Page 1 of Silk Skullduggery (Haven Hollow #40)

Silk Skullduggery

The light from the cut crystal chandeliers overhead made the wine in my glass look like liquid gold.

Ever since my senses decided to turn themselves up to eleven after being blooded for the second time, I’d found myself more and more appreciative of the finer things in life. The cool brush of silk against my skin, the sweet note of pear and honey rising from my glass, the feel of the upholstery on the chair I was currently perched on—the soft seat felt like it was moulding around my body. All of it was exquisite.

And then, of course, let’s not forget the finest bit of opulence in the room (other than me), who was seated across the table from me—a man who made me forget there were too many people in the room.

Lorcan Rowe, my once would-be sire, and current magically ordained husband, was an absolute delight to the senses, no matter the situation. Not that I’d ever tell him as much—he’d be utterly insufferable if I did. But akin to how certain masterpieces can be elevated to new heights by proper lighting and framing, Lorcan (against the right backdrop) went from being simply drool-worthy to me actually having trouble keeping my hands to myself.

He’d dressed up for the occasion—our last night in Seattle after a lovely, and much needed, romantic weekend away. And maybe I was biased, since I’d made it for him, but the suit he was currently wearing metamorphosed him from a handsome man to a man who looked like a sculpture—one that had stepped down off his pedestal for the night.

As regards to the suit, I hadn’t gone with black, even though Lorcan could and did look devastating in ebony. No, not black this time, because it seemed a little too on the nose. Instead, I went with a deep charcoal that made his blond hair gleam, and his emerald green eyes pop. The waistcoat was a lovely maroon color, with silver buttons that I’d found at an antique store. They were almost as old as Lorcan was, and I thought they fit him perfectly. He’d forgone the tie, leaving the first two buttons at his collar undone, and that gave him a terribly urbane, cosmopolitan sort of look. It also left a little slice of his throat visible, and I had to keep a firm grip on the stem of my glass to keep myself from leaning over the table to lick it.

I almost always wanted Lorcan, but this was all a bit much, even for me. I thought it might have been pent-up emotions, finally getting a chance to let loose. The recent past in Haven Hollow had been hectic, to say the least. Between unfriendly vampires, Fae trying to start wars, and internet busybodies, Lorcan and I had barely had any time together. And that was to say nothing of our jobs, the coven, and our various friends and family who could be, in a word, demanding. It was exhausting. I didn’t know how people did this social stuff at all.

Which was why when Lorcan had proposed a weekend away, just for us, away from all of the responsibilities waiting for us back home, I’d leapt at the chance. I’d darn near leapt for him, actually. It had been just what I needed, a weekend away in a luxurious hotel, with other people to handle all the little things that cropped up in life while all I had to do was concentrate on the ridiculously gorgeous vampire spread out on the thousand-thread-count sheets.

We’d been dodging most of the local supernatural scene, for multiple reasons. For one, I didn’t want to get dragged into anything on my weekend off. Right—sorry, not sorry. Second, things were a little bit up in the air with regards to my vampire-witch status, and I didn’t want to give anyone outside Haven Hollow too close a look at me.

A lot of people frowned on Blood Witches. And by ‘frowned on’, I mean we were either forced into finishing the transformation, or burned at the stake. And since I had no interest in becoming a card-carrying member of the undead just yet (and had even less interest in being a smouldering pile of ashes), that meant Lorcan and I were engaged in a little bit of misdirection where the witch and vampire societies were concerned.

Summed up, I was pretending to be a full vampire.

It was hard. Boy was it hard. Not the lying part, mind you. No, I was actually excellent at that. It was just hard to deny being a witch, not using my magic when I was out and about, since turning into a vampire cut our connection to the Goddess. And there were a lot of people that just needed a good hex up the backside once in a while. Not to mention having to restrict my hours to those when the sun was down.

Luckily, the physical aspects about this act were a bit easier. Other than the fact that my senses were more acute, I was a little faster and stronger than my Pilates class could account for, and the fact that my teeth were a little longer and sharper than they were supposed to be, not much had changed. But with those changes, and the fact that Lorcan wasn’t losing his mind to get at my blood, the world at large was convinced that Wanda Depraysie was, in fact, a newly made vampire.

Yes, the act was a pain in the shapely rear end, but I didn’t want to go back to the days of ultimatums and the local vampires threatening war on our town, so this was just how it had to be. For the foreseeable future, anyway.

But I gave absolutely not a whit of care to any of that at the moment, because I had a glass of fantastic wine, I was dressed to the nines, and I had a gorgeous vampire sitting across from me. We’d caught wind of a very special event in the city, and I loved an excuse to go out on the town.

The Emerald City Auction House was the kind of place that didn’t need to advertise. Word of mouth got them more clients than they could shake an antique stick at, and they dealt with the kind of goods that only a real collector would be interested in or afford. Think: luxury items, one of a kind sorts of things, treasures imported from around the world. It seemed that the owner was also a member of the supernatural community, because the auction house tended to have magical and mystical items up for sale, as well. So, Lorcan and I had decided to come and take a look.

