Not Your Ex's Hexes (Supernatural Singles, #2)(94)
He’d told himself that he couldn’t have gone to the fundraiser even if she’d asked. Not with a new equine resident arriving first thing in the morning. And now with Jasper’s freak-out, he was especially glad he hadn’t left.
FBs didn’t serve as escorts to upscale, high-society events where everyone talked about who was wearing what, and who was wearing who. Especially if that FB was him. Those puff-and-parades were more Julius’s thing, a stage where he could flaunt his stuff and his latest side piece.
Yet he couldn’t help wondering what it would’ve been like to have Rose on his arm … to hold her close for a dance or two. Without clothes. With clothes. Dressed in a four-layer snowsuit. It didn’t matter. He just liked having her nearby.
And fuck … that’s why he’d tried keeping his distance the last few days. He liked having her around too damn much for it to be good for either of them.
Jasper’s tail flicked wildly, and he kicked again, this time the force splintering the edge of the door.
Miguel looked at him expectantly. “Ian…”
Damian sighed. “Fine. I’ll call her … because if I don’t, we’ll be treating him for a broken leg on top of whatever this is.”
He reluctantly pulled out his cell and dialed, and when she didn’t answer, he left a message on her voice mail to call him back. But a few minutes later, when he and Miguel floated the idea of giving Jasper a sedative, Damian realized he couldn’t wait for her to see his message.
He jumped on his bike, and using the back way, arrived at Guastavino’s in record time. In the trees lining the entryway, pristine white lights glittered, basking the historical building in a magical glow that purposefully resembled a wintry city wonderland. The large curved windows displayed the glammed-up partygoers inside as they danced and talked, oblivious to the chaotic world outside.
Pulling over to the curb, Damian slipped off his bike and yanked off his helmet.
A red-jacketed valet gave him a long once-over. “I think you’re in the wrong place, dude.”
Damian handed him a fifty. “And I think you’ll keep this bike right here until I get back, dude. I’ll be less than ten minutes.”
The young guy contemplated it a few seconds before shrugging and shoving the money in his pocket. “Whatever floats your boat, dude.”
Damian hustled up to the front door only to be stopped by a tuxedoed guard checking invitations. “Sorry, sir, but I need to see your invitation, which if you had one, you would’ve also seen that there’s a dress code.”
Damian wrestled his demon for control, but he glanced at his dirtied jeans and flannel work shirt. Hell, he wouldn’t let himself in to an event like this, either. “Trust me, I don’t want to be here any longer than necessary. I need to find one of your guests, and then my eyesore self will be out of your hair.”
“I suggest you call them to come out here to you.”
“Gee, why didn’t I think of that? Oh, that’s right … because I tried.”
The guard was Norm. A quick flash of his demon eyes, and Damian could easily force him aside. But he really didn’t want to do that, especially with the bastard playing peekaboo all too easily lately.
“Damian?” Julius appeared behind the gatekeeper, and like the valet and the guard, took in his disheveled appearance. “Glad to see you dressed up for the occasion, brother.”
“I’m not in the mood for your humor, or anything else from you, Jules. I need Rose.”
His brother’s smile slowly melted. “Is everything okay?”
Damian gave him withering look.
“Right. You don’t owe me answers.” He turned to the door guard. “It’s okay. He’s with me.”
The guard shifted awkwardly on his feet. “But I’m under direct orders not to let anyone in who doesn’t have an invitation.”
“And I’m giving you new orders.”
“But—”
“Look.” Julius clapped his hand on the other man’s shoulder. “You could refuse him entry, saying you were only doing your job, but then I’ll be forced to find that gorgeous Prima Apparent, Miss Violet Maxwell, and tell her you’re refusing to let in one of her guests.”
The Norm’s face paled. “The Prima Apparent?”
Julius nodded.
The man gulped nervously. He whispered, “She scares me. I saw that video of what she did to that former European Alpha, and I didn’t sleep for a week.”
“You’re a smart man to be scared because she’s a formidable woman, and I don’t have to remind you that she’s Mated to the North American Alpha, right?”
The guard gulped. “No…”
“This man right here”—Julius nodded toward Damian—“happens to be Lincoln Thorne’s best friend. Knowing that, if you still want to deny him entry, you are a braver man than myself.”
The guard bounced his gaze from Julius to Damian and back. “You’ll take full responsibility for him?”
“Total.”
“And you won’t let him out of your sight?”
“Not for a second.”
“If I get reprimanded for letting him inside…”
“You won’t be, and if someone tries, I’ll tell them I used Compulsion on you, okay?”