Max pushed open the doors with his free hand, and they swung in effortlessly despite their size and weight. As they stepped over the threshold, the brisk night air dissipated, replaced by a warm, perfumed atmosphere, infused with hints of magic. They came to a stop underneath a crystal chandelier hanging from a high-vaulted ceiling, the crystals scattering prismed light over the room. Beyond the foyer, gold-veined columns lined three hallways, the black marble floor stretching into the distance. Only one of the halls was lit.

  Erynn and Sera entered the foyer behind them, and Tamsin looked to see if Kendall was also near the entrance. But the foyer was sparsely occupied, as if people had been drawn or funneled toward the center of the gathering soon after entering.

  As she thought it, Tamsin looked to the left and noticed a man in a black tuxedo with a crisp white shirt standing next to a pedestal, his face lined in a map of his life. He wore a polite smile as he held his hand out, waiting for their invitations.

  Tamsin nudged Max with her arm, reminding her that he hadn’t let go of hers. The phantom withdrew the translucent invitations from his jacket pocket and handed them to the attendant, who tilted his head in acknowledgement.

  “Welcome Mr. Fhearchair and Ms. Redthorne.” Tamsin blinked as the man pronounced Max’s surname perfectly. She had no idea what kind of supernatural he was, but she knew vampires and shifters rarely aged like the man had. And she sincerely doubted he was human. But the attendant continued speaking, ignoring Tamsin’s surprise. “We have entertainment to the left, food to the right, and the bar is just up ahead.” He pointed in each direction as he spoke.

  Tamsin glanced at Max. Where to, first? she wondered.

  “Can ye point us in the direction of the hostess? We would like to thank her for the invitation.” Max gave the man a sheepish smile, all charm and innocence.

  Tamsin fought the urge to roll her eyes yet again.

  The attendant bowed slightly. “She will find you, when the time is right.” He then turned to Erynn and Sera, who were waiting behind them.

  Tamsin tugged on Max’s arm. “Let’s go.”

  Max started walking. “Should we try the bar first, then?”

  She nodded. She could do with a drink…or three. Max’s behavior was doing her head in. As they walked, she tried to tug her arm free, but he gave her that shit-eating grin she hated—really, she did—and trapped her arm between his and his body. They passed a series of closed doors as they walked, the hallway lit by decorative sconces emanating blue light.

  “What do ye think is in those rooms?” Max asked as they walked, studying the doors they passed.

  Tamsin frowned. “Nothing the host wants us to see.” She could feel the magic on each door. Can he see the magic? she pondered.

  “Agreed.”

  “Why don’t you touch one of the doors to find out?” Tamsin asked, voice deliberately mild.

  Max raised one of his eyebrows. “I dinnae need to be zapped into the next life.”

  Hmm. Tamsin played with the gold charm on her necklace as they walked, trying to figure out Max’s game.

  Soon, the bar came into view, but it wasn’t what Tamsin had been expecting. Then again, nothing about this party or venue had been predictable at all. Which was odd, indeed, considering her foresight.

  Something pivotal to my life must happen here.

  Otherwise, she would have seen this in advance—if only because so many supernatural creatures had gathered here for the evening.

  Max and Tamsin made their way to the marble counter, which was in the shape of a half-moon. The ceiling was lined with hanging bottles, and Tamsin squinted to see if there were any identifying labels on them. But like everything else here, as soon as she focused on it, it became harder to define.

  Several bartenders worked the half-moon bar, but it was a vampire with platinum blond hair that turned to look at the two of them, eyebrows raised. “What do you fancy?” He gave them a toothy grin. “Aside from each other.”

  Tamsin spluttered and jerked her arm free, while Max leaned forward with a roguish smile, unaffected in the slightest. “What’s the house special?”

  “Moonlit Venom.”

  “What’s in—?” Tamsin began.

  But Max cut her off. “We’ll take two.”

  The bartender gave a nod and started mixing the cocktails.

  “Max, I don’t know what you’re playing at⁠—”

  The phantom shrugged. “If ye don’t want yers, I’ll drink it.”

