Blood of Innocence (Sloan Skye) (28 page)

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Authors: Tami Dane

BOOK: Blood of Innocence (Sloan Skye)
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Elmer said, “I’d be happy to.”
My dad, Elmer, and I headed toward a table where the woman I had assumed was Her Majesty, the queen of the elves, was seated. She looked upon me with assessing eyes.
My father pulled me forward, stopping roughly five feet in front of the queen. He tipped his head in reverence. I didn’t. “Your Majesty, I’d like to present my daughter, Sloan.”
Her Majesty offered me her hand.
I’ve never met royalty. That is, outside of Elmer. I wasn’t sure what I was supposed to do. Was I supposed to shake her hand? Kiss it? Genuflect?
Playing it safe, I did all three. Kind of. I did a little curtsey, bent my head over her hand, and gave it a tiny shake.
“Your Majesty.” I took a half step backward.
“She’s lovely,” Her Majesty said.
“I assume you know who this is?” My father motioned to Elmer.
The queen looked like she’d seen the Second Coming of Christ or something equally magnificent. “Yes, of course.” She offered Elmer her hand.
Elmer dipped into a low bow, showing a side of himself I’d never seen. He moved with regal grace. It was a total shocker. “It’s good to see you again, Your Majesty.”
“My daughter has decided not to wed His Royal Highness,” my father informed her.
This surprised me. Why would the elf queen care?
“Really?” Her Majesty’s eyes narrowed. “I’m very sorry to hear that.” She stared at me. “Very ... surprised.”
And clearly unhappy.
“His Majesty deserves much better than me,” I reasoned. “After all, I’m not even full-blood elf.”
The queen considered my response for at least an hour, or so it seemed. “She makes a good point.” She motioned to the man pack, the one Katie had been eyeballing. “Perhaps she would like to meet my sons?”
“I would be happy to introduce her,” my father said.
“Very good.” With a nod, the queen of the elves dismissed us, calling Elmer to come sit by her side to have a talk.
Dad ushered me toward the center of the room.
“I can handle the introductions on my own,” I told him, once we’d moved out of earshot of the queen. “No need to take you away from Mom.”
“Very good. If you need anything, let me know.”
“Will do.”
I went in search of Katie, finding her in the bathroom, doing a makeup check. Our gazes met in the mirror. “Guess what? The men you were checking out are the sons of a queen. Real-life princes.”
“Like ... Elmer?”
“No, more like Prince Wills. But not exactly. Elmer’s undead. These princes are elves.”
“No way.”
“Yes way.”
“Are you kidding?” She gave me a goggle-eyed look of surprise. “Elf princes?”
“Not kidding.”
“All of them?”
“That, I don’t know.”
“Oh, my God, I’m so glad you’re my best friend.” She gave me a bouncy hug. “But wait a minute. Weren’t you leaving early?” She released me to turn back toward the mirror. “You wanted to get back to your case.”
“Yeah.”
“Are you sure you have to leave?” she asked as she brushed more bronzer on her cleavage. “I mean, you’re just an intern. You’re not an agent yet. And this is summer vacation. And it’s your parents’ wedding.
Your parents.
And—and they’re freaking
princes.
Why would anyone hold it against you?”
“I know. But ...” I tried to remind myself why I had to leave the wedding early. JT was watching Hough. He didn’t need my help. I wasn’t working undercover anymore. Onora Dale knew I wasn’t pregnant. I’d already profiled the killer. McGrane had men watching Lucas Dale and their house in Ocean City. What was there for me to do? I motioned to the brush in her hand. “The queen herself suggested I introduce myself. Who am I to ignore a royal command, right?”
“Yes!” Katie gave a fist pump. “It’s been ages since we’ve been out together. Tonight’ll be like old times.”
Actually, I hoped it wouldn’t be. Because back then, Katie had men dropping at her heels. I stood in her shadow and watched. “Can I borrow some of that bronzer? Maybe I’ll finally meet a man who isn’t an ex-boyfriend, a coworker, or the walking dead.”
“Here you go.” Katie whisked a little more tinted powder on herself, then handed the brush to me. Next she dug out some pink lip gloss. “I can’t believe this. Did you know there would be princes here?”
“Didn’t have a clue.” I scrutinized my reflection in the mirror and frowned. “If I had, I would’ve taken more time getting ready. I would have at least done something better with my hair. And my makeup is a nightmare.”
“You look great.” Katie painted some gloss on my lips. “There, now you look a little sexy.”
I checked my reflection.
She lied. But whatever.
Maybe, with any luck, the geek reading the book in the corner was a prince. And maybe he’d like average girls like me.
And maybe our energies would resonate.
I pulled the bodice of my dress down a little, exposing as much cleavage as I could, brushed some fake tan onto the enhanced swell of my breasts (I am now a big fan of Victoria’s Secret) and handed the brush back to Katie. “Let’s go.”
Katie led the battle charge. “Watch out, Princes, here we come.”
When it comes to the future, there are three kinds of people: those who let it happen, those who make it happen, and those who wonder what happened.
—John M. Richardson, Jr.
 
