Until curiosity got the better of me. “Your name?”
His lips twitched. “You are new.” He refilled the glass we were using, his dark eyes glancing at me under thick lashes. “I’m King Jerome.”
Taking the opportunity given and not showing my surprise, I scanned his face in slow increments. “The King Warlock.” I knew the names, just not the faces yet. Done with my careful perusal, I dipped my head to him once. He was too good looking for his own good. “It’s nice to meet you.”
He merely lifted a brow, also taking his own unhurried survey of my face before looking back out to the masses, sipping on the whiskey. “I’d heard a rumor there was a new Valkyrie.” A quick glance at me, back to the crowd. “That you?”
I shrugged a shoulder, not commenting.
He pushed the glass across the table to me. “You were raised by humans?”
“The rumor mill reaches far,” I muttered, absently taking a sip. The majority of the Warlocks currently lived in California. Sighing quietly, I grumbled, “Why the hell does this seem to be a point of interest for everyone?”
His attention altered to mine, his words quiet. “Our children are sacred.”
It only took a moment for me to understand, and I flinched with it. A horrible sign of weakness, but I couldn’t stop it. Clearing my throat, I quickly peered away. My biological parents hadn’t wanted me. Had tossed me aside. Not even to the Valan, but to the humans. It was just another horrible reminder of how cold my heart was. “They may have had their reasons.”
He snorted softly, a quiet growl to his tone, an undercurrent of his power. “Whoever they are, they broke our laws. Our most sacred one at that. If they’re ever found, they’ll be judged accordingly.” When two Valan factions mate and produce a child, the baby was either what mom was or what dad was, so my mom, if she were still alive, was definitely Valkyrie.
Rolling my head on my shoulders, I slid further down my chair and tried to relax, sharing my drink occasionally, and not furthering the discussion. However, I froze when my palm accidently brushed his when we both grabbed for the bottle. Quickly, I jerked my hand back. Not peering at me, his lips twitched as he lifted the bottle, refilling our glass, stating coolly, “Afraid to find your mate?” He hadn’t used his power to test me.
“Screw off,” I grumbled. “I’m young.”
“How old are you?” he asked, glancing at my covered wrists.
“Eighteen.” I pulled the sleeves of my leather jacket lower.
He had paused with the glass halfway to his lips before it continued on, taking a sip. “As in, double digits? Nothing before the eighteen?”
I nodded. “Yes.”
He chuckled quietly, staring at the glass in his hand. “In human terms, you’re not even old enough to drink this.”
“Good thing I’m not human,” I muttered, carefully taking my glass from his hand and resettling myself on my chair. “How old are you?”
“Far past double digits.”
Loved the none answer. “You’re that old?”
“Any Ruler is.” His lips curved. “You should be careful. While the young are invaluable to us, they tend to have hard lessons to learn within our society.”
“Duly noted,” I mumbled, peering back out to the crowd. I flicked an absent finger to a red-haired woman who had been speaking with Callie for a while. “Who’s that with Queen Clover?”
He didn’t even look. “Queen Nilkos.”
“The Queen Mermaid,” I murmured, seeing they were fairly decent friends, their closeness apparent. My gaze scanned the crowd further with another finger flick. “And the black haired women next to the large man with silver hair in the middle of the buffet line?” The buff man’s hair was gorgeous, shimmering deep platinum.
He tapped his fingers on the table while placing his chin on his other hand, merely watching me with a flittering of amusement etching his stunning features. “The woman’s Queen Willow and the man’s King Haven.” The Queen Vampire and the King Shifter. His brows rose, his tone playful. “Anyone else you see of interest?”
My brows furrowed. It now felt like a challenge to find the remaining Royals right away. My gaze racing over the crowd, stalling on a woman with auburn hair surrounded by a few others listening to her attentively, I flicked my finger, muttering, “That’s Queen Jasmine, right?” The Queen Witch.
After a quick glance in that direction, he nodded his head once, chuckling quietly. “Two more to go, Ms. Claire.”
