Deadly Sting

4

I leaned forward, until my nose was almost pressed against the glass, and studied every single millimeter of the runes. The pendants weren’t polished to a high gloss like everything else on view was. Rather, the chains they hung on were blackened, and what looked like streaks of soot and bits of ash clung to the surface of the silverstone runes, as though they’d once been in a fire and had never been properly cleaned.

They’d been in fire, all right—Mab’s murderous elemental blaze.

Mab . . . Mab must have taken my mother and my sister’s rune necklaces after she’d killed them that horrible night. I’d thought that the pendants had been buried in the rubble after I’d used my Ice and Stone magic to collapse the mansion on top of us all; or perhaps they had been pilfered by looters later on. But somehow Mab had gotten her grubby, greedy hands on them. She’d had the runes all these years, and now here they were, on display for everyone in Ashland to see, like a—like a damn trophy celebrating my family’s murder.

I’d thought by killing Mab that I was finally free of her, that I was finally done with her, and that she couldn’t shock, surprise, or hurt me anymore. I’d even gone to her funeral and said my piece to her ebony casket. But once again, the Fire elemental had managed to reach out from beyond the grave and mess with me.

Shock, anger, rage, hate. Those emotions surged through my body, matching the sudden, rapid, painful thump of my heart. For a moment, I considered using my magic to harden my fist so I could punch right through the thick glass. It would feel good, so fucking good, to smash the glass and grab the runes. Because they were mine—mine and Bria’s—and I’d be damned if Mab or the museum was keeping them.

But I forced myself to slow my ragged breathing and calm my racing heart. No, I couldn’t do that. There were too many security cameras in here for me to get away with such a crude smash-and-grab job. The guards would swarm me en masse, and I’d end up like the dwarf at the Posh boutique—bloody, beaten, handcuffed, and escorted off the premises by the esteemed members of the po-po.

No, this would require a different approach—a nice, quiet, after-hours visit to the museum. I wasn’t leaving these last few precious pieces of my family behind.

I turned around to find Finn and tell him about the runes—and came face-to-face with Owen Grayson.

My breath caught in my throat.

Perhaps absence really did make the heart grow fonder, because I couldn’t stop staring at my former lover. Black hair, intense violet eyes, a slightly crooked nose, a faint scar on his chin. I drank in the sight of his rugged features before my eyes traced over his broad shoulders and then down his muscled chest. The tuxedo he wore only made him look even more handsome and perfectly outlined the raw strength of his body.

Owen’s eyes widened, and he almost lost his grip on his champagne flute before he clenched his fingers around it once more. He seemed as surprised to see me as I was to see him.

“Hi,” he finally said in a soft, cautious voice.

“Hi yourself.”

We stood there staring at each other for what seemed like forever, although I was ticking off the seconds in my head the way I always did. Ten . . . twenty . . . thirty . . .

Finally, at the forty-five-second mark, Owen cleared his throat. “I didn’t expect to see you here tonight.”

“Finn dragged me along. He said he wanted to come see all of Mab’s treasures, but really, I think he just wanted to socialize with his clients. He’s here somewhere, schmoozing the night away.”

Owen smiled a little at that, and we fell silent again. The other guests swirled around us like dancers, talking, laughing, and drinking champagne, but the trill of their voices and the clink-clink-clink of glasses seemed distant and far away. All I was aware of was Owen. The way the soft white lights brought out the sheen of blue in his dark hair. The faint laugh lines at the corners of his eyes. The warmth of his body reaching out toward my own. Even his rich scent, the one that always made me think of metal. I noticed all that and more—so much more.

We hadn’t spoken since that day at the Pork Pit when we’d agreed to take a break, and there were so many things I wanted to say to him, so many things I wanted to tell him. It wasn’t only our romance we’d put on hold, but our friendship too. I loved Owen, but I also loved just talking to him—telling him about my day, hearing about his, sharing a laugh or a joke or a funny story one of us had heard. I’d lost not only my lover but also one of my best friends and confidants. I missed him, terribly.

“So . . . how have you been?” he asked. “Because you look—you look amazing.”

