Harlequin Nocturne May 2015 Box Set: Wolf Hunter\Possessed by a Wolf (35 page)

Lexie broke the kiss and sat back on her heels. For an instant, Faran seemed surprised but he followed her lead. His blue gaze lingered over her every movement, as if watching for cues. She picked up her wine, ignoring the slight tremor in her fingers that made the red liquid quiver against the glass.

“I think I'm ready for some of that food,” she said lightly, praying he'd understand.

“Whatever you're ready for is fine,” he said. “This is just the appetizer.”

Chapter 12

“G
reat fuzzy balls,” said Faran, surveying the main banquet room of the palace

When royals partied, they did it on a grand scale. The kings had at last returned from the countryside, the final treaty arrangements in hand. After that much negotiation, only a world-class shindig would do. About seven hundred guests were finding their seats now, and it wasn't a quiet process despite the formal wear and good breeding.

“If I ever get married,” Faran said to Chloe just loudly enough so that she could hear, “it's going to involve takeout and paper plates.”

They stood near one set of huge double doors, watching the guests mill and eddy like colorful fish in a sea of pink marble and white damask cloths. Wheel-shaped crystal chandeliers sparkled above the tables like elegant spaceships. A small chamber orchestra was playing at the far end of the room, but Faran couldn't hear them over the crowd. It was going to take an army of cooks and servers to get five courses out and that didn't include the wines. Just thinking about the organization required made his head hurt.

Almost as much as wondering what plots were being woven beneath the veneer of genteel civility. After everything that had happened—the mayhem at the reception, the theft of the ring and the attack by Gillon—Faran would have called the whole thing off. Sure there was money at stake, but what about lives?

But nobody asked a wolf.

Chloe stuck out her tongue. “If you get married, I'm going to get rich off all the bets I've placed with your coworkers.”

“Say what?” Faran tried to remember what they'd been talking about.

She thwacked his arm with the back of her hand. “You put on a good act, but you're the least confirmed bachelor I know.”

He winced. The events of last night and this morning had left him feeling raw both for himself and Lexie. After all this time, she had finally opened up about her family, and now he understood why she had issues with trust. It was going to take time to work through her past. “If that's true, then why am I not hitched already?”

“Because only one woman will do for you, and she's right over there.” Chloe nodded toward Lexie, who was deep in conversation with the chief of security for the event.

Faran grimaced, but held his tongue. He'd finally begun to understand much of importance, but nothing was going to be solved overnight. He was no psychologist, but Lexie could still cut and run in an instant.

“What's wrong?” Chloe asked, suddenly losing her light tone.

He shoved his hands in the pockets of his perfectly tailored suit. “Nothing.”

That earned him a sidelong look from the pretty blonde. “Lexie's my dearest friend. She talks a good line but she needs someone steady. That's why I'm rooting for you.”

“You are?” He wondered how much Chloe knew about Justin.

Chloe's gaze slid away. “I'm a romantic. And I've got fifty dollars with Mark Winspear that says you'll have a ring on Lexie's finger by Christmas.”

Faran made a derisive noise. Vampires were the worst gossips he knew. “You remember she dumped me, right?”

“Where's your fighting spirit?” Chloe chided. “I thought you were a contender.”

Faran shrugged. Chloe's faith pleased him, but he wasn't ready to give anything away. “Let's just say I'm playing a long game.”

“Just stay in the game, okay?”

The conversation ended there because Lexie was coming their way. She was wearing a silky pantsuit and had her wealth of fiery hair pinned up. She looked amazing.

“All set?” Chloe asked her.

“Absolutely,” Lexie replied, her tone calm and confident. “Mr. Security Maven is very eager to limit what can and can't be photographed. I think he'd rather I wasn't here at all.”

“Yeah, well, he's already nixed the videographer,” Chloe grumbled.

“Once everyone's seated, I'll start by taking some wide shots. He's not keen on it but it's good to have them for reference.”

“I agree. I don't know what the problem is,” said Chloe. “You're the best compromise between no coverage of this and full-on press mayhem.”

Lexie nodded. “How do you want me to fit in with the event schedule?”

“You need to get the personal shots done by the time the meal is over. I need you set up and in place to photograph the speeches. And get some shots of Amelie wearing the ring on her necklace. It's got a nice romantic touch, like she can't wait to wear it.”

