Page 3 of Glimmer and Burn (Unity #1)

Devin entertained the idea of calling in his security to handle Wraith.

There might be fallout, Wraith was a powerful figure, but it would be worth it to forgo this insipid charade.

Now that the club was flourishing, Devin could finally pursue what truly mattered.

Ending the life of Alderman Yarrow Graves.

However, in the past year he’d accomplished very little.

Graves was too well-connected, too clever, and practically untouchable beneath the armor of societal adoration.

Devin couldn’t get within earshot of the man, let alone close enough for bodily harm.

Wraith had turned his first lead in all that time into a farce. Still, even Devin knew not to push Wraith too far. Crossing Wraith would be suicide.

Devin considered the woman beside him, Miss Wilde.

No doubt one of the daughters of James Wilde, the guardian Alderman.

He couldn’t recall her name at present. Something with an N or possibly M.

She had captured his attention long before she had found herself in the seat he reserved for this meeting.

Dressed in flattering scarlet, raven hair—he suspected was a wig—and thick make-up wasn’t enough to hide the ferocity in her gaze.

She had been both unsure and yet confident as she passed through the first room of his club.

Most noble ladies wouldn’t have made it that far.

No refunds, unfortunately, for weak constitutions.

Yet, Miss Wilde had pressed on, though so clearly uncomfortable.

She made little effort in hiding her contempt for him.

He hadn’t spoken two words to her before she’d decided she disliked him.

Under different circumstances, he’d amuse himself with instigating her anger.

Now, of course, he knew she had been on a mission to gather the information he sought for his own ends.

That made her an obstacle. A gorgeous, alluring obstacle, but no less in the way.

Even now, she radiated anger. She was incredibly easy to read, though he guessed she would not like that about herself.

Still, he wasn’t sure if he could outbid a noble.

Devin was by no means poor, but he wondered if his view of poor matched the Lady next to him.

Would he need to dip into the club’s funds?

Jack Hale, his manager, would moan about the irresponsibility for months and Devin might have told Jack to fuck off, but it was Jack’s management of the Black Heart that left Devin free to hate his life and drink his past away, so he allowed the man more liberties than he might otherwise.

But he wanted this information. All other attempts to get close to Graves had failed, now he was hunting for leverage against his enemy, a level of espionage he had not resorted to lightly.

Whatever Miss Wilde’s reasons, Devin had his own revenge to think about.

If he couldn’t avenge his fallen comrades what was the point?

Miss Wilde’s gaze kept shifting toward him, trying to read him, but he kept his demeanor neutral.

He wouldn’t let her see his desperation.

And from the looks of it, she had not planned on a bidding war, either.

Maybe he could outbid her without having to siphon off the club.

He was, technically, a lord now and had his own money to use.

But would it be enough to outbid Miss Wilde?

Wraith worked his tongue along the back of his teeth, watching them closely.

He was still at ease, body draped over the booth, but growing bored.

“I’ll tell you what, let’s make this a bit easier.

” He reached into his coat and drew out a piece of paper.

He tore it in half and slid a piece to each of them.

“We’ll do a silent bid. Write down what you’ll pay. Highest wins.”

He handed Miss Wilde a pencil first. “Keep in mind, I’m not selling for less than what was originally promised. And if you want to outbid the other, might want to think of a nice large number. Understood?”

Miss Wilde nodded and hovered over her paper, obscuring Devin’s view with her body.

Her shoulder rose to the curve of a slender neck, to the base of her scalp where, now, he was certain she was wearing a wig.

Golden strands curled out from the net of raven hair.

Blonde, he knew it. Striking against the warm tones in her skin.

She folded the paper and offered the pencil tip first, her grip likened to holding a blade, as if she were prepared to stab him with lead.

He plucked the pencil from her and her fingers instantly curled into a fist. Devin masked an amused smile with a cough and swipe of his hand.

A viper ready to snap. Were they in different circumstances, he’d have gladly spent the evening teasing out her venomous strike.

Indecision wrestled in him for a moment. He was not going to throw this bid, not for her pleading eyes, not for a carriage of orphans. He tapped the pencil point on the paper, searching for a number.

When he finally bent to write—making a great show of obscuring her view with his shoulder—Devin got to the final zero and hesitated. One number might stand between him and his revenge…Devin threw the pencil down, folded his bid, and slid the paper to Wraith.

He might have lost the whole thing over that zero. And it was not pity or compassion that stayed his hand. It was self-preservation, pure and simple. He had to be economical. If he lost, maybe they could share. His grin returned. He’d enjoy sharing more than just information with Miss Wilde.

Wraith collected the bids. “Thank you for your business.” He looked at both, smiling. Then his eyes moved to Miss Wilde. “Congratulations, Miss, you’ve won yourself some information.”

She breathed as if she’d been holding her breath and nodded. “Thank the Divine.”

“Payment up front.”