26
 
An hour later, I was feeling a little like Goldilocks. As odd and inappropriate as it sounded, meeting the queen’s sons was a little like tasting porridge. The oldest son in attendance had been my first choice. He was the one who’d been reading the book. Surely, I’d told myself, that meant he was intelligent.
Surely, I’d also told myself, that meant he would be capable of interesting, thought-provoking, stimulating conversation.
Lukewarm and bland as hell. That’s what that porridge tasted like.
After being bored to tears by a never-ending analysis of last night’s dream (and OMG, was it bizarre!), I excused myself to go to the bathroom, fluffed my hair, gave myself a pep talk, and sent myself back out there to sample the next porridge.
When I returned to the ballroom, I discovered Katie had abandoned her first choice as well, in favor of another prince—all I can say is thank God the queen’s a very fertile woman. There were still plenty more for us to choose from, and it seemed we were two of an extremely small number of single women at the wedding.
While my mother and father danced the Macarena—a horrific sight to which no child should be exposed—I introduced myself to Bachelor Number Two.
“Nice to meet you,” he said, giving me a sparkly-eyed smile. It was a good start. “I’m Taggart.”
“Sloan, daughter of the bride and groom.”
“So I’ve been told.” Prince Taggart flicked his eyes around the room. “Are you here alone?”
“Yes.”
Those eyes returned to me, settled on my boobs. “Care to go somewhere quiet?” he asked them. “Somewhere where we could get to know each other more ... intimately?”
Holy shit, this man didn’t play around. Or was he joking? I laughed, giving him the benefit of the doubt.
He looked confused. His gaze wandered up to my face. “So, is that a no?”
“That would be correct. Thanks, anyway.”
His jaw dropped. Poor prince. Didn’t know how to handle rejection, it would seem.
Time to move on.
Prince Number Three was standing at the bar, looking lonely. At least, that was what I told myself. I decided he needed some company.
“Let me guess, you hate weddings?” I said by way of a greeting.
“Detest them.” Prince Number Three flagged the bartender.
“Not a fan myself.” I offered my hand. “Sloan Skye.”
“Damen.” His handshake was firm. His gaze was friendly, with the slightest hint of a smile pulling at his lips. He didn’t leer at my boobs. “I’ve known your father for years. I have a great deal of respect for him.”
At this point, I didn’t know if I could say the same. Especially in light of his most recent activities ... despite helping me out with Elmer.
“That’s very nice,” I answered. To the bartender, who was now patiently waiting for me to give my order, I said, “I’ll take a diet cola. Thanks.”
“Your father saved my life,” Prince Damen said after taking a drink from the glass sitting in front of him on the bar. Swiveling, he turned to face me.
“Saved your life?”
The bartender set my cola on a paper napkin in front of me. I grabbed it and sipped. Lukewarm.
Blech!
Prince Damen studied me for a long moment, as if he was reading my body language, or my mind. “What do you know about your father?”
Some other wedding attendees stepped up to place orders. Damen reached a hand to my waist, coaxing me to move aside, out of the way. As it happened, we were now standing in a semidark corner of the room. Fairly isolated. It was sort of cozy. Intimate.
If only we could get off the subject of my father ...
“I know very little about him, to be honest. He just recently ‘resurrected’ from the dead.” I made quotes in the air with my fingers when I said the word “resurrected.”
Damen gave me a doubtful, slant-eyed look.
“Let me clarify. He let my mother and me believe he was dead for over two decades. Then he just suddenly reappeared, got my mother knocked up, cheated on her, and then talked her into marrying him today.” I bit my lip. “Okay, that was probably a little more than you wanted to hear.” I determined it was a good time to busy my mouth with something besides talking. I was saying too much. I sucked on the skinny straw in my glass.
“Actually, I appreciate the honesty.”
I shrugged, hoping to appear relaxed, confident. “What’s the point in lying, right? We don’t know each other. I don’t need to impress you.”
He stirred his drink. The ice clanked against the glass. “I wish more people felt that way. Just about everyone around me lies. They’re either trying to advance their career, or they’re trying to get to my mother, or they’re trying to push a political agenda... .”
“Must suck, being a prince.” No, I didn’t feel that way. I could think of a million reasons why being a prince or princess would be downright fabulous, but I felt he was looking for some empathy.
“No, it doesn’t ‘suck.’” He tipped his head slightly and studied me for a moment. Even though his gaze wasn’t hard or assessing, I felt my face warming. “It would suck having to stay away from your family, from missing every major event in your child’s life. From living day after day wondering what was happening to the woman you loved. Don’t you agree?”
I lifted my chin. “I thought we were talking about you, not my father.”
“I guess what I’m saying is I have it great, compared to some people.”
I respected him for that. I lifted my glass to him. “Well played.”
“I’m not trying to win a game, or a debate. I’m just trying to ... connect with someone.”
“I—”
Frankie Goes to Hollywood’s “The Power of Love” started playing, interrupting what I was trying to stammer out. “My folks love this song.”
Damen took my hand and led me to the dance floor. His arms enfolded my body and the beat thrummed through me. I closed my eyes and leaned a little closer. We swayed to the beat.
Now ... this felt good. Better than good. It felt right.
When the song ended, I tipped my head back to thank him. He was looking down at me. His gaze locked on mine, and a current of sensual energy buzzed through my body.
It was a magical moment.
Until my freaking phone rang.
It was in my handbag, but I knew from the ring that it was JT. Bad, horrible, atrocious timing. I decided to ignore it.
“Are you going to answer it?” Damen asked as he released me and took a step back. It rang again. I gritted my teeth. “Sounds like someone is anxious to talk to you.”
“It’s a coworker, but I’m off the clock.”
My phone rang a fourth time.
Damen and I exchanged a look. He took another step back and motioned to my purse. “I’ll let you get that.”
“Thanks.” I dug my phone out and hit the button. “This had better be a matter of life or death.”
“I need to talk to you. Now,” JT said.
“I’m busy. Can’t it wait?”
“No.”
“JT, I’m at a wedding.”
“It’s a matter of life and death.”
“Does this have to do with our case?”
He didn’t respond right away. “I can’t say for sure yet.”
“What’s going on?” I asked.
“It’s Brittany. She’s missing. And with our case ... you know ...”
I glanced at Damen, who was staring out at the dance floor and pretending not to listen. I grumbled, “Where are you?”
“I’m at home.”
I heaved a heavy sigh. “I’ll be there in a half hour.”
 
