Alternate POV: Flint bargains with Shade

(please remember, this scene is unedited and unpolished)

Scene: Shade and Agent Andrew Bradford are trying to get into a leannan sidhe’s house where an auction is being held to sell of young artists. Shade must find a way to get inside, and Peasblossom points out that there’s only one sidhe she knows that could get her inside AND who wants something from her that she trade for his help.

* * * * * *

I put the ratio of people who wanted to kill me vs people who wanted to bed me at about 1:5.

“Not terrible odds,” I murmured to myself.

A man passed by, his grey eyes lingering on me for just a moment.

I almost didn’t recognize him in the tailored suit. Raphael had a distinct preference for leather, as did his twin sister Luna. The two members of the House of Seekers were rarely seen apart, but I didn’t see the female sibling anywhere.

Luna was easy to read. Raphael’s sister had the gift to soothe a person’s emotions, to act as a sort of living Valium. Because of that gift, it often fell on her to keep her brother’s temper at bay. An exhausting task. I wagered I could lure her into bed simply by offering to pet her. To offer her the peace she so easily granted to others.

Raphael was more of a toss up. Where his sister soothed her targets, Raphael revved them up. His power acted like a shot of adrenaline, or the world’s strongest espresso. He brought chaos wherever he went. And he reveled in it. On more than one occasion I’d wondered if he could lie down long enough for carnal endeavors. And if not, exactly how did he funnel all that chaos in the bedroom?

I caught his eye and smiled.

Raphael raised his mug of beer and took a long drink, hiding his expression before turning away to head deeper into the house.

Still a toss up.

My gaze snagged on Marilyn, the hostess of the evening. The statuesque blonds stood facing the door so she could greet every guest as they entered. At five foot nine she wasn’t very tall, but what she lacked in height, she made up for in style.

Flowers covered the upper half of her lithe, pale-skinned body. Soft, silken petals clung to her modest breasts, spilling in twin lines over her collarbone to connect with the clasps of a sheer blue cape that flowed over her back to spill onto the floor. A thick trail of flowers led from her left breast to the skirt, a match to the cape in color, but thicker, offering only a glimpse of the naked flesh beneath.

As if she felt my gaze, Marilyn looked my way. A warm rush of hatred filled her brilliant blue eyes.

“Definitely kill,” I sighed. “Pity.”

My phone rang, drawing annoyed looks from several people around me. I smile and raised an apologetic hand as I pulled my cell phone from my pocket.

My eyebrows rose when I saw the name.

Shade Renard.

A thousand thoughts raced through my mind at once.

I’d almost had her. Standing there with her, in her tiny living room, her deliciously curvy body in my arms, I’d almost had her. The witch that the vampire thought was so interesting. So important.

That vampire held my contract. He could call on me at any time, demand my services. That was not a situation I could allow to stand, but getting any kind of leverage on Cleveland’s most notorious “businessman” was almost impossible.

I smiled down at my phone.

Almost impossible.

I stepped closer to a nearby alcove that held waterfalls of pink and blue blossoms spilling down to brush the floor and quickly answered the call. “Shade Renard,” I said, dropping my voice into the same low, smooth tone I’d used the last time we’d met. The one that had made her fall into my arms. “How nice to hear from you again.”

“Hello.”

Her voice came out thinner than I guessed she’d intended.

I chuckled. “Hello. To what do I owe the pleasure of this call?”

There was a long pause.

“The auction,” she blurted out. “You’re there?”

I blinked and looked around the large foyer, half expecting to see the witch standing on the other side.

“The art auction?” I asked.

“The slave auction,” she corrected me, her voice suddenly ice cold.

Surprise washed over me and I turned my face away from the room to hide it from me fellow sidhe. How on earth had the witch known about the auction? Granted, Marilyn hadn’t been subtle in her advertising—she was, after all, determined to single-handedly return the leannan sidhe to their glory days. In just a few short months, she’d made her auctions into the social events of the season. There was a reason I was risking my personal physical safety to be here.

But Shade Renard shouldn’t have known about it. She had no ties to the sidhe that I knew of.

And I’d offered.

“Ah. Yes, I’m here.” I paused. “Are you?”

“That’s why I’m calling. I’d like to offer you a trade. I seem to have misplaced my invitation. Invite me as your plus one, and I’ll… I’ll remove the tattoo.”

I raised a hand to my face, instinctively reaching for the tattoo in question. The animated tattoo the resourceful little witch had bound to my skin in a rather cowardly attempt to deny her attraction to me.

If Marilyn’s assistant Rosalind hadn’t shown a surprising affection for arachnids, I might not have gained entry to this auction at all.

