But she could do better than mushroom man.
She glanced to the door with longing eyes, considering ditching. But a friend had set it up, and it wasn’t bad enough to burn bridges over.
Just as she brought her eyes forward, she caught someone sitting two seats down, staring intently at her.
The eyes belonged to a very handsome stranger, with thick dark hair and a strong jawline. Her interest had officially been piqued.
Very nice indeed, she thought, sizing him up.
She let him see her coy smile, and then turned forward, taking another sip of her drink.
A moment later, the air shifted as he took the seat next to her.
“Tell me you’re not on a date with him,” he said, flashing her a smirk.
She finished her drink and turned towards him, putting her knees between his legs, which were about as thick as tree trunks. They were definitely legs she could run her fingernails up. “I guess that depends on what you say next,” she said with an intent voice.
The stranger laughed softly and took her hand, kissing it with a slow, gentle movement. “I’m Reykon. Who do I have the honor of addressing?”
Her smile deepened. “I’m Robin.”
Reykon
As he sat in the crowded bar, kissing Robin’s soft, vanilla-scented hand, he couldn’t help but think: Lucidia Draxos is going to be very, very upset with me. He’d worked with his fellow strongblood on a couple of joint tasks, where jurisdictional lines had been crossed and the vampires had gotten into a pissing match (it happened more than you’d think). But he felt no obligation to Lucie as a member of his own race, and quite frankly, every time they’d interacted, he’d found her to be an icy bitch.
But then again, she didn’t do a very good job at protecting her own half-sister, who she’d been charged to kill twenty-five years ago, so who’s fault would it be? Lucidia had committed treason by disobeying, and he wasn’t planning to follow suit. Reykon was a simple guy, after all. House Xander had always been a bunch of scheming spymasters, every one of them believing they were the smartest in the room. House Demonte, where his loyalties were, had always been more of a blunt force instrument. Simple. Quick. Effective.
And they recruited the best.
As Reykon studied his next target, he found a spark of emotion lurking in his mind. This girl was different. And not just because as a strongblood, he was usually found bagging druggies and stray vampire servants that hadn’t paid their dues. There was something unique about her deep down. It could have been that she’d had no part in their seedy underworld, that she’d been discarded to a human adopted couple because she wasn’t a pureblood, and therefore should have been killed at birth (Lucie’d be in a lot of trouble pretty soon here for that lie). That was, after all, standard procedure for any weakblood. Lucidia’s father was once a great man, one of the most respected strongbloods, but he’d eaten the forbidden fruit of a mortal and muddled his line. Enter, Robin, the weakblood. Lucidia had stowed her away in some corner of the human world and hoped nobody would find her. Likely, Robin didn’t even know she was adopted. That innocence, that sweetness untouched by the hard world they came from, could have been the thing that intrigued him. But… no, it was something else that he couldn’t put his finger on. Something that made him want to look a little longer.
He did.
He looked at her glacier blue eyes and her long blond hair, her pale skin. He did everything but lick his lips.
Although he was pretty sure she’d licked hers.
As intriguing as that little side mission would be, time was not on their side, and Magnus Demonte had never been a patient person. For some reason, he wanted the girl alive, and he wanted her yesterday. It wasn’t Reykon’s job to ask questions.
He released her hand and threw a hundred-dollar bill on the bar. Laying his coat over his arm, he cast Robin a mischievous glance. “Are you going to wait for mushroom man to get back or did you have a different plan for your Friday night?”
She stood, linking her arm onto his and giving it a squeeze. “Plans change.”
Reykon walked out of the bar and into the crisp night air, with soft, vanilla-smelling Robin hanging on his arm.
Lucidia
The trip back to House Xander went by without a hitch, but left her feeling worn out. She was eager to get over the formalities and go back to her quarters for some much-needed rest.
The long hall in the house (or private mansion castle on three hundred acres of isolated land) stretched on for about a football field length, with marble flooring and high mahogany ceilings. Everything was adorned in purple and black, and made of deep, rich velvet. Their House’s color scheme had always bugged her, but then again, she didn’t know the first thing about decoration.
She approached the large doors, not bothering to glance at the guards who pulled them open for her. She strolled into the grand hall.
The grand hall to a vampire was what a throne room for a king. Thick tapestries and candles and large, ornate furniture covered the room, which had marble floor. Chaise lounges sat at periodic increments. Lucidia didn’t look at what humans were occupying them this time; at a certain point, their faces blended together, and they all turn into a mess of limbs, splayed out, eyes half-closed in dazed euphoria, marked with those two red punctures. Poor unfortunate souls.
She held her shoulders high and walked the long gauntlet up to Darian’s throne, which was large enough to sit three on. Darian sat back in a relaxed position, his burning red eyes tracking Lucidia’s every move, his face fixed in a playful expression. He wore purple robes, which contrasted to his white-silver hair. Two humans curled up on the pillows next to his feet, resting their cheeks on his leg.
