Total pages in book: 177
Estimated words: 171450 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 857(@200wpm)___ 686(@250wpm)___ 572(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 171450 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 857(@200wpm)___ 686(@250wpm)___ 572(@300wpm)
Black-and-white photographs of abstract views of the city were printed on towering canvas and aligned against one long wall. They were almost eerie, painting a picture of a dark city from below and on high. A perspective that left Kierse unsettled.
“Mom! Dad! I brought my friends over,” Lyra called as she strutted into the penthouse on stilettos as sharp as knives.
A woman appeared at the top of a long, winding staircase. She was all sharp edges with porcelain-white skin and Hollywood waves down to her shoulders. She wore a black, long-sleeve silk gown that trailed behind her on the steps. She was all vampire elegance with a breezy walk, pushed back shoulders, and blood-red lips. Fangs were visible when she saw her daughter and a smile split her face, softening her on all fronts.
“You’re home,” she said, drawing Lyra in for a hug.
“I did what Dad asked.” Lyra released her and gestured to them. “Mom, these are my friends, Kierse and…”
“Graves,” she said stiffly.
“Hello, Reyna,” Graves said with a smirk. “It’s been a long time.”
“A lifetime,” she said.
“You were decidedly more human last we met,” Graves said as he took her offered hand with a gloved one of his own.
“Wasn’t exactly my choice,” Reyna said.
“So I heard. I’m surprised you made truce with the Syndicate considering Roland Batiste is running it.”
Something sharpened in Reyna at those words. “The Syndicate might have started this, but I assure you that I finished it.”
“We both did,” another darker voice said from across the room.
“Dad,” Lyra said. She strode across the room and threw her arms around the still-darkened figure. Lyra was whispering, but everyone in the room had advanced hearing, as she said, “Don’t be too scary.”
Lyra’s father stepped out of the shadows he was made for. He towered over his already tall daughter, broad, square-shouldered, and almost bulky with muscle even in his tailored tuxedo. His hair and eyes were as dark as the night he belonged in and his skin as pale as the sun he so rarely saw. He kept his hand on his daughter before moving to Reyna’s side like a protective shadow. His brow darkened as his eyes fell on the threat in the room—Graves.
Graves slipped a possessive, gloved hand around Kierse’s waist. It said everything he hadn’t voiced. What happened between them?
Reyna cleared her throat. “Anyway, I have my daughter and my husband at the expense of my humanity. It could be worse.”
“Indeed,” Graves said evenly.
“Now introductions, please,” Reyna said cheerfully.
“Daddy,” Lyra said. “You know Graves, of course. This is my friend Kierse. Kierse, my parents, Beckham and Reyna.”
“It’s a pleasure to meet you,” Kierse said with a real smile. Lyra seemed so chill compared to her scary father and imperious mother. “You have a wonderful daughter and a really beautiful home.”
Beckham moved behind his wife. His hands went to her shoulders as he pressed a kiss into her dark hair. “Thank you. Lyra is our whole world.”
“She really is,” Reyna said.
“Can you try not to be so dramatic?” Lyra asked. “I’ve known them for a while. Graves gave me back that picture from your collection. Can we all just make peace?”
“I don’t see why you would still be upset with me,” Graves said with a smile. “After all, you won the war.”
Reyna winced as she stepped out of her husband’s hands. “That’s right. We won.”
“Enough talk about the past. We’ve moved on. This is the problem with vampires,” Lyra said. “Never can move past when you died.”
“Lyra,” Beckham snapped.
“Anyway, is Quint here yet?” Lyra asked. “I can’t believe you invited him.”
“Alexander isn’t here yet,” Reyna told her, a knowing look crossing her face.
“And we didn’t invite him,” Beckham said. “The Syndicate sent him.”
“I’d rather deal with Alexander than his father.”
Beckham’s eyes went dark. “I’d like to deal with his father personally.”
“Yeah, yeah,” Lyra said with a hand wave.
Reyna stepped toward Kierse. “Why don’t I get you a drink? Wine?”
“Sure,” Kierse said gratefully. Reyna managed the tension well. “I’ll help.”
She left Graves alone with Beckham Anderson, leaving the brooding alpha males to duke it out. Kierse followed Reyna into the kitchen, where she withdrew a bottle of cabernet and poured them each a glass.
Kierse took a sip. “Oh, that’s good. Wow.”
Reyna looked down into the swirling red liquid. “It’s my favorite vintage. Beckham bought the winery so we’d never run out. Even during the war.”
“That sounds like something Graves would do.”
Reyna’s eyes flicked back to them. “They’re more alike than either would give credit for.”
“Usually those kinds of people hate each other the most.”
She laughed softly. “A true assessment.”
The elevator dinged again, and Lyra straightened all at once. The little actress could play whatever part that suited her, but Kierse could see that she was uncomfortable with Quint—no, Alexander’s upcoming appearance.
“So, what’s their history?” Kierse asked.
“She didn’t tell you?” Reyna said.