I wrinkled my nose at him, my attention zooming across the congregating mass, only to stall on a man laughing as he spoke with a few others. Their group had already gone through the buffet line. Half stood while they ate, the others sitting comfortably on a long table. The breath inside my chest froze for a moment, an entirely odd sensation, but the man was smoking hot. At least six and a half feet tall, he was built so the black designer suit he wore tugged deliciously at his biceps. His silver dress shirt fit perfectly over his chest, one hand resting casually in his black dress slacks while he appeared to sip on coffee, listening to the others. His hair was white, a brilliant white of twirling loose curls down to his shoulders. His face sunkissed, tan against the brilliance of his hair, his white brows thin slashes over his brilliant blue eyes and a straight nose with sharp cheekbones to extenuate his defined jaw line. His lips were plush and deep red. Everything about him was utterly striking and magnificent. Just like the man next to me.
I flicked an absent finger to him, blinking once. “That’s King Sephove?” The King Angel.
King Jerome’s eyes flicked to where I was pointing, then he laughed abruptly, deep and booming, before peering back to my startled eyes. He shook his beautiful head. “That’s King Balar.” A flicked finger, his amusement apparent at my shocked expression, pointing to a man with golden hair clear across the room. “That would be King Sephove.” Apparently, the actual King Angel.
My brows scrunched, gazing at the white-haired man. “That’s the King Demon?”
King Jerome snorted, the sound entirely too amused. “Don’t let appearances fool you.” A gentle shake of his head, another sardonic snort. “He’s not as pure as he appears.”
“Apparently,” I muttered, but I went absolutely quiet inside when captivating ice blue eyes flicked in my direction. He began to glance away, but jerked back, seeing I was staring at him. Not moving my mouth, I hissed under my breath, “
How the hell can someone look like that and be a Demon?”
“All the better to suck the life from you,” King Jerome murmured softly, refilling our glass, also flicking his gaze in the direction I was held immobile in. His amusement only increased when he saw King Balar whisper in the ear of the man standing next to him. Then he began maneuvering in a fluid...
Christ
...stalk through the tables, heading directly our way, his gaze alternating from me to King Jerome, who had plastered a serene expression on his face. “And, here he comes. My very,” complete sarcasm, “
best friend
.”
Lifting the glass, his dark eyes held mine. “Fair warning. He’s a stuck up prick, and mercy is not his strong suit. He knows he’s an ass and he doesn’t care.”
I merely hummed, my head cocking, watching as the King Demon gracefully moved up the stairs, his gaze flying over the other Valkyrie, who quieted when he weaved through their tables. Quietly, ever so slowly, his attention slid to the man across from me, a white brow arching gradually as he came to a stop at our table at the end of the balcony. His voice was a deep timber, but quiet against any eavesdropping. “Lurking in the shadows again, I see.”
King Jerome smiled. “It’s better than living in them.”
King Balar’s lips curved up on one side, not commenting, before his gaze slid back to mine, holding, utterly captivating even closer, the color so light against his honeyed skin tone. Both his brows lifted, his voice still quiet, but full of arrogance. “Who the hell are you?” Those ice blue eyes began a gradual creep down my body, taking in every aspect of me. His nose crinkled the barest bit as he slowly unbuttoned his suit jacket to fluidly sit on the only remaining chair across from me. Ice blues, just as gradually rising back up, flew over my clothes. “I haven’t seen you before.”
I lifted a black, thin brow. “You know everyone?”
His gaze slammed on mine, my entire being freezing inside with the calculating intelligence hooded beneath his thick black lashes. “Yes.” Not asking, he took the glass before me, taking a slow sip, watching me over the rim before lowering it. “You must be Lana Claire.”
I snorted softly, peering away from those eyes, staring out to the throng. “And you’re King Balar. Lovely to meet you.” I waggled a pointed finger at the crowd. “The pleasantries are done. You can rejoin your group.”
And stop drinking my liquor
. I snatched the bottle, and then held my hand out for the glass, flicking my gaze back to his.
Not even peering down to my hand, he still carefully sat it on my palm, easily maneuvering around touching my hand. His white brows cocked, not leaving the table, purely arrogant as he watched me refill my glass, take a sip, then scoot it to King Jerome. “You prefer him for a drinking partner?”
“He’s quiet,” I stated easily, my gaze scanning his features and attire, shaking my head softly. “You are not.”
“You have much to learn if you’ll take him over me.” His angelic features only appeared even more innocent as he sat forward, placing both hands on the table, and to my eternal frustration, my gaze snagged on his silver watch, it gleaming brilliantly under the light, a diamond set into the face of it above the noon mark. Blinking quickly, I jerked my gaze away from it and up to his eyes. They crinkled the barest bit around the edges, even as he adjusted his suit jacket to cover the sparkling watch. Chuckling softly, he added, “You also must be young if that distracted you, Valkyrie.”