  She glared at the innocent look on his face. What was he up to?

  Whatever it was, she figured she should start planning her revenge.

  Chapter 8

  Max

  Drink in hand, Max sipped at the glowing Moonlit Toxin or Venom or whatever it was called. He’d already forgotten its name. It had been served in a cocktail glass, with the rim dusted in something sweet that reminded him of honey. The beverage itself had a little spice to it, but was otherwise smooth and easy to drink.

  It was a good thing he couldn’t really get drunk.

  Tamsin clutched her cocktail like she wanted to bash him over the head with it. He gave her an easy smile and took another sip of his drink, wondering what was in it that made it glow. Almost like bioluminescence, he thought.

  Beyond the bar was what Max thought was the ballroom, but it appeared more like a high-end nightclub than the ballrooms he was familiar with. The room was lit by tiny fairy lights, which hung from the ceiling in gossamer strands, while the music pulsed along with the supernatural beings who wove around the dance floor. He spotted fae, shifters, vampires, and maybe even a merfolk or two. Some were from Houses with their House crests visible, while others were from the unclaimed lands in between.

  Interesting.

  This Vaelora sure seemed to know a lot of people.

  As they pushed through the throng, it became obvious that the dance floor was occupied by couples or single people prowling with hungry eyes, scanning the crowd to find a potential conquest of their own. He didn’t like that more than a few of those hungry gazes landed on Tamsin.

  “Isn’t All Hallows’ Eve about the thinning of the veil between the world of the dead and that of the living?” Max asked Tamsin.

  Her mouth formed a small moue. “Yes.”

  “What’s with the sexmosphere, then?”

  “The what?”

  “The sexmosphere,” Max repeated, as if it should be obvious.

  “That’s not even a word.”

  He shrugged. “It should be.”

  She smoothed down an invisible wrinkle on her dress, clearly deciding that arguing with him over a made-up term was not worth it. “I’m not sure. Maybe it’s the magic?”

  Maybe. Probably.

  What were Vaelora’s intentions?

  He was keen to meet their hostess and find out.

  He took another sip of the Moonlit something-or-other and frowned. He was finding it unusually challenging to split his focus. He needed to watch the crowd, to judge whether anyone’s stare lingered too long, to determine whether an assassin might be waiting for them in the shadows. Because even though Tamsin and Max were not the leaders of the House of Death and Diamond, they were next in line, making them powerful in their own right. Their positions attracted blades in the dark as surely as they attracted admiration. And yet…all he wanted to do was look at Tamsin.

  She rarely dressed up; she usually wore loose fitting clothes and draped herself in scarves and shawls that blurred the dangerous curves and lines of her figure that he knew were there. Not making her any less attractive to him, but still. Tonight, the dress she wore mapped every curve of her body like a sin written in silk.

  That dress should be illegal, Max decided. Well, illegal for anyone other than himself to see, at any rate. He closed the distance between them, not liking how more and more hungry stares were focused on her the longer than moved around the room.

  Wanting her was a physical ache now, a sharp reminder of how little it had taken—one afternoon trapped in a too-small room—to shove him past the point of no return. He wanted Tamsin, there was no longer any denying it, and tonight, tonight he was going to try his best to get her to see him as something other than a mere coworker.

  After all, how often did they get nights like this? Nights without duties pressing down on them; nights soaked in magic and moonlight that radiated possibility. He knew he wasn’t the only one that felt it, no matter how much she acted otherwise.

  As they walked farther into the ballroom slash nightclub, Tamsin still hadn’t touched her drink. Max drained the last of his and looked for somewhere to set the glass down. Almost as if they were summoned, a waiter appeared at his elbow with an empty tray. He set the empty glass down with precision, murmuring a thank you to the staff member. Then, with a sly smile, he reached over and plucked Tamsin’s drink straight from her hand.

  “Hey!” She twisted toward him, shock stamped on her beautiful face.

  He slowly sipped the cocktail, watching her over the rim with open challenge, waiting for her temper to flare. “Hey yerself,” he murmured, then took a long swallow.