His gaze trailed down my scarlet dress, and a bit of heat flashed in his eyes. I was suddenly very glad that Finn had dragged me out shopping and made me come here tonight.

“Thank you,” I said. “You look good too. Better than good, actually. It’s nice just to . . . see you.”

Another smile flickered across his face, this one a little brighter. “Well, it’s good to be seen, especially by you.”

We fell silent once more, still staring at each other, both of us wondering what to say, wondering how to break through the polite chitchat and talk about the things that really mattered, the problems we had, and where we went from here—

“Owen!” a voice called out. “There you are!”

A woman emerged from the crowd and strode over to us. She shot Owen a dazzling smile, then smoothly threaded her arm through his like it was something she’d done a dozen times before. My heart clenched at the sight, but I forced myself to stay calm and study her. She wasn’t as beautiful as some of the other women here tonight, but she knew how to play up her features. Smoke-black shadow rimmed her eyes, making them seem darker and larger than they really were, while the soft waves of her dark brown hair just tickled her shoulders, drawing attention to her toned arms and back.

“I thought I’d lost you. I’ve been looking everywhere for you.” She smiled up at him again, then turned toward me. “Who are you talking to? You’ll have to introduce me—”

Her words died on her red lips, and she did a double take, her eyes widening with surprise. It took me a second to realize that she wasn’t reacting to how close I was standing to Owen or the tension simmering between us. Oh, no. There was a far more serious reason for her horrified expression.

I had on the exact same dress she did.

Fitted top, cinched waist, flowing skirt. Her scarlet gown was identical to mine, right down to the teardrop-shaped crystals that sparked and flashed beneath the white lights. My gaze dropped to her feet, which were peeking out from beneath the edge of her skirt. She even had on the same color shoes as I did, although she’d gone all out and opted for the four-inch stilettos.

“Owen?” the woman asked.

“Sorry,” he said, finally glancing away from me. “I got . . . distracted and lost sight of you. I’ve been looking for you too.”

Oh. So that’s why he’d been behind me. Some small part of me had thought—no, hoped—that Owen had seen me from across the room and had come over to me on his own. But he’d really been searching for another woman the whole time, and the dress had only fooled him. Well, that and the fact that the mystery woman and I were roughly the same height. I supposed we even looked a little alike from the back, since we both were wearing our dark hair down loose around our shoulders. A simple mistake, but it still made bitterness burn in my throat all the same.

She kept staring at me, and I at her, both of us sizing each other up the way women so often do.

Owen cleared his throat and made the introductions. “Gin, this is Jillian Delancey, a business associate of mine from Atlanta. Jillian, this is Gin Blanco—”

“An old friend,” I interrupted him, and held out my hand to her.

I wasn’t sure what Owen had been about to say about me, whether I was merely a friend or an ex or something else entirely, but I didn’t want to find out. Not like this, anyway.

Still, the irony of the situation cut me like one of my own knives. The last time Owen had introduced me to a woman, it had been Salina, whom I’d had to kill. At the time, he’d failed to mention that she was his ex-fiancée. I wondered what sort of relationship he had with Jillian—if they’d been lovers in the past or if this was new.

Because it was obvious she wanted to start up something with him. I could tell by the way her hand tightened on his arm as she stepped even closer to him. Plus, the shoes were a dead giveaway. Women didn’t wear heels like that because they were comfortable. They wore them because of the way they made their legs look long and lean—and made men salivate over them.

Was Owen—could he be—were they out on a date?

My stomach twisted at the thought of Owen with someone else. That he might have already moved on without even telling me. That our relationship might be well and truly dead. The idea hurt so much that I couldn’t even breathe for a second.

But the shock of the moment passed, and the jagged, broken pieces of my heart kept right on beating just like they always did, even if every steady thump-thump-thump brought a fresh wave of pain along with it.

Despite my treacherous, unwanted, seesawing emotions, I decided to be gracious about things. Acting the bitch wouldn’t help matters. Besides, Jo-Jo had taught me better manners than that.

Gin Blanco. The Spider. Notorious assassin. Polite to a fault.

