start. I’ve already arranged a house for you in Georgetown. I had something a little more spectacular set aside for Khan, but I think it’s too much for your purposes.”
“I like hotels,” she corrected with a lazy shake of her head. “The Hay-Adams.”
“You’ll live in a house this time.” He put the keys in the ignition.
Her color warmed. “That’s not my style.”
“A hotel is not an option,” he said. “What if your treachery is discovered? What of the hotel’s other patrons?”
She flushed.
Angry? Too bad. The whole point of this venture, for him at least, was the preservation of humankind.
“You’ll need a client right away,” Jack pressed on. “Any ideas? I’d prefer not to coerce anyone to use your services.” He’d known the line between right and wrong would gray many times before this business was over. He hadn’t anticipated that it would begin so dark.
“I have someone I can contact, a senator,” Kaye answered, still displeased. “She’s used me before.” She paused, those heavy lids lowering a little. “And where will you be during all this fun?”
Jack could have explained, but a demonstration would work better. He held his breath to get it just right. He focused on the cells that made up his body: the tissue, bone, and fluid. And from all that matter, he withdrew his angel’s light, his spark of divinity. He stuffed himself down inside his core and bottled it. Put a stopper on his soul.
Kaye’s eyes widened at the effect, and he knew what she saw: a regular man with his features, his dark hair, blue eyes, his slightly crooked nose. Just a man. No one, not even a mage, would be able to tell he was an angel.
Where would he be during all this fun? He started the car.
“Right by your side.”
Chapter 3
Upon entering the library, Ferrol Grey spotted the naked woman—Gail Meallan, a tempest mage—lying in a provocative sideways twist on the red settee next to the fireplace. Flowing ebony hair, ruddy tits, interestingly hairless at the juncture of her legs. Since it was his library, he assumed she was waiting for him. The ambush was brazen, considering his house had other guests for the upcoming Council meetings. Finally, the good stuff was happening. The waiting was over.
“Excuse me,” he said, retrieving the mage history he was after, and exited.
No seductions today, thanks. House women came in three sorts: viper (Ms. Meallan), broken (under the thumb of her House), and honorable (stayed clear of House politics, therefore stayed clear of Grey House).
Once upon a time, he’d been married to an honorable woman. Penny’s support had made his strong House stronger, hence the rise of the Greys. He did not begrudge her memory that triumph. Credit was due. He hadn’t known what he was doing to her until it was too late. Hadn’t known that it would leave him without heirs as well. His next wife would have to be stronger. Much stronger.
However, in this, his second life, the honorable mage women declined his advances. It seemed cold iron was as anathema to them as it was to the fae, though he was descended from those beings himself too. He wanted little Greys running around and stirring up Shadow. At least the Council meetings would be an excellent opportunity to gauge prospects. To show the honorables that he really wasn’t that bad. And if he was, he’d embrace their better influence.
Honor was power, as true as the iron of his House. One couldn’t trust viper or broken.
For damn certain, his children would not come from the womb of Gail Meallan. If she thought that seducing him would make him blind to the business in Galveston, she was mistaken. Meallan could not have Galveston; it was promised already in the parcel allotted to Wright House, and not for two years yet.
He moved back down the hallway to his private office, glancing at his watch. Twenty minutes to spare. The Shadows swirled as he passed, lifting those ever-present, incomprehensible fae
“I like hotels,” she corrected with a lazy shake of her head. “The Hay-Adams.”
“You’ll live in a house this time.” He put the keys in the ignition.
Her color warmed. “That’s not my style.”
“A hotel is not an option,” he said. “What if your treachery is discovered? What of the hotel’s other patrons?”
She flushed.
Angry? Too bad. The whole point of this venture, for him at least, was the preservation of humankind.
“You’ll need a client right away,” Jack pressed on. “Any ideas? I’d prefer not to coerce anyone to use your services.” He’d known the line between right and wrong would gray many times before this business was over. He hadn’t anticipated that it would begin so dark.
“I have someone I can contact, a senator,” Kaye answered, still displeased. “She’s used me before.” She paused, those heavy lids lowering a little. “And where will you be during all this fun?”
Jack could have explained, but a demonstration would work better. He held his breath to get it just right. He focused on the cells that made up his body: the tissue, bone, and fluid. And from all that matter, he withdrew his angel’s light, his spark of divinity. He stuffed himself down inside his core and bottled it. Put a stopper on his soul.
Kaye’s eyes widened at the effect, and he knew what she saw: a regular man with his features, his dark hair, blue eyes, his slightly crooked nose. Just a man. No one, not even a mage, would be able to tell he was an angel.
Where would he be during all this fun? He started the car.
“Right by your side.”
Chapter 3
Upon entering the library, Ferrol Grey spotted the naked woman—Gail Meallan, a tempest mage—lying in a provocative sideways twist on the red settee next to the fireplace. Flowing ebony hair, ruddy tits, interestingly hairless at the juncture of her legs. Since it was his library, he assumed she was waiting for him. The ambush was brazen, considering his house had other guests for the upcoming Council meetings. Finally, the good stuff was happening. The waiting was over.
“Excuse me,” he said, retrieving the mage history he was after, and exited.
No seductions today, thanks. House women came in three sorts: viper (Ms. Meallan), broken (under the thumb of her House), and honorable (stayed clear of House politics, therefore stayed clear of Grey House).
Once upon a time, he’d been married to an honorable woman. Penny’s support had made his strong House stronger, hence the rise of the Greys. He did not begrudge her memory that triumph. Credit was due. He hadn’t known what he was doing to her until it was too late. Hadn’t known that it would leave him without heirs as well. His next wife would have to be stronger. Much stronger.
However, in this, his second life, the honorable mage women declined his advances. It seemed cold iron was as anathema to them as it was to the fae, though he was descended from those beings himself too. He wanted little Greys running around and stirring up Shadow. At least the Council meetings would be an excellent opportunity to gauge prospects. To show the honorables that he really wasn’t that bad. And if he was, he’d embrace their better influence.
Honor was power, as true as the iron of his House. One couldn’t trust viper or broken.
For damn certain, his children would not come from the womb of Gail Meallan. If she thought that seducing him would make him blind to the business in Galveston, she was mistaken. Meallan could not have Galveston; it was promised already in the parcel allotted to Wright House, and not for two years yet.
He moved back down the hallway to his private office, glancing at his watch. Twenty minutes to spare. The Shadows swirled as he passed, lifting those ever-present, incomprehensible fae
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