“I’m eighteen,” I grumbled, lifting the glass when King Jerome scooted it back to me. I waved an absent hand in agitation. “I mean, really. Does every damn Valan have to wear badass jewelry?”
King Jerome lifted a finger, his lips curving. “I don’t.”
“It’s much appreciated.” I sighed heavily, downing the last of the glass before refilling it. “All it does is flash and any young Valkyrie goes all,” I waved my hands in front of my face, “zoned the hell out. It’s annoying.” When he didn’t move to leave my table, I cracked my neck, tilted to the side, and extracted my new cellphone, my fingers flying over it.
King Jerome grunted softly. “Kids these days.”
King Balar’s hand shot out, and I froze when his index finger curved over the top of my screen. Still careful not to touch my hands, he pulled it down, away from my face. His brow once more lifting, he stated coolly, “I wasn’t done talking.”
“Your point?” I asked, eyeing him, trying seriously hard not to find this man attractive. I tipped my head at the screen. “I’m playing a game here.”
He smiled gently. A sweet smile. Right before my cell phone went flying over the balcony, ripped out of my hand so quickly I didn’t even see it. My mouth gaping, I watched as it smashed against the far stone wall, cracking to clatter on the floor. Only a few people glanced at it as he calmly placed his hands back on the table and steepled them to rest his chin on the tips, merely watching me with that easy innocence. Fully in command. “I said we weren’t through talking.”
I pointed a sharp finger where my cellphone lay broken and battered across the room. “You are going to pay for that!”
His lips twitched. “What are you going to do to me?”
My brows puckered, and then I shook my head. “No, I mean you’re
literally
going to pay for that. It cost me three hundred bucks! I had to work double shifts to pay for it.”
He stared. For a full minute. “I think I can afford it.” He shrugged a shoulder, his gaze scanning my face. “Do you have any clue who your biological parents are?”
Foregoing the glass, I merely lifted the bottle, taking a decent swig from it. “No, I don’t.” Still glaring where my phone lay, I sighed heavily, turning my scowl on him. “It was pink. Took me forever to find that color.”
His lips trembled. “You’ll get another phone. A pink one. I give you my Vow on this. Now, just hush for a moment and try to focus while I talk to you.”
I flipped him off.
His brows rose, his tone intimately quiet. “Is that an offer?”
My lips parted slightly. I just stared. I wasn’t a virgin. Not an innocent by a long shot, but there was vibrating carnality to his tone that froze me solid for a full beat, slow warmth resonating deep inside my gut. Swiftly, I cleared my throat, casually glancing to King Jerome as I took another swig from my bottle, grumbling dryly, “Is he for real?”
King Jerome’s shoulders were shaking ever so softly, elbows on the table, a fist in front of his mouth he leaned on. He glanced between us before his twinkling eyes landed on mine. He nodded once. Winking at me, his words were deeply amused. “I told you he was no choirboy.”
“You did mention that,” I mumbled, taking one more swig before I set the bottle in the middle of the table. I pushed it away from myself, beginning to feel the effects of the liquor. My gaze slid back to ice blue eyes, where the Demon merely waited for my response. “And no, that was not an offer.”
His nose crinkled, glancing once more at my attire. “I can’t say I’m too upset.”
“And I also mentioned he was an ass,” King Jerome purred, lifting the bottle to his own lips, grinning around it at me. “He doesn’t get any better the more you get to know him.”
I merely scowled at King Balar. “The way I dress is better than a stuffy jackass suit.”
His red plush lips curved. “This suit cost me twenty grand.”
“You overpaid,” I grumbled, but a thought occurred. “You know, there’s this newer version of my phone. Since I’m so scarred from the act of seeing My Precious tossed through the air like that, I believe I deserve the newer model.” My smile was as pure as his initial appearance.
He rubbed his chin with his steepled fingers, watching me, his eyes lingering on my curved lips. “Manipulation in the form of innocence. Not bad. Queen Clover’s teaching you well.” His gaze slid up from my lips, holding my gaze. “But I hold the true domain for manipulation. If you want to try to work that on a Demon, don’t start with me. You’ll only get hurt in the long run.” Ice blue eyes stared pointedly, unrelenting in his questioning. “I understand your adoptive parents are deceased. What were their names? There’s bound to be record—”