  “You stole my drink.” She flicked some loose strands of her hair over one shoulder in irritation, the movement sharp and familiar. He resisted the urge to seize a handful of her hair, to bury his face in it—he’d tried a more sedate version of that earlier today, and she hadn’t exactly approved.

  At least she dinnae slap me for it.

  “What are ye going to do about it? Ye dinnae even want it.” Annoying her was reckless, but it was better than watching the supernaturals in the room circle her like wolves, all sharp edges and strategy. He wanted her to focus on him, and him, alone, not them.

  Her lips parted, no doubt ready to lash him with a biting retort—when she froze. Her pale gaze locked on something over his shoulder and her expression turned almost…wounded.

  Wondering what could have put that look on her face, Max pivoted, jaw tightening, ready to take out whatever—or whoever—it was that could make her feel anything like that. A tall, broad-shouldered man with sandy-blond hair stood behind Max, staring at Tamsin like he’d just won the lottery. Then, he was pushing past Max, hands clamping onto Tamsin’s shoulders with a familiarity that made Max’s skin crawl.

  “Tammy!” The man gave her a little shake and then leaned in as if to kiss her cheek. Max’s grip tightened on the cocktail glass’s stem.

  Tamsin stepped neatly back, her expression strangely blank.

  “Oh my gods, what a surprise! I didn’t expect to see you here.” The man’s voice was smooth, but the words had an edge to them Max couldn’t place.

  “And why would that be?” Tamsin’s tone was glacial, her voice having an edge to it that Max had never heard before, immediately putting him on alert.

  His grip on the stem of the glass went white-knuckled.

  The man chuckled, seemingly oblivious to the bite in Tamsin’s countenance. Or ignoring it. “Your new job. Working for the House of Death and…whatever it was. Can’t imagine you have much time for fun.”

  “The House of Death and Diamond.” Max half-expected ice crystals to form in the air around her.

  “That’s it.” The man tapped himself on the forehead. “How silly of me to forget. But it’s hard with all these new Houses nowadays.”

  There was an insult there, and they all knew it.

  “There are two new Houses, and Death and Diamond was first,” Max said, drawing the man’s attention for the first time. The blond gave Max a once over, quickly dismissing him, and turned back to Tamsin.

  A small cracking sound had Max loosening his grip on the cocktail glass as he looked down and stared at the broken stem. Right. He downed the rest of the drink, and as before, a waiter appeared with a tray ready to take the empty vessel away. He put it down, giving a sheepish smile when the glass split into two fragments. The waiter barely even glanced at the broken shards.

  “You must miss Earth and Emerald. I’m now in a senior advisor role, you know.” The blond ran a hand over one of the lapels on his suit, clearly proud of whatever achievement he’d made.

  Tamsin raised a single eyebrow. “Really.” The word landed like a dagger—flat, sharp, and final.

  Max smirked. Usually, he enjoyed watching someone else squirm under her frosty demeanor…but this time was different, there was no humor in her eyes—just pure, cold disdain. He was thankful to realize she’d never looked at him like that.

  “We’ll have to dance, catch up properly,” the man went on blithely, clearly not reading the room. “Can you believe it’s been five years?”

  “It’s funny how quickly time can pass,” Tamsin replied, dry enough that Max almost heard the eyeroll she withheld.

  “Come now, I know you’ve missed me.”

  Max’s hand fisted at his side, his fingernails digging into his palm. Who the fuck was this guy? And what had he been to Tamsin?

  Tamsin, meanwhile, stood rigid, her shoulders squared against the onslaught of this idiot.

  The blond reached for her again, sliding a hand down her arm, fingers catching on hers. His grin was smug. “And no ring—I see you still haven’t gotten over me.”

  Heat flared in Max’s chest, something possessive that danced between pain and hate, love and lust. He closed the distance in a heartbeat, coming to stand behind Tamsin. He knew he was risking death, but he could no more stop himself than he could a runaway train. He slid an arm firmly around Tamsin’s waist, pulling her back to his front.