“Yes, ma'am,” Lexie said.

“Just remember I handpicked you for glory.” Chloe kissed Lexie's cheek and left them. “Remember, all personal shots done by the time dinner is over.”

Lexie shot Faran a slightly wild-eyed look. “Do you know how many people are on that list? That girl doesn't want much.”

“And yet she pretends to be so sweet,” Faran said regretfully.

Lexie's hazel eyes looked unusually green, as if her inner fires were burning bright. “I'm glad you're here.”

For an instant, he could see how vulnerable their recent conversations had left her. Her protective shell was still in place, but it had cracked and he'd caught a glimpse of the chaos inside. He ran his thumb down her cheek, caressing the curl of hair that escaped her messy bun. His fingers brushed the pulse of her throat, and it was beating fast. There was too much emotion between them for such a public place.

Faran brushed a kiss across her lips. He didn't care what others thought. Lexie was all that mattered. “I'm glad to be here. Tell me what to do.”

She cocked an eyebrow. “Just follow me and don't photo bomb King Renault.”

His role turned out to be playing fetch and carry with an endless array of awkward, expensive equipment. He listened with half an ear to the surrounding conversations, hoping for useful scraps of information, but the real perk was watching Lexie. Her graceful motions, the bend and flex of her body, were mesmerizing. Yet that was not what transfixed him most. It was the intense concentration she gave every photograph. Lexie hunted her images the way a wolf hunted prey. That much precision and focus was compelling, even sexy.

He'd kept his wolf on a leash, giving her space and coaxing her to trust him again, but the beast inside was growing impatient. A good alpha respected the needs of his pack, doing his best to give each member what they needed to thrive. But Faran wanted Lexie and, as he watched her bend over to get the best shot of a centerpiece, he nearly lost command of human language.

Once Lexie was done with general shots of the event, they moved on to a list of individuals. Given the importance of the occasion, there were a lot of guests who wanted their picture taken that night, either for posterity or in hopes of making the gossip pages. Maurice was one of them. He sat at one end of the high table, next to an elderly duke and duchess. At first Faran thought the musician had worn a traditional black tuxedo, but as Maurice lifted his glass of water, the motion revealed the fabric was shot with a sparkling scarlet thread.

“Don't you know it's bad manners to upstage the bride?” Faran asked under his breath while Lexie took a shot of the older couple.

Maurice set down his glass and looked up. He grinned. “Why, if it isn't my prison buddy. Sit a moment. My date has fluttered off to chat with friends and I'm bereft of companionship. Such is the fleeting reward of fame.”

Faran sat as Lexie moved on to her next subject. “At least you get fed. Tonight, I'm the photographer's pack mule.”

Maurice laughed. “Ah, you're working while everyone else eats. I've played that gig before.”

Faran returned Maurice's smile. “I see Valois let you out unscathed.”

“Well, they've found the wretched ring now.”

“I heard the princess mislaid it,” Faran said casually.

Maurice raised an eyebrow. “I find it hard to believe Princess Amelie would be that careless. Who knows what happened, but hurrah if it keeps Valois happy.”

“I'll go along with that,” Faran said, noncommittal. “I'm not a fan of guards with guns.”

Maurice waved sparkling nails. “There wasn't much Valois could do to me in the first place. They searched my rooms. There was nothing of interest to find.”

“You did mention naughty schoolgirls.”

Maurice quirked one corner of his mouth. “I plead innocent. Even I know that young lady was too young for me. Maybe she was the one who made the security bloke faint dead away. Valois was very interested in that detail.”

A tendril of suspicion wound through Faran's thoughts. He rummaged in Lexie's bag for her cell phone and thumbed open the photo she'd taken of Gillon. “Is this the guard?”

Maurice looked at the picture while Lexie snapped another barrage of shots a few seats away. The flash and whirr of the camera barely made a dent in the noisy, glittering atmosphere. “Gods. That's him all right, but he's not coming back to us, is he?” Maurice returned the phone, his face pale.

“I hope not. Any idea why he passed out?” Faran asked. “Did he eat or drink anything in your room?”