“Why, Shade, I would love for you to be my plus one,” I said, pouring warmth into my voice. “I’m afraid you’ve already missed the first day, but there’s more fun to come. When shall I pick you up?”

“Now. I’m at the gatehouse.”

I couldn’t help the smile that spread over my face. Clever witch. She was here already. And she needed my help. Must have really needed it if she was reaching out to me like this.

So much potential.

“I’m coming.”

I ended the call before she could change her mind and headed out the front door. I shot Marilyn a quick wink as I passed her, but I was too distracted to really enjoy the mix of confusion, annoyance, and hope on her face as she watched me leave.

How had Shade Renard found out about Marilyn’s auction? Did it have something to do with why the vampire showed such interest in her? Had Marilyn’s reputation grown even beyond what I’d realized? Her crusade to return the leannan sidhe to their former glory by increasing our patronage to human artists had garnered quite a bit of interest since she’d started the auctions.

Even those who’d feared the Vanguard would see the auctions as a step too far had caved after a rash of legal precedent had been set in human courts allowing teenagers to be tried as adults.

Teenagers. Humans without the brain development to make good long-term choices, but the legal standing to be tried as adults. To make adult decisions.

If a child could take on massive amounts of debt to go to college, the argument could certainly be made that they could take on other…debts. At least, that’s what Marilyn planned to argue in the courts when the time came.

Is that how the witch had found out about them? A connection to the Vanguard?

I took a deep breath of the cool night air and smiled. I would have answers in due time. For now, there was one thing I did know for certain.

No doubt the witch was furious.

And angry people made all sorts of interesting decisions.

“Who is Flint?”

I slowed my pace as I grew closer to the front gate. That was a man’s voice. Somewhat familiar.

He didn’t sound happy.

The witch’s voice followed. “Flint is someone I would never work with if I had a choice. But he is invaluable to us now. He’s powerful, he’s clever, and he’s very persuasive.”

I’m more persuasive without the tattoo on my face, I thought ruefully. But then, we’re about to fix that.

I smoothed my hands down the front of my suit jacket and emerged from beyond the wall hiding me from the front lawn. “Why, Ms. Renard. You’ll turn my head with such pretty words.”

Shade wasn’t facing me, but even in the dim light I could see her her spine stiffen.

So tense, little witch. I could fix that for you.

I sauntered closer as she turned, taking my time to approach her. Giving her time to get a good look at me. Her eyes widened slightly, and her breath caught. I considered flexing my power, just a little, but quickly decided against it.

I didn’t have to.

Suddenly she dropped her gaze to the ground, and a shiver that had nothing to do with arousal made her upper body twitch.
I swallowed a surge of frustration.

The tattoo.

“So lovely to see you again, Shade,” I murmured. “Shall we get straight down to it?”

“You.”

I turned to face the man who’d spoken. Human, by the look of it. Handsome in a wretchedly repressed sort of way. If his tie were any tighter it would surely cut off his air supply.

“I’m sorry, have we met?” I asked.

The man crossed his arms. “No. But we should have.”

I raised my eyebrows, but he didn’t offer anything more.

The sound of a zipper drew my attention back to the witch as she opened the…fanny pack around her waist.

I didn’t know they made those anymore.

The man in the suit continued to stare at me as if he could bore a hole through the side of my face with just his glare, but I ignored him, unable to look away from the spectacle unfolding before me as the witch searched her pouch, taking out random items and discarding them in frustration.

Was that a vacuum cleaner?

At one point, the witch’s entire arm vanished into the waist pouch, all the way to her shoulder. I winced. Some people shouldn’t be trusted with bottomless bags. Shade was clearly one of them.

Finally she found what she was looking for. A slip of parchment with writing on it. The anti-curse.

I held my breath as she approached me, not wanting to do anything to add to her discomfort and delay my reward. The witch was arachnophobic, I was certain of it. Hence the reason she’d put the tattoo on me in the first place. That little eight legged creature did more to overcome her physical attraction to me that her self-control ever could.

I needed it gone. Now.

It took her two long minutes to force her hand to touch my face long enough to remove the curse, and she was trembling by the time she was finished.

“I believe you can open your eyes now.”

She had to force her eyes open. When she did, her gaze flicked back and forth over my face. Slowly, the tension eased from her shoulders. Her resistance melting away.

My smile widened.

“If that’s finished, perhaps we can get inside now?” the man asked tersely.

The witch turned to face him, but he didn’t meet her eyes.

A lover’s quarrel?

