Hidden Passions (Hidden, #7)(49)

Tony wasn't sure that was true. Still, the idea that someone would miss him was agreeable.

~

Tony checked in with Adam, but his boss didn't need him for anything. The alpha and Nate had their heads together. From the sound of their discussion, they were strategizing how and what to report to their higher ups. Two members of the race who'd founded Resurrection had been killed at the hands of the RPD. Their deaths were justified, maybe even unavoidable. All the same, explaining how they'd come about was delicate.

Left at loose ends but not ready to go home, he wandered out onto the estate's back grounds. The weather had cleared since morning. A velvety autumn sky stretched over the groomed gardens. The beauty of his surroundings should have improved his mood. Instead, it saddened him. The person he'd been before he came out was haunting him--always hiding, often angry, rarely considering the feelings of the women he'd used to shore up his lie. Evina defending him was sweet, but to be honest, Jin was entitled to her grudge.


Maybe him being alone while everyone was finding soulmates was simply his just desserts.

Oh your life is so sad, he mocked himself. Friends that loved him. Family that cared. Family that was alive and breathing, for that matter. Plenty of people were worse off than him. He'd suck this up like he did everything.

He'd reached a grape arbor where bunches of purple fruit dangled between the leaves. The arbor overhung a bench, and on that bench a man who sparkled sat. Tony had no idea how he'd failed to notice the figure as he'd approached.

Pureblood faeries who'd dropped their glamours were hard to miss.

The male was slender and black-haired. He'd been leaning forward, his attention on some object he was turning between his hands. When Tony jerked to a halt and gasped, his head came up.

His soft blue eyes gave Tony the automatic soul slap faeries were so good at, as if their power could reach anywhere they chose.

"It's all right," the fae said through the sudden cotton in Tony's ears. "I'm Cass's father, Roald le Beau."

Of course he was. If Snow White had been a man, she'd have looked like him. Roald pulled his glamour back around him, and his skin stopped twinkling. He was still incredibly gorgeous--incredibly sexy too. Tony clenched his teeth against responding.

"Tony Lupone," he said. He started to offer his hand, then wondered if he should.

"Best not," the faerie said. "I'm still recovering from my wounds, and my control isn't what it ought to be. I wouldn't want you accidentally faerie struck."

Tony didn't see any wounds, but fae were hardly all body.

Roald le Beau lounged back on the wooden bench, considering Tony without speaking. The grace of his pose seemed as unconscious as his beauty. Tony wouldn't have been surprised if the grapes on the trellis had burst into being for him. He seemed so astoundingly vital it could have been catching.

"Would you like to join me?" Roald asked after a longer pause than most people would have found comfortable.

Tony jerked, realizing he'd been dazzled. "Sorry," he said. "I'm standing here like a dolt, aren't I?"

"You aren't a dolt," Roald said. "And my invitation wasn't mere politeness."

He patted the bench beside him. Tony didn't think the fae was using his juice on him. Nevertheless, he felt helpless to do anything but sit.

Roald let another silence pass. Tony tried not to squirm.

"Do you know what these are?" Roald asked at last. He opened his right hand, revealing the object he'd been contemplating when Tony walked up on him.

"They look like the electrum knuckles the dying faerie gave my brother in the subway." Tony squinted at the rings. "They're not exactly the same. These seem newer."

"They are newer." Roald sounded approving. "They belonged to the faerie my daughter killed."

"Ah," Tony said.

This was hardly a brilliant comment, but Roald didn't seem to mind. Maybe he liked being in teacher mode. Neatly avoiding getting nicked by the weapon's spikes, he flipped the thing around one-handed. "These are called protector gauntlets. People who defend dragon keepers wear them, and they can assume different shapes: swords, gloves, these knuckles that you see. They're difficult to fashion, almost a lost art. Whoever made this one knew what he was doing."

"I see," Tony said, though he really didn't. Faeries' ages were hard to gauge, but it seemed Cass's father was old enough to be eccentric.

"Would you like to try it on?" He held out the gleaming thing. "It's a beautiful instrument."

Tony shrank back without thinking. "When I touched my brother's, it zapped me."

Roald smiled, and Tony's brain cells went slightly numb. "I don't think this one will."

Tony didn't want to risk it. He needed no more reminders that his brother was the special one.

"Maybe some other time," he said politely. He stood, drawing Roald's attention up with him.

"As you wish, young wolf," Roald said.

His formality reminded Tony of the fae he'd pursued to the motorcycle shop.

"What was his name?" he blurted. "The fae I chased, the one your daughter killed."

"Ceallach," Cass's father said. "He had to die, but his loss saddens."