Flesh And Blood: House of Comarre: Book Two (House of Comarre 2) by Painter, Kristen (best books for 20 year olds .txt) 📕

into her neck and whispered the words into her hair. ‘Of course.’ Any promise to keep her safe. That was part of his job. Just part of his job.

She exhaled, her body going limp. She moved a little, like she was snuggling against him. His body took notice. ‘You’re a good man.’

He half smiled and repositioned the sheet over her again. She had no idea.

She sighed, weakly patting his leg where her hand rested. ‘Even if you are a vampire.’

Chapter Eighteen

Tatiana prowled the halls, still amazed at how the effects of daysleep barely registered here in Dominic’s lair. At her best guess, the sun had been up for two or three hours. She’d rested for an hour in her appointed suite to regain some of the strength used by holding Mia’s and Katsumi’s images for so long, but now it was time to find Malkolm and get him to reveal the comarré’s location. Thanks to the charcoal-skinned fae, Tatiana knew just how to work Malkolm into telling her, too. The fae had told her to leave Malkolm alone, that now was not the time to make things right. Sounded to her like Malkolm and Katsumi had had some sort of lover’s quarrel. For Tatiana’s purposes, now was very much the time to make things right.

She laughed, almost woozy with power. Not in five hundred years had she forgotten what pleasures her husband enjoyed. Now she would once again use them to bend him to her will. Just as soon as she made sure Katsumi hadn’t been discovered.

If only there was a way to let Nasir know she was okay so he wouldn’t come looking for her and screw things up. But she would not risk blowing her cover trying to alert him.

The club was quieter at this hour but far from deserted. She kept her head down and the clipboard she’d found in front of her. So far, few employees or patrons had been willing to disturb the busy manager. She walked into Vanity, doing her best to look preoccupied, and headed for the private door that led to the storage room where she’d left Katsumi.

‘Katsumi. I didn’t expect to see you this shift.’ The remnant bartender smiled as he set drinks in front of his customers. His eyes held a hint of wolfen blue, and his hands carried an extra digit. Canine-shifter and fae. Wonderful.

‘I’m not really working – just had to check some things in inventory.’ That sounded right. She kept going, hoping he’d get the hint and leave her alone.

He didn’t. ‘While I have you, could we go over next week’s schedule? I can’t work the Wednesday shift because—’

‘Fine. I’ll get someone else to do it.’ If that didn’t work, she’d promise him a raise to shut up. Or drag him into the back room and kill him. Unfortunately, her powers of persuasion didn’t work against fae or varcolai, or when she used the mimicry power.

His brows rose. ‘You will? Great. Thanks!’

She made it to the exit and slipped through to the maze of behind-the-scenes passages used by employees. She could barely remember how to get to the door she’d first entered, let alone this storage room. Coming back through Vanity had been the best shot.

Using Katsumi’s thumbprint, she unlocked the door and cautiously entered. The stacks of chairs she’d dumped the woman behind were moved, and Katsumi had wriggled about half the length of her lower body out. Other than that, the room was undisturbed.

Tatiana locked the door and dropped her illusion. A few more minutes of rest couldn’t hurt. She tugged Katsumi back into place and repositioned the chairs to hide her.

‘Don’t worry, fringe. I’m almost done with you.’

Katsumi squirmed and said something that sounded like a curse but was too muffled by duct tape to be understood.

Tatiana patted her on the head. ‘There, there. You’re being very helpful. I might let you live.’ Not bloody likely.

Back out into the club, she once again used the clipboard and an air of busyness to keep the peons away. Soon she was several levels lower and back in the suites section. Hers was at the end of the main corridor. Although Dominic had referred to the rooms by name, none of the doors were marked. She counted until she came to the fifth door. She opened it. Yes, this was hers. The Dante suite. Would the Donatello be close by? Dante was a writer, Donatello a sculptor. If Dominic considered them both artists, they might be near each other. If not … There was no way to tell if his method was based in some sort of reasoning or if he was just another capricious noble.

With no other option she could see, she clung tightly to her guise as Katsumi and started opening doors.

Soft, familiar hands glided over Mal’s body, tugging him gently from the grip of daysleep. Swirls of gold and remembrances of silken skin flashed through his fogged brain. The voices buzzed with worry, but they were as distant as the moon. He turned into the warm honeyed scent of woman, slipping his hands around a slim waist, and drew the form against him.

The dream caressed him and kissed his neck, murmuring words of smoky promise. Satiny strands of hair teased his skin. Sunlight danced behind his lids. Hungry sounds left his throat, and the desire for sleep waned as pleasure pulled him to the surface. Something sharp nicked him. His body tightened with desire. Then revulsion.

Fangs.

The coma of daysleep vanished.

He jarred awake to the voices’ metallic whine, the sick-sweet scent of jasmine, and the prickle of an unwelcome evil. Every grain of his being stirred with the knowledge that something was very wrong. Wake up!

He leaped away from the bed and the body filling the space next to him and flicked on the light.

Sprawled across his bed was the last woman he would have ever imagined and certainly not one he had ever hoped would end up