“Yes, we can go now. Right, Flint?” she asked.

I looked her up and down, studying her clothing in an attempt to find the best way to…guide her to better choices. Bad enough I was about to bring a witch into Marilyn’s precious gathering, but if I brought her in looking like that, I’d ruin our hostess’ aesthetic.

An unforgivable sin.

“In a moment. First, we need to address your attire.”

Shade looked down at her black leggings, long-sleeved black shirt with a high neck and an asymmetrical cut to the hem…and a red trench coat. “What’s wrong with what I’m wearing?”

I rubbed a hand over my mouth to hide my reaction. “Perhaps we should start with the…fanny pack?”

She covered the pouch with both hands. “It stays.”

I sighed. “All right. Let’s try this.”

The witch tensed as I stepped closer, but I heard her take a deep breath. Drawing in my scent. I tried to keep the anticipation from my face as I settled my hands on her shoulders.

She jumped.

“Easy now,” I said, bringing my lips closer to her neck so my breath ghosted over her skin. “Just relax.”

She stood there, holding her breath as I called my magic and drew my hands down her arms. I could almost hear her pulse roaring in her throat as I brushed her hips and slid my palms up her sides. After a split second of hesitation, I drew a bold stroke down her spine and over the curve of her backside. Her body heat felt good against my fingertips, and I knelt down to draw my touch over her legs.

Her hand tensed as my new position put my face within slapping distance and I pulled away, letting the magic snap into place.

I admired my handiwork, reflecting that the snug black dress I’d worked for her with glamour was much more flattering. Shade had a delectably curvy body, and while she didn’t dress in a way that hid her charms, she also didn’t choose to accentuate them the way she could have. With a body like that, she could make her very appearance into a weapon.

I could teach her.

“You didn’t need to touch me to work the glamour.”

I let my appreciation show in my eyes. “No.”

A pink blush spread over her cheeks and she clenched her teeth. “I’m not wearing this. I’m not trying to blend in.”

I was about to point out that if I’d wanted her to blend in, I’d have woven a much more complex glamour, but the man spoke again before I could think of a tactful way to say it.

“If you’re done, perhaps we can move on to rescuing the children?” the man in the suit said tightly. 

“Yes.” Shade jerked a thumb toward Marilyn’s house. “It’s time for you to hold up your end of the deal.”

I offered her my arm, feeling a surge of excitement at the thought of getting her into the house. She was attracted to me, that much was obvious. If I could just get her away from the angry man, and into a place where she would need to rely on me a little more…

“Shall we?”

She glowered at me, but after a second of hesitation, she tucked her fingers into the bend of my arm. I led her back toward the house, but stopped when I realized the man had fallen into step behind us.

“You are not coming,” I said firmly, keeping one hand over Shade’s.

“Yes, I am.”

“No, you are not. I agreed to escort Shade inside, but there was no mention of bringing in a human.”

“He’s coming too,” Shade said.

I slipped my hands into the pockets of my tuxedo, letting myself relax. While my preference was certainly to get Shade away from her companion, if she was truly insistent that he accompany us, then perhaps I could use it to my advantage. “All right. If you insist on his presence, then you will have to bargain for it. I am only permitted one guest, so arranging for your FBI agent’s invitation will be significantly more challenging. The price will, of course, reflect the task’s level of difficulty. I understand witches prefer to trade services. I no longer require your magical talents, so what will you offer?”

I glanced down at her chest before I could stop myself.

Shade’s jaw tightened. “We are done bargaining.”

I shrugged one shoulder. “Pity.”

“I’m coming inside.” The man took a step toward the house, but didn’t go so far that he wasn’t still between me and the witch. “I can go as a guest, or as an FBI agent. At this point, I don’t care which.”

I studied the man, trying to figure out if the bravado I was seeing had more to do with bravery or stupidity. “The bidding will start soon. Arguing, or attempting to force your way inside, will only waste your time and mine. You must decide now what matters more to you. Your presence at the auction, or the safety of the children you claim you’re here to protect.”

He clenched his jaw, the grinding of his teeth audible in the silence. Restrained fury rolled off him in waves, hot enough I felt it burn against my skin.

For a split second, I hoped he would insist on coming. I had a sudden feeling there was more to this man than first glance would suggest.

“Flint, will you give us a moment?” Shade asked.

“Of course.”

I strolled a few paces up the driveway, leaving the two to have their little chat.

As I watched them from a respectable distance, I couldn’t help but notice the intensity of their expressions. The pleading look on the witch’s face. The frustration on his. I knew what those looks meant.

Shade and her friend were desperate.

Good.