If nothing else, it was an excuse to dress up and drink on someone else’s dime. And I was quick enough to nab a few of the hors d’oeuvres that were making their way around the waiting area. The mini brie puffs were worth the trip alone.

For the moment, it was a little bit like swimming in a coral reef tank. It was all dazzling colors and metallic flashes of jewel bright shades in an enclosed room, and there was always a chance that a shark was lurking around a corner or decorative pillar.

It reminded me of growing up in the coven, really. Maybe a little less dangerous. Not to mention there were men in the crowd.

Quite a lot of men, actually. None were as handsome as Lorcan, but very few men were. In fact, I was hard-pressed to name one. There were a few singles spread throughout the room, arranged at the small tables and booths that had been set up like a high-class nightclub. Mostly it was couples and small groups, with one man lording over a corner booth surrounded by scantily clad nymphs who I suspected were paid to be here—posing as servers, bringing people their drinks.

I spotted one or two people in business suits carrying briefcases, representatives most likely, for people who couldn’t attend themselves. They hugged the gleaming black pillars that supported the high ceiling, trying not to draw too much attention to themselves.

That had to be a good sign. I hadn’t been to many auctions, not fancy ones at least, but this many people, staff attending, that meant there had to be some good things up for grabs. I didn’t even know if I wanted to buy anything, I was just enjoying the mystique, the buzz of it all.

“You look like you’re having a good time, Sweetling.”

Lorcan’s voice was low, and someone with worse hearing might not have picked the gentle Irish burr out of the hum of the other conversations going on in the room.

“I am.” I took a sip from my glass, letting the sweet notes of the wine wash over my tongue as I held my mouthful before swallowing. “This is exactly what I needed. And you know I’d never turn down a chance to dress up. I do feel quite pretty.”

“ Pretty is an understatement, Sweetling. You look positively devastating.”

I could feel the warmth in his gaze like a hand skimming over my skin, and I couldn’t stop myself from preening, from arching my back just a little. He was right. I looked good, and I knew it. Well, so what? What was wrong with a woman taking pride in her appearance? Nothing, if you asked me.

I’d designed the dress myself, as well as the enchantments I’d soaked into the cloth and woven between the strands. The dress was mulberry silk in a deep claret color and it hugged my torso like a second skin. The top was shaped into a halter neckline, leaving my back bare before the gown spilled to the floor in softly shimmering waves. It matched Lorcan’s waistcoat enough so we looked like a matched set, without appearing like we were going to prom.

I’d swept my hair up into a crown of curls, with only a few dark strands loose to frame my face. And I’d paired it all with a bold lip to draw attention to my mouth. I might have been over a hundred and forty years old, but I could still work it and I worked it well.

“You’re not doing so bad yourself,” I told him playfully as I rolled the lip of my wine glass just below my nose, enjoying the bouquet. “In fact, most of the women here have their eyes on you, no doubt wishing they could get an upgrade on their own dates.”

I was only partially teasing. I’d caught more than one woman staring after Lorcan for longer than was strictly socially acceptable. I could hardly blame them. As long as they didn’t try to touch, I wouldn’t have to bring out the fangs.

Lorcan grinned, wide enough that I caught the flash of one elongated canine. “What about you, Sweetling?”

I shrugged. “What about me?”

“Every man in here can’t keep his eyes off you. I’m afraid I’m going to have to fight a handful of duels over you before the night is out.”

Was it outrageous flattery? Of course. But that didn’t keep a pleasant tingle from trailing up my spine, and it didn’t stop me from putting a little more arch into my back. I could have listened to Lorcan talk for hours, and I had, in the past. He’d whispered against my skin, that lilting Irish brogue like velvet brushing over my body. But not tonight. Well, not now anyway.

I took a hasty sip of my wine, hoping to will the pink out of my cheeks. It had been an excellent weekend so far, and I was hoping to continue it once we were back at the hotel, but there was still a time and a place.

I was hoping that the event was going to start soon, but the servers were still circulating with their little trays of delicacies, and people were still receiving drinks, so I settled back into my tall chair to wait, if a little impatiently.

I’d always had a fondness for luxury, but then, who didn’t? Designer clothes with rich fabrics, running my hand over buttery soft leather upholstery—luxury was luxury. Drinking fine wine and nibbling on delicious food—that was my idea of a good time, and I wasn’t going to apologize for it. Things had been a little different for me in recent years, since I’d been forced to leave my old coven and its source of funds behind. But my store, Wanda’s Witchery, where I sold enchanted garments, was doing quite well. And I’d started my own coven, one not beholden to the old, outdated ways of other circles.

Circle Scapegrace was my pride and joy. And, yes it did rankle a little at times that I couldn’t publicly claim my rightful title as High Witch, on account of the whole ‘pretending to be a vampire’ thing. But at least Betanya, our oldest member, and a former Blood Witch herself, could fill in for me while I ran the coven behind the scenes.