“Nice dress.” JT stepped aside, letting me into his house. Earlier, we’d packed up our things and vacated the rental.
“I told you, I was at
my parents’
wedding.” I gave him some seriously evil eyes as I
click-clacked
into his entryway.
“No, actually, you said you were at ‘a wedding.’ You never specified.” JT ushered me toward the living room.
I stood, arms crossed, next to the couch. “Whatever. So what’s the story with Hough?” I gritted my teeth as I said her name. Then I reminded myself that I didn’t have to be jealous of the woman who was carrying JT’s child. After all, I had just danced with a gorgeous prince who had a traffic-stopping smile. Of course, I had no idea if I’d ever see said gorgeous prince again. Because JT had called me, interrupting my evening.
“She called me a few hours ago, but I’d left my cell phone in my car and missed the call. She said something about hearing a strange noise. Naturally, I got worried.”
“Naturally.”
“So I tried to call her back,” he continued, pacing back and forth so fast he was making me dizzy. “She didn’t answer.”
I leaned against the side of the couch. “When did you call her?”
“About an hour ago.”
I checked the time. “Maybe she fell asleep?”
“I went to her place. She’s not at home.”
“Isn’t she married? Shouldn’t her ... wife ... be worrying about her?”
“Whitney’s out of town on business. And she is worried. I called her from their driveway, and she gave me permission to break in.”
“And ... ?”
“I found Brittany’s phone and purse sitting on the kitchen counter. Her car’s in the garage.”
I had to admit, that sounded suspicious. “So she left, but she didn’t drive. Have you checked local hospitals? Maybe she was taken in for some reason.”
“No. Good idea.” He gave me a wilted smile. “Thank you for coming. I’m sorry I made you miss the wedding.”
“It’s no big deal. The wedding was over. It’s just a reception.” I dug my cell phone out of my purse. “Let’s find Brittany.”
 
 
“I’m sorry I made you worry,” Brittany told us an hour later. It was nearly midnight. We were at the hospital. Brittany was looking sleepy. I was feeling sleepy. JT had overdosed on caffeinated energy drinks. He would probably be up all night. He might even be up for the rest of the week. “You didn’t have to come here.”
“Of course we had to come. We’re your friends,” JT said, sitting on the edge of her bed.
Friends. Right.
He continued, “Besides, we weren’t doing anything tonight.”
Brittany glanced at me. “It looks like Sloan was. I doubt she puts on a full-length gown to watch
Criminal Minds
reruns.”
“Actually, I do,” I said, shooting her a grin.
I could tell by her reaction, she didn’t believe me. I wouldn’t believe me either.
“What’s going on? Why did you call 911?” JT asked Brittany.
“It’s no big deal. I heard something outside, so I went to check what it was. I tripped and fell then. The doctor told me I had to come in and be monitored for a few hours. My neighbor drove me in.”
“And ... ?” he asked, brows raised.
She pointed at the monitor sitting on the stand next to the bed. “Everything’s fine. I should be clear to go home anytime now.”
“Thank God.” JT patted her hand. “We’ll wait until you’re released. I’ll drive you home.”
“But maybe Sloan has somewhere to go? Did you two drive together?”
“No, I drove myself. It’s okay,” I reassured her. “The reception was over at midnight. Which is”—I checked the clock on the wall—“
was
five minutes ago.”
Brittany grimaced. “I’m so sorry, Sloan.”

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