Shadow's End (Elder Races #9)

“Of course you can,” Graydon said. The cafeteria was located just one story below the penthouse. The upper stories of Cuelebre Tower were secure, so he told Liam, “You go on to the cafeteria.”


Liam paused on the steps to look back at him. “Aren’t you coming?”

“I’m gonna check in with your mom and dad,” he told the boy. “Come back up to the penthouse when you’re done eating.”

“Okay,” said Liam. He gave Graydon a hug and a quick smile. “Thanks for letting me hang out with you this evening.”

His expression softened, and he returned the hug. “My pleasure, sport.”

He watched as Liam ran ahead, then he continued on his way to the penthouse.

That evening, Dragos and Pia had attended one of the major political functions of the year, a kick-off event that started two weeks of meetings, suppers and balls that surrounded the winter holiday celebrations.

For the Elder Races, the time around the summer solstice was the main political season. Winter solstice marked a smaller, secondary season. Some politics were involved, but those meetings tended to be quieter and smaller.

Much of the focus of the winter season was social, as it was the time to celebrate the Masque of the Gods. Every year in New York, the numbers of the Elder Races swelled as Dragos hosted one of the biggest, most elaborate masques in the world, and dignitaries and celebrities came from all the other demesnes to attend.

Once Graydon stepped inside the penthouse, he set his rifle aside gently. His cell phone vibrated again, and he pulled it out of his pocket to check his messages.

The messages app was still open to his unsent text.

He gazed down at it. He hadn’t typed, “I need to see you,” as he had intended.

Instead, his screen read: I need you.

The cool silence in the spacious, luxurious apartment pressed against his ears. Gently, he tapped the erase button until the text disappeared.

Pia appeared in the doorway. She had slipped off her faux fur stole and carried it slung over one shoulder. Up close, she was even more eye catching, as the sequins in her dress picked up every fraction of light and magnified it.

She and Dragos had not yet made a formal announcement about the fact that she was pregnant again. So far, only their inner circle knew. While she hadn’t yet begun to show, the pregnancy suited her. Her skin and hair looked more lustrous than ever.

She gave him a tired, cheerful smile. “Everything go all right?”

“Of course,” he told her. “I love spending time with Liam. He’s gone to get a second supper in the cafeteria.”

She shook her head. “Why does that not surprise me?”

“He’ll be up in a half an hour or so.”

Dragos entered the room, his tuxedo tie loosened. He had shrugged out of his jacket and rolled up his sleeves. He nodded a greeting to Graydon.

Even though Graydon had already heard a preliminary report, he asked, “How did the evening go?”

With a cynical twist of his lips, Dragos replied, “Same old, same old.”

Pia rolled her eyes. Leaning against the end of the couch, she slipped off her sparkly high heeled pumps.

“There was plenty of ammunition for the gossip magazines. The Light Fae ambassador from Brazil got drunk, took off all his clothes and went for a swim in the big fountain in the hotel lobby, and the heir to the Algerian witches demesne vomited all over the Demonkind prime minister’s Stuart Weitzman diamond stiletto shoes.” She paused thoughtfully. “If you ask me, I think he did that on purpose. The prime minister was being very snippy.”

Graydon gave her a brief smile, then turned to Dragos. “I know it’s late, but I need a few moments.”

Dragos and Pia exchanged a glance. Bending to scoop up her shoes in one hand, she said, “I’m headed for a shower and bed.”

“I’ll wait for Liam to get back and join you later,” Dragos told her.

She nodded and padded over to kiss Graydon on the cheek. “Goodnight, Gray.”

A rush of affection hit him. Pia had only come into their lives a year and a half ago, but now he couldn’t imagine life without her.

“Goodnight, cupcake,” he replied, patting her back.

Both men watched her disappear down the hall. She closed the door to their master suite and a few moments later, Graydon heard a faint, distinct sound of water running.

Only then did Dragos move. He strolled to the bar located at one end of the spacious living room, sloshed brandy into two snifters and returned to hand one of the glasses to Graydon.

“Step out onto the balcony with me,” Dragos said. “I could use some fresh air.”

Graydon blew out a breath. “Sure.”

Outside, the wind was knifelike, but both Wyr males generated enough body heat that the cold felt refreshing. Dragos lifted his face and took a deep breath, the line of his wide shoulders easing.

Graydon couldn’t join him in relaxing. The vision pushed along the edges of his awareness, seeking to take over his mind again. His muscles tightened against the instinctive urge to shift and launch into the night.