“I'll tell you what I told Valois,” Maurice replied, still obviously shaken. “He complained about being thirsty. I was out of bottled water, so I gave him an energy drink. He must have had an allergic reaction to it.”

An image of dissolving flesh slithered through Faran's imagination. “Maybe.”

Maurice shrugged. “He recovered after a few minutes and the other guards took him away.”

“What kind of energy drink?”

“One of those all-natural vegetable ones. Tastes like lawn clippings, but it packs a vitamin wallop. You should try it.”

“I'm more of a carnivore.”

A server came by with a plate for the fish course. Faran sniffed. His sense of smell and taste was far better than any human's and he'd outstripped every other student in the chef's academy when it came to identifying ingredients in a dish. It didn't take much effort to identify pan-seared scallops with green beans amandine in a light sauce of seasoned oil, lemon and dill.

Maurice waved it away. “Speaking of allergies, I don't eat seafood.”

After the server left, Maurice leaned close. “Why are you asking questions?”

Faran considered. Sometimes he had to go with animal instinct. “I'm doing a little undercover security work,” he said in a low voice.

“Ah. Does Cousin Kyle know?”

“Yes, he knows,” Faran replied, remembering what Lexie had said about the musician being a relation to the royals.

“Okay.” Maurice took another sip of water. No wine, Faran noticed. He took his vitamins seriously. “If you need anything else, let me know.”

Lexie had worked her way down the table, so Faran said goodbye to Maurice and rose to follow. He glanced at the dish the other guests were eating, idly thinking the sauce too heavy on the lemon. Scallops of that quality shouldn't be bullied on the plate—but he forgot about that the moment he caught up with Lexie. She was trying to take a picture of the Vidonese royals, which should have been easy. The high table only had seating on one side, allowing the public full view of their monarchs and Lexie a clear shot. Unfortunately, not everyone was happy about it.

Faran had never seen King Targon of Vidon in person before. He was a stern, sturdy man with iron-gray hair and the same handsome features as his sons. “I don't understand the need to have our dinner interrupted by photographers,” Targon grumped. “This is a serious occasion. Court protocol should be observed.”

“It is the new way, Father,” said Prince Kyle, who sat between his father and Amelie. His tone said they'd had this conversation many times before. “The public likes their royals accessible.”

Lexie took a cautious snap, leaving the flash off. “One more, Your Majesty, if you don't mind.”

“I do mind.” King Targon waved a dismissive hand. “Laundromats are accessible. I am a crowned head of state and I am eating my dinner. Go away. No one needs to see me chewing.”

King Renault of Marcari, younger and quieter than his counterpart, endured the camera with more grace. From time to time, he touched his daughter's hand, as if reassuring himself that she was safe. The king had sent the Company away as a goodwill gesture for the wedding and Faran wondered if he was regretting it now.

“May I take a photo of Your Handsome Highnesses together?” Lexie coaxed Leo and Kyle. “For the ladies?”

Kyle wiped his mouth with his napkin while Leo gave her an assessing look. The younger prince gave a silky smile. “It hardly seems fair that you take our picture and yet I get nothing from you. One sweet deserves another, Ms. Haven.”

“Leo,” Kyle said in a warning tone.

“Be careful what you ask for, Prince Leopold,” Lexie replied. “Cameras always tell the truth.”

Leo's eyes narrowed. “You promised to join me for dinner before you took my picture.”

Faran bristled but Lexie stepped on his foot. She clearly wanted to handle things her own way. He folded his arms and scowled.

“That's not how I remember the conversation,” Lexie replied. “But here I am, at your dinner. Does that please Your Highness?”

“You're being tiresome, Leopold,” King Targon said, tearing a dinner roll in two. “Let her take a photograph and move on. This is unseemly.”

“Relax, Father, I'm being
accessible
. I'm inviting the lovely media content provider to dine.” With a smug expression, Leo snapped his fingers. “A chair for the lady.”

“Stop this,” said Kyle, clearly irritated.

On alert, Faran caught Renault's eye, and the king of Marcari gave a slight nod, telling him to let the scene play out. That seemed too much to ask, especially after what Faran had learned about Lexie's brother. Faran guessed there were similarities between Prince Leo and her brother—a need to control, a pleasure in watching a victim squirm. Faran's skin crawled with the need to change and sink his fangs into Leo's throat.