Her face hardened. “I have what was promised, the rest can be arranged in two installments. Just give me the name and address for delivery.” She slid her offering toward him and Wraith stared at her a moment longer.

“I expect you know what happens if you don’t pay?” he said, the threat implied. “So let’s just make sure we hold up our end, yeah?” He took the offered notes and handed her an envelope.

Devin followed the transaction. Revenge flared angry and consuming in his heart at the sight, so close to information that could ruin his enemy.

He suppressed the urge to snatch it and have Miss Wilde escorted outside.

He should have added that last zero. What an idiot.

He would not make such a mistake again, no matter how enchanting the eyes.

“Good day, Mr. Drake,” she said, mouth tight, and she booked for the exit.

Hold on a damn minute .

Devin rose and followed, catching her as she raced down the steps of the club and into the street.

His hand closed around her wrist and she whirled, eyes like emerald flame.

She moved with expert control, advancing, and driving him into a wall.

She was strong. Inhumanly strong. So, Miss Wilde was a guardian.

The sub-race of humans gifted blood from their Divine to make them stronger and faster, better agility and stamina.

Advantages to help humans compete in a world of monsters.

Except now, those monsters were neighbors and peers.

“Easy, love, I’m just here to talk,” he said.

Her arm pressed against his throat to hold him in place.

Her eyes were sparks of rage. There was a masochistic part of him that wanted to push her.

To see how far he could rile her before she struck.

To tempt. To find what buttons made her nose flare and her eyes assault.

He had no doubt that she could land him on his ass if she wanted.

And he would very much enjoy being on his back under Miss Wilde.

Devin clicked his tongue and laughed as he halted that train of thought. He nearly forgot she was in his way.

“What? Why are you laughing?”

“You’d kill me if I told you,” he admitted freely.

Miss Wilde’s arm pressed harder into his neck. “What do you want? I won. I get the prize.”

“That you did. But I couldn’t very well leave it at that, could I?

” He smiled with as much charm as he could muster under the circumstances.

She looked ready to cut his head off. Temptation still called to him.

She was tantalizingly close. All he had to do was look down to notice her chest pressing the confines of her dress as she took quick, heavy breaths.

But that envelope clutched in her other arm called louder.

“Why? It’s not that hard,” she prompted, innocently ignorant to the turmoil her anger was causing. Devin cleared his throat and swallowed down the innuendo begging to be shared.

“Perhaps I could explain if my throat weren’t being crushed,” he tried, adding a small cough for effect.

She rolled her eyes, but eased back, releasing him. Though, still on her guard.

“Thank you. That is much better.” He smoothed his clothes, picked off a spec of dirt.

They hadn’t drawn much attention, the sort of crowd that gathered outside his doors were not the sort to bat an eye at a woman forcing a man against a wall.

He noticed Jack over Miss Wilde’s shoulder, wavering at the door and ready to intervene.

“What do you want? I have places to be,” she snapped, unaware of how close she came to being outnumbered.

He and Jack, a half-fae and an immortal, could easily hold their own against a guardian.

Devin could have forced her to give him that envelope and be done with the nice guy routine.

Or steal it from her, he was good with his hands.

She wouldn’t know until too late. But, alas, for all his faults and thwarting of rules, even scoundrels set limits. She had won, fair enough.

Devin studied her. Beautiful face twisted in steely resolve, but then that something deeper simmered in her eyes. Desperation? Why did she want this information, anyway? Perhaps her stakes were higher than he estimated. “You know that I want the information in your hand.”

“Yes.”

“Well, I thought perhaps we could work together. We seem to have a similar goal. Why not share? I can make it worth your while.”

Her smile was anything but friendly. “I don’t need any help and you have nothing I want.”

“Ah, princess, but everyone needs help once in a while, no?” He leaned in closer, noting how she stiffened, but not altering his course until his lips were near her ear.

“And, darling, everyone wants something.” His arms maneuvered to keep her from retreating, placed to hold her arm if necessary.

Devin did not make restraining unwilling women a habit, but this was a desperate situation and she was being needlessly obstinate.

“ Don’t call me princess.” She spoke through her teeth, almost snarling with warning, and snatched her arm away before he could restrain it. Her movements were quick as a spark, her body a few paces away before he could blink. He put his hands up in a show of submission.

“Regardless, I think we can help each other.”

“There’s nothing I need from you,” she said, voice stern. “I’m more than capable of handling things myself. Thank you for the offer. Don’t touch or follow me again.” And she turned on a heel and stalked off into the night.

Beautiful, but stubborn and rash. Fine. He had other ways of achieving his goal. He didn’t need her.

Devin returned to the club and headed upstairs. Jack had retreated to the office, looking over accounts and only sparing him a few blatant looks over the pages. Devin went straight for the shelf of brandy.

As Miss Wilde fled, he’d started to see the pulsing flame of her aura. He tore off the cap and let it fall before tipping the bottle to his lips. He hoped he would never see the siren again.