“Love your dress,” I joked.

Jillian smoothed down the fabric of her skirt. “Oh, yeah. Yours too.”

We both laughed, but my voice sounded hard and brittle—just like my heart.

The three of us stood there, shifting on our feet, not sure what to say to each other to break the silence that was growing more strained and awkward by the second. I glanced around the rotunda, hoping Finn was nearby so I could excuse myself more easily. It took me several seconds, but I finally spotted my foster brother—and he wasn’t alone.

Three other people stood with him. One was a tall, strong-looking man with blond hair that was slicked back into a ponytail. The other two were women, one young, only twenty, with dark hair and blue eyes, the other older but even more beautiful, with black hair and toffee-colored eyes and skin. Phillip Kincaid, Eva Grayson, and Roslyn Phillips. Familiar faces, since Phillip was Owen’s best friend, Eva was his younger sister, and Roslyn was another member of my extended family.

Owen noticed me looking past him and turned to see what I was so interested in.

“Eva’s here with me and Jillian,” he explained, facing me once more. “We all rode over together with Phillip and Roslyn.”

I nodded. Finn had told me that Roslyn was coming to the exhibit with someone else, since Xavier, her significant other, had to work tonight along with Bria. I just hadn’t thought that someone else would be Phillip. Then again, Roslyn owned Northern Aggression, the city’s most decadent nightclub. She knew everyone who was anyone in Ashland, including all of the underworld players like Kincaid.

Finn must have felt me staring at him, because he glanced in my direction. He started to look away but stopped and did a double take just as Jillian had. He stared at her a moment, then at me, his eyes flicking back and forth between our identical dresses.

Owen hesitated. “Actually, the reason Eva, Phillip, Jillian, and I are all here is that Finn gave me several extra tickets for the gala. He said that someone had given a bunch of them to him at his bank and he didn’t want us to miss out on the exhibit. He also said to think of it as part of his apology to me for everything that . . . happened between us.”

That everything had included Finn holding a gun on Owen while I cut Salina’s throat. Needless to say, Owen had been plenty pissed about that, mostly at me, for asking Finn to do such a thing in the first place. Still, it didn’t surprise me that he’d talked to my foster brother and had taken the tickets from him. Finnegan Lane could be exceptionally persuasive when he put his mind to it. Besides, what had happened that night had been my doing, no one else’s. The responsibility, the burden of that, was mine to bear, and so was the guilt.

“Did he, now?” I murmured. “How considerate of him.”

Finn had been so insistent that I come to the exhibit that I hadn’t thought too much about exactly why he wanted me here in the first place. Oh, sure, he’d said that Bria was busy and that he wanted to get me out of the house and have some fun, but I was beginning to think he’d had an ulterior motive in mind. Getting me and Owen into the same space was exactly the sort of sneaky, underhanded thing Finn would do and then claim it was for my own good. I loved my foster brother, truly I did, but sometimes his cheerful meddling made me want to wring his neck.

This was one of those times.

“Well,” I said, giving Owen and Jillian a bright smile. “Please excuse me. I really need to go see what Finn is up to. Jillian, it was nice to meet you.”

“You too,” she replied.

I looked at my lover, careful to keep my face blank. “Owen.”

“Gin.”

I nodded at him, and he returned the gesture.

And that was that. Nothing else was said, nothing else was done, and nothing had changed between us. I wondered if this was the extent of my relationship with Owen now—cool, distant, polite, impersonal. I wondered if this was all we would ever be now.

My heart clenched at the thought, but I forced myself to smile at the two of them a final time. My teeth ground together and my cheeks ached from the strain, but I managed to keep the expression fixed on my face until I stepped past them. Then I walked away, leaving them to their date.

I strode through the crowd, the sharp snap-snap-snap of my heels against the floor as loud as a series of firecrackers exploding, my wintry gray glare fixed on one man—Finnegan fucking Lane.

He saw me coming and edged behind Eva. Please. As if that would save him. Still, I stopped when I reached the group and addressed everyone in turn.