Apparently, it was quite easy to turn from a Blood Witch back into a witch. You just had to be willing to murder the vampire who’d first blooded you, which was a bit of a sticking point where I was concerned. Because—right, I didn’t want Lorcan dead. Truth be told, I was rather fond of him.

I shifted in my seat and adjusted the spill of my skirts over my legs. “How much longer do you think we’ll be waiting?”

It was kind of nice sitting here with Lorcan, sure. But the longer we waited, the more aware I was of just how many people were in the room, moving around, breathing, with their hearts pumping a meaty rhythm. And while I enjoyed the attention of all the men (Lorcan hadn’t been lying) there were quite a few people watching us, and their attention was starting to feel just a smidge invasive.

Lorcan quirked an eyebrow at me, his smile taking on a decidedly smug look. “Oh? Are we in a rush, Sweetling? Maybe you’re in a hurry to return to our lodgings?”

I fixed him with a look. “In your dreams,” I lied.

“Repeatedly,” he agreed with a smile. “And in great detail.”

That had a laugh spilling out of me before I could stop it. That man’s mouth needed a warning sign. It was too dangerous to be out in public around hapless females. Really, I was taking one for the team, if I thought about it.

Before I could respond, I noticed the waitstaff discretely making their way out of the room. They took empty glasses and plates with them as they went, and a man stepped up beside the large, black lacquer doors that dominated the far wall of the waiting area. He was dressed in a suit, but one that would have looked right at home on a gentleman from a couple centuries ago, with his waistcoat, gartered stockings, and long frock coat.

He bowed theatrically, a foam of white lace frothing at the collar of his shirt and the cuffs of his sleeves. “Ladies and gentlemen, if you would make your way inside the theater, the main event of the evening is about to begin.”

At his words, the doors slowly opened on their own, the well-oiled hinges utterly silent.

Lorcan flashed me a grin and offered me his arm.

I took it. I was in four-inch Louboutin heels and walking on carpet, so yes, of course I took it. The shoes looked utterly incredible, and they made my legs look amazing, but they weren’t made for speed.

The main room of the auction house wasn’t exactly what I was expecting. The stage at the far end, that I’d figured on. Even the dark plum curtains that shielded the wings from the rest of the room. I’d been expecting some chairs, maybe even some little tables. I’d figured it would be a lot like the waiting area, just with the focal point on whatever was up for auction.

Instead, the room was set up like a small colosseum, with a slope down towards the center stage. Instead of benches or bleachers, the place was set up more like a fancy movie theater, with theater boxes that separated everyone from their neighbor, and the walls were high enough to afford some privacy. Except, of course, from whoever was standing on the stage.

It made sense, I realized as Lorcan and I were escorted to our box by a smiling usher. That way no one could be sure who had ended up purchasing which items. It would also limit people with magic from putting curses or hexes on their competitors in order to try and snag the best choices for themselves.

Shame. I’d come prepared with some pretty good hexes.

Still, there was something like an extremely fancy love seat in our section, done up in a plush gray velvet so soft, it was like kitten fur. There was also more wine, and some chilled bottles of water. Probably for the best. Drinking to excess and huge gobs of money didn’t always go well together.

Lorcan’s arm slipped around my waist as I pressed right up against him, our thighs touching all the way down. It sent a pleasant wash of heat up my leg, but I couldn’t let him know that, so I just raised an eyebrow at him as I arranged my skirts around my legs once again.

He chuckled and pressed a light kiss to my temple.

Once the usher closed the door to our box, I couldn’t see much of the room, other than the stage. It wasn’t a huge place, though. The auction house clearly was very much into quality, not quantity when it came to clients, which made perfect sense. How many people wanted an oil painting from the late seventeen hundreds that was enchanted so the owner could peer through the portrait’s eyes and the better question: who could afford it? Even without the magic, the painting was a lovely piece picturing a woman with a subtle smile as she peered back over her bare shoulder. But even if I’d had that kind of money, no way would I have spent it on a single painting.

Most of the lots were the usual for an auction house, I assumed. Furniture, ornate rugs, a collection of clothing that was intriguing, but not at the prices they were currently going for. I just enjoyed seeing all of it, snuggled as I was into Lorcan’s side, while his thumb rubbed back and forth over my knuckles.

There were a few intriguing things on the magical end. A phoenix feather quill that glowed softly, little sparks trailing off it. Apparently, it would never run out of ink. There was also a stuffed teddy bear with some truly dangerous looking claws and a red leather collar that had been enchanted to act as a child’s guardian. That one nearly caused a riot in the bids and went for a sum that just about made my eyes bulge out.

The next lot, though. Oh, my.

“And for our next lot,” the auctioneer, a short man with a mouth full of sharp teeth, announced. “We have something truly special.”

As if that were the cue, two attendants in simple black clothing, the better to blend into the background, wheeled out a rack on which a length of fabric had been draped. I took one look at it, and my breath caught in my throat.