  “I dinnae know why yer pawing at my mate,” Max said evenly, voice just soft enough to be dangerous, “but if you dinnae remove your hand, I’ll remove it fer you.” Max smiled then—more a baring of a teeth. “Permanently.”

  The man dropped her hand as if scalded, staring at Max like a puppy startled by a wolf’s snarl. “Who the hell is this?”

  Tamsin’s hand settled over Max’s on her waist—not pushing him off, but steadying, anchoring herself. Max’s heart thumped once, hard. This was right. How it was meant to be. But even though Max had said she was his mate…there was no actual bond between them. Had never been. They would’ve felt it by now.

  “Mate?” the blond repeated, as if stuck on the fact.

  Max’s smile turned venomous. “Ye dinnae need a ring when yer souls are entwined forever. Even a witch like ye should know that.”

  Something about this man dragged every dark, possessive nerve in him to the surface. And Max wasn’t about to hide it.

  Couldn’t even if he had wanted to.

  The man’s startled expression turned haughty. “Well, now I see why you threw me over for your new job.”

  “Me? You were the one who cheated on me.” Tamsin’s tone was filled with scorn. “I just…found what was waiting for me.” She patted Max’s hand around her waist.

  Max’s breath caught in his chest. She’d been cheated on? Tamsin, who could see the future as easily as she breathed…

  But then, she’d once told him she couldn’t see her own fate.

  She’d walked blindly into love, only to have it hurt her.

  His grip tightened without thinking, but she didn’t protest. Instead, she tilted her head, tucking it under Max’s chin. “Goodbye, Nigel. May you have the future you deserve.” Then she turned in Max’s arms, “Shall we dance, mate?”

  He had a feeling he was about to get into some serious trouble.

  He grinned, more than looking forward to it.

  Chapter 9

  Tamsin

  Tamsin could not believe Max had told Nigel they were lovers.

  No. Actually, it was worse than that.

  He’d told Nigel they were mates.

  Not that she was against upsetting the blond asshole. He’d had it coming, and then some. But mates? It was a blatant lie. She’d never felt the mating bond with Max, even if she’d been unwillingly drawn to him, time and time again. They were coworkers.

  Out on the dance floor, the bass pulsed through the room, the rhythm syncopating with her heartbeat. Magical lights strobed across the crowd, turning strangers into shifting, writhing shadows. Max’s arm was wrapped firmly around her waist, with one of her hands on his shoulder, the other caught in the steel of his grip as they moved together.

  “Why,” she hissed through clenched teeth, “did you tell him we were mates?”

  “Ye were nae wearing a wedding ring or an engagement ring. He could argue with that. But mate? No sane person would debate that.” Max’s voice was low…intimate as they twirled together.

  “I know that. But why say it at all?”

  Max leaned down, his breath brushing against the shell of her ear, making her shiver. “What else was I supposed to say? That some other guy was yer mate—while I had my arms around ye?”

  Her lips parted and then closed again. Gods, she sounded ridiculous.

  Still, the word clung to her skin. Mate. Like it was something that should have belonged, but slid off her skin the way water beads and rolls from an oiled surface.

  The ballroom hummed with magic, power seeping into the air, the lights, the music. What was it about this place, this night, that made everything sharper, harder to ignore?

  The song ended, and they stepped off the dance floor, moving into the relative quiet of another hallway. Behind them, Nigel was still staring, his gaze like a weight between her shoulder blades. Funny how he had rewritten the past: in his version, she had abandoned him. His cheating hadn’t entered his story at all; his desire to sleep his way to the top at the expense of her heart had clearly been forgotten.

  Max and Tamsin headed toward another room when Max stopped abruptly. Looking up, Tamsin drew in a sharp breath as a woman came to a halt in front of them, her velvet gown the deep midnight blue of a moonless sky. Her wide skirt skimmed the ground, the neckline daring but not too revealing. The woman’s ears had the delicate points of the fae, her dark hair twisted up to reveal a long throat dusted in silver shimmer.

 

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