“Roslyn, you’re looking as lovely as ever. You too, Eva. Phillip, nice to see you.”

The three of them murmured polite greetings to me. I looked past Eva and stared at Finn, who was still keeping the younger woman between the two of us.

“Why, Finn,” I drawled in a voice that was as sugary-sweet as the summer sun tea I made on Fletcher’s front porch. “I didn’t realize you’d asked some of our friends to come here tonight too. You are just full of surprises.”

Finn eyed me over Eva’s slender shoulder. “So,” he replied in a voice that was just as easy and unconcerned as mine, “are you planning on killing me right here in the middle of the rotunda?”

I gave him a cool, murderous smile. “Sorry to disappoint, but I rather like the rotunda just the way it is, without your blood decorating the walls. It would be a shame to dirty up all this pretty gray marble, don’t you think?”

“Absolutely,” he agreed. “Personally, I like my blood right where it is, inside my body.”

“Besides, it would be so much easier to stab you to death in the parking lot, stuff you into the trunk, stop your car at the entrance to the covered bridge, and heave your dead carcass into the Aneirin River. No muss, no fuss, and no evidence for the cops to find when they finally fish your bloated, rotting corpse out of the water.”

He winced. “I take it things didn’t go well with Owen?”

“No, things did not go well with Owen, unless you think stilted sentences and awkward pauses are the signs of a successful couple.” I glared at Finn. “What were you thinking? I can’t believe you didn’t tell me Owen was coming tonight—and that you’d purposefully invited him.”

Finn kept wincing, but he didn’t answer me. Roslyn and Phillip exchanged a puzzled look, but it was Eva’s reaction that caught my eye. She bit her lip and looked down at the floor, a guilty expression on her face if ever there was one. She glanced up, realized that I was staring at her, and let out a small sigh.

“Actually, it wasn’t really Finn’s idea,” Eva admitted. “I was the one who suggested it.”

“And why would you do that?”

She sighed again. “Because it’s been almost a month since Salina’s death, and you and Owen haven’t seen each other in weeks. You haven’t even spoken, as far as I know.”

She was right about that, not that I told her so.

“I agree with Eva,” Kincaid chimed in. “You and Owen need to at least start talking again.”

“About what?” I asked, turning to face him. “How I slit Salina’s throat right in front of him? Even though he asked me not to? Or maybe we should talk about how I told Finn to hold him back and how you helped with that? It’s easy for you to tell me to start talking to Owen, especially since it seems like he’s forgiven you, Finn, and everyone else for what happened—everyone except me, that is.”

This time, Kincaid was the one who winced at my harsh words. Still, he didn’t back down. “Salina’s gone, Gin, and I say good riddance to her. But you and Owen are still here. The two of you care about each other, quite deeply, from what I’ve seen. If I were you, I’d be doing my best to fix things between the two of you.”

I arched an eyebrow. “I don’t really think you’re in a position to be giving me relationship advice, Philly,” I said, using Eva’s childhood nickname for him. “Although I’m glad to see you’re here tonight with someone who’s age-appropriate. You are here with Roslyn, right? And not someone else?”

Anger simmered in Kincaid’s blue eyes, and his jaw clenched, making his chiseled cheekbones stand out more. Not too long ago, I’d told Kincaid that I knew he was not-so-secretly in love with Eva. Phillip had helped Eva and Owen when the three of them had been living on the streets as kids, and he’d told me that Eva was the first person who’d ever cared about him. That was why he loved her, even though he was my age, thirty, and about ten years older than her.

Eva looked back and forth between me and Phillip, her brow furrowed, obviously wondering what I was talking about.

I sighed. Just because my love life was on the skids was no reason for me to take my anger and frustration out on everyone else, especially my friends.

“I’m sorry,” I said. “It’s just that seeing Owen took me by surprise. Especially since he’s here with someone else tonight.”

We all turned to look at the pair in question. Owen was staring blankly at a watercolor that depicted a snowstorm. Jillian stood by his side, murmuring something to him, her arm still threaded through his. I had to admit that she wore the scarlet gown a lot better than I did. They made a handsome couple, Owen dark and rugged in his tux, Jillian like a flash of fire next to him. Sadness filled me, but I tried to ignore the sensation.

