Seven Black Diamonds (Seven Black Diamonds #1)(8)

Before she got caught looking at the fae-blood singer, she rested her cheek against Erik’s shoulder and said, “Nothing fancy, Erik. Just dance with me for a minute like we’re normal people.”

Mutely, he complied, and they continued the next, much tamer, dance in silence. At the end of their second song, Erik leaned in and kissed the corner of her mouth, then he led her to her father’s side. No one—including their fathers or the fae-blood on stage—could have missed the possessive air of Erik’s actions tonight.

As she reached her father, Daidí gave her a curious look, but she merely smiled at him in reply.

Erik walked away, and she was left alone for a moment. There were guests to mingle with, smiles to wear, and myriad conversations she could join.

As Lily scanned the ballroom, she saw Shayla. She was almost to her when Creed’s speaking voice drew her attention. “I’m going to take a break, but the orchestra will keep you entertained during my pause.”

He hopped down from the stage with the sort of ease that made clear that ceremony wasn’t his habit. He looked graceful, but very much out of place in her father’s ballroom. It wasn’t that he didn’t have the wealth to wear what the most ostentatious of them did. It was that he didn’t seem to care—not about wealth or status or any of the trappings of it.

And right now, he was watching her with what looked like challenge in his eyes.

Lily, however, wasn’t going to change her path, despite the fact that he was now standing beside Shayla. She kept her smile in place and walked toward them.

“You were as wonderful live as on your albums,” Lily said as she reached him.

“I try.”

Shayla met Lily’s eyes and said, “He has one more set after his break.”

Then she abandoned Lily to her fate.

Once she was gone, Creed said, “I’d ask you to dance, but I couldn’t compete with your . . . what is he?”

Lily laughed. “You have a different girl with you in every picture. How can you possibly sound jealous?”

Creed shrugged. “None of those girls are my girlfriend.” He paused before offering, “I want to sing for you. Just you. Take me to your garden, and let me.”

Her back was to the rest of the guests, but Lily still needed the tension in the air between them to vanish. Erik had already noticed. So had her father, and undoubtedly, so had Shayla. She could see them all watching her, as were a lot of the guests.

Abernathy Commandment #14: Blending in helps you seem less memorable should you need an alibi at some point.

In a light voice, Lily said, “Is that what you say to girls to lure them away?”

His laugh was self-deprecating. “Most of them need no bribes. Only you have needed convincing.” He reached out for her hand.

“No gardens.” She took his hand and started toward the dance floor. “No private concert, but you could dance with me, Creed. That’s allowed.”

Getting involved with a fae-blood was too risky. She couldn’t do it, but for the next several minutes, Lily let herself be held by the boy who had been her fantasy before she’d even known he was a fae-blood like her. After this, she’d return to the life she knew and understood. For a few moments, though, she was going to enjoy herself.





four


ROAN

Roan waited in the alley behind the Paragon hotel for his closest friend and ally. If anyone asked, he was her date. It was a convenient cover for their meetings—and for the fact that he had about as much interest in girls as he had in joining a country club. Roan had given his heart away several years ago, and the only people who believed otherwise were the ones who didn’t know him at all. Violet Lamb knew him as well as anyone in either world could.

He shivered a little. The filthy water pooled in gutters behind the hotel made him feel vaguely queasy. There was no way around it though: meeting Violet in the lobby was sure to lead to other problems. She was here filming some sort of action film, and the photographers and fans were all but camped out in the lobby. The hotel allowed it tonight, which gave her a better shot at slipping out through the service elevator without being seen.

It was a familiar routine. Roan waited until he spied her sidling along the building. Her flame-red hair was tightly bound in a braid, and she had a long leather coat with an oversized hood pulled up to further hide the spill of red curls that everyone thought came from a salon. Like him, Violet was fae—specifically, born of the Seelie. Those of the so-called “better” fae court were what was traditionally called “sun-burnished.” For centuries, the descendants of the Seelie fae had been mistaken for African Americans, Latin Americans, or people with Middle Eastern ancestry. Violet’s mother was from the Southern Continent, so she played up the illusion of Hispanic blood whereas Roan and Creed both had human families who were visibly African American. Being even slightly fae-blood would result in imprisonment, so they all had been raised to encourage not only the misconception that they were simply darker-skinned humans, but also that they made themselves appear more attractive by way of cosmetics or other chemicals.

All fae or fae-blood—those who were descendants of the fae, but not true fae—had to simply pretend to be shallow enough to care about appearance. Some, like Violet, had an easier time of it because of the role they took in this world. Vi was an actress, one who loved her job and the primping that came with it. Tonight, though, she was dressed to hide in the shadows: over-large black sunglasses, her standard tall leather boots, black jeans, and her black leather coat. He teased her once about the leather, but she pointed out that everything else held the scent of smoke too easily.