if he got a hold of her the way he’d gotten a hold of Abigail. Unimaginably worse.

Or better? In some very disturbing ways, she wanted what Wolf—damn it, the wolf—offered. Wanted it so bad that she hardly dared to admit the truth to herself, much less Custo.

She surveyed the crowded interior. The wolf was somewhere in this superstunning place, plotting how to ruin her life so much that she didn’t want it anymore. Should she hide under the covers, afraid of the wolf (and herself), or live her life?

Damn it, Custo was right. She’d worked too hard to get to this glittering apartment, to receive that welcome applause.

Okay, back to basics.

Chin up, she commanded herself. The phrase was one of the most common corrections in the ballet classroom, especially for the youngest little dancers. Shoulders back. Another common correction. Tummy in.

One hour, Custo had promised. She could manage a little poise for that long. Heck, she’d go for two. Poise was her specialty.

A glittering assemblage of people halted her progress with congratulations and effusive compliments. “Magical!” “Transported!” “Inspired!” The fact that these comments were close to the truth dampened any pleasure she would have taken from them. But she was an actress, too, so she smiled and blushed and thanked the company’s patrons for their kind words.

She double-kissed Jasper, who embraced her, and took a picture with Venroy, who was disappointed she’d missed company class that morning. Oh, well.

Custo steered her, unnecessarily, through the groups and into a gathering room off to the side. A large, gorgeous table was the only furniture in the room.

“Have a drink.” Custo shoved a glass of wine into her hand. “This party is for you; it’s okay for you to enjoy it.”

Annabella frowned at him as the fruity smell wafted up from the glass and tickled her nose. Maybe not a good idea on an empty stomach. “I am enjoying it.”

“Anna!” a familiar female voice shouted over the party din.

Annabella looked over her shoulder. Katrina beckoned to her. She stood with a circle of girls to one side, a group largely forgotten by the rest of the people at the party.

Annabella disengaged herself from Custo, though he grabbed her hand while some old cougar with obnoxious breasts purred at him.

“Hey,” Annabella said, faking a smile, “drunk yet?”

“You weren’t at class this morning. Everyone was looking for you.” Katrina’s eyes were bright, her face flushed. Yeah, a little drunk.

Annabella opened her mouth to speak, but Katrina continued, “Ohmygod! You have to tell us. Is there something between you and Jasper? We thought he was gay!”

The others shushed her, but Katrina went on, full voice, “And there he was fighting that hot guy over you— who is he, by the way?—as soon as the curtain went down. Venroy is soooo pissed, but somebody heard him on the phone singing your praises, so he can’t be that pissed, if you know what I mean. What is going on?”

Damage control. Annabella mustered some calm to dampen Katrina’s spirits. “Jasper is still gay, as far as I know. He just took something that screwed things up in his head. Some weird herb, I think. He’s okay now.”

“And him?” Katrina grinned stupidly at Custo’s back. A couple others giggled into their glasses.

“A friend.”

“A good friend,” Katrina corrected.

Annabella shrugged. “I honestly don’t know what he is.”

“Look, if you don’t want him—”

Custo chose that opportune moment to turn back and whisper in her ear. “If you are done here, you should