“That was the other reason I asked Finn to get you to come tonight,” Eva said. “Jillian.”

“What’s wrong with her?”

She hesitated. “Well, nothing, really. Except for the fact that she’s not you.”

I sighed again, then reached out and gave her arm a gentle squeeze. “I appreciate that, Eva, really, I do. But if Owen wants to move on and date other people, then that’s his right.”

No matter how much it hurts. I didn’t have to say the words. They could all see the pain glinting in my eyes.

We fell silent for a few moments before Kincaid cleared his throat.

“Well, I don’t know about you ladies, but I’m feeling a little parched. Can I get you anything to drink?”

Roslyn and I both politely declined, but Eva stepped over and smiled up at him, her face as bright, warm, and happy as a sunny day.

“I’ll go with you, Philly,” she said.

Eva had her back to me, so she didn’t see me arch my eyebrow at Kincaid again. He noticed, though. A faint blush crept up his cheeks, but he still held out his arm to the younger woman.

“I would be delighted to be escorted by you, Eva,” he said.

Eva giggled and took his arm, and Roslyn, Finn, and I watched them head toward the elemental Ice bar that had been set up on the opposite side of the rotunda.

“Well, I suppose I don’t have to worry about Phillip hitting on me on the ride home tonight,” Roslyn said. “He’s crazy about that girl.”

“I know. Problem is, she’s still a girl.”

Roslyn gave me a sidelong glance. “Not that much of one. Not the way she’s looking at him.”

I snorted. “Tell that to Owen when he finds out. Phillip might be his friend, but Eva’s still his baby sister. He’s not going to be happy with anyone she dates, especially not Kincaid, given all his underworld connections and business interests.”

I looked at her.

“Why are you here tonight with Phillip, anyway? I didn’t realize you knew him.”

Roslyn shrugged. “We have business from time to time. Occasionally, he hires out some of my guys and girls for events on his riverboat. Xavier’s also moonlighted for him as a guard at the casino on occasion.”

She was talking about the Delta Queen, the luxe riverboat casino Kincaid owned. It was docked not too far away from Briartop Island. The guys and girls she was referring to were the hookers she employed at Northern Aggression. Roslyn had been a hooker herself, working the Southtown streets for years like so many vampires did, before she’d saved up enough money to open up her own gin joint.

“Sometimes I think you know more people than Finn does,” I murmured.

“Impossible,” Finn scoffed, grabbing another glass of champagne from a passing giant waiter. “I know everyone who’s anyone, everyone who wants to be someone, and everyone who’s not anyone too.”

I snorted. Roslyn laughed, showing off her small pearl-white fangs.

While Finn grabbed some bite-size deep-fried macaroni and cheese hors d’oeuvres from another waiter, Roslyn put her hand on my arm.

“So how are you really holding up?” she asked, her dark eyes full of sympathy and concern.

I shrugged. “Just taking it day by day. Although coming here tonight and seeing Owen with someone else hasn’t exactly done wonders for my confidence that we can work through our issues.”

The vampire stared across the room, studying the couple. “Oh, she’s definitely interested in him, all right. Anyone can see that from her body language, the way she’s smiling at him, how close she’s standing to him, the way she’s keeping hold of his arm as they wander around the room. But I don’t think Owen is into her at all.”

“Why not?”

She turned back to me. “Because he keeps sneaking looks at you.”

Hope surged through me at her words—bright, beautiful, shining hope. But then I heard Jillian laugh and Owen chuckling along with her, and the happy emotion was snuffed out like a candle flame being doused by a blizzard. Owen might be looking in my direction every once in a while, but he was still here with another woman.

“It’ll be okay, Gin,” Roslyn said, picking up on my darkening mood. “You’ll see. You and Owen care about each other too much not to work things out eventually.”

I let out a breath. “Even though I killed his first love?”

The vampire shrugged her slender shoulders. For all she knew about men and women, even she couldn’t answer that.

And neither could I.