Supernatural Seduction (Book 2 of the Coffin Girls Series) (11 page)

“Ah,” she quipped. “So, it’s both then. Tell
me, brother, what foolish mission has the bitch-Goddess sent you on
now?”

“Watch it, Vérène,” Sylvain warned. “She may
be your nemesis, but she’s still a goddess. As much as it may pain
you to hear, there are more powerful women than you.”

Vérène merely shrugged, seemingly
uninterested in his comment. Sylvain had always wondered what had
set her off. Why had she rebelled against the goddess and thus
destroyed the fabric of Fae society? It was pointless to ask her to
explain. He’d in fact, begged her to tell him, but she’d repeatedly
refused. So, he’d let it go. When whatever anger she’d harbored
silently within, spilled out and threatened to destroy both the
human and supernatural worlds, he’d been forced to take steps.
These steps still left a horrid taste in his mouth and an ache in
his heart that family alone could heal. Sylvain regarded her and
wished things were different. He would have loved to hug his sister
and chat with her as they had before. But, there was no use wishing
for what was done and could not be undone.

“We’re not getting anywhere,” he informed
her. “You are right. I haven’t called you before and yes, there is
a woman or rather women, and it does involve the goddess.” He stood
up from the throne and held out his hand to her. “Join me and I’ll
fill you in?”

Tentatively, she took his hand. They both
closed their eyes and reveled in the power coursing through their
essence. As children, they’d laughed and fiddled with their joined
powers, familiarizing themselves with it. As rulers, they’d often
used it to the trepidation of their enemies. And, by the look on
her face, Sylvain realized that he had not been the only one
suffering from their separation.

Taking the first step towards a truce, he
grasped her hand a bit tighter, then looked into her open eyes. Her
stark gaze revealed neither hatred nor disdain for her sibling.
Instead, he saw hurt. Puzzled by it, yet knowing that probing would
get him nowhere, he gently stated. “It’s been too long, sister.
While our kingdoms cannot be joined again, I regret that you and I
waited so long to meet. I also appreciate you taking the time to
come here.”

Vérène shrugged yet again, and Sylvain
wondered what myriad of internal conflicts and hurt the mannerism
hid. “You’re my brother, Sylvain,” Vérène said sincerely, firmly.
“No matter what, we’re family, and I’ll always have your back.”

“‘Except once!” Sylvain thought. At the most
important time in his life, she’d let him down. Letting it go to
focus on the now, he offered her a seat. He’d conjured a lovely
patio table and chairs amidst a light, airy garden with a variety
of herbs and potted plants offering a profusion of bright, bold
colors. It was a replica of the garden they used to sit in as
children. Then, she’d manipulated him into playing tea with her
pixie playmates. Now, he’d conjured it in the middle of the throne
room so that they would find some comfort during their
discussion.

After Sylvain retold the events concerning
the trickster, Vérène sat back, and thought about it. Sylvain
sipped the hot, strong coffee he’d called for from his Brazilian
hollow and waited. This was her modus operandi. His sister was
nothing if not calculating; a characteristic that ensured that she
always came out on top. And when she didn’t, point blank denial,
and convincing the victor they were wrong, sorted things out to her
satisfaction.

“I’ve never understood the true purpose of
tricksters. Sure, they test the truth to people’s resolutions –
well that of all creatures except Gods, the two of us, and your fae
seraphs. Given the extent of the mind-fucks they can create and
their ramifications, I’ve always thought of them as vermin,”
Sylvain’s brow rose in surprise at the admission. Seeing it, Vérène
balked at him, “What, you don’t think I have principles? You should
know me better than that, brother!”

“I know you have principles, sister,” Sylvain
replied. “I’m just surprised that you admit to a dislike of one of
your Unseelie. You’ve always been vehement in your defense of
them.”

“Well, just because I am responsible for
them, and they are my subjects, doesn’t mean that I like all of
them or that I approve of what those that I like do,” she replied
tartly. “I just never did anything about them because they don’t
affect me.” She shrugged yet again.

“Fair enough,” Sylvain nodded. “Thus far this
is a singular attack, but my gut tells me to not dismiss it as
trivial. I strongly suspect that Ayden was involved and through
him, possibly the Vampire Council, too. The next attack may or may
not utilize the services of rogue Unseelie, but to ignore the
possibilities until it occurs wouldn’t be wise.”

“No,” agreed Vérène, “we can’t take the
chance. Despite your perceptions of my people and me, we do not
want carnage. We just like things stirred up and with a bit of a
twist.”

She was agreeing to assist him, so he let it
go.

“I will help you. Not just because you ask,
but because this must be exceedingly important to you as you’ve
broken a three thousand year old separation for it. And of course,
you’re my brother. You may not believe it, but I’d die for
you.”

She, again, surprised him. He remembered that
life had never been tedious around his sister. He felt a nob form
in his throat at the sincerity of her words and almost believed
her. Swallowing it down, he met her gaze. Her eyes too held the
light sheen of tears being pushed back. “Thank you,” he said
simply, sincerely.

Vérène waved away his thanks. “There is much
for me to consider,” Vérène explained. “Whilst I do not trust my
entire kingdom of subjects, I do trust my lords. Gwydion,” she
referred to the Lord of Tricksters, “is loyal to me and would not
have been part of this. Let me think on this and get back to
you.”

After agreeing on the logistics of their next
meeting, Vérène watched Sylvain leave. The thought that he was the
last to arrive and the first to leave popped into her head. She
gave herself a mental scolding for feeling the sting of it and left
the hall.

Arriving in her bedroom at the Dark Castle,
she motioned for one of her handmaidens. The hag, a gruesome
creature that epitomized the viewer’s every visual nightmare, crept
forward. Taking a sip of vampire blood, Vérène shot dark eyes
filled with authority at her minion. “Fetch Gwydion. Now!”

Sophie opened her bedroom door and was
surprised to find Sylvain lounging in a chair on the opposite side
of the passage. Traditionally passageways were not wide enough for
occasional seating areas, but the fae palace was nothing of what
one might expect and everything one might find fantastical. Sylvain
looked debonair in a cream suit and blue shirt, which perfectly
matched his eyes. They were eyes that promised pleasurable
mischief.

“You’re looking quite dashing, monsieur,”
Sophie teased.

“
Merci, ma chérie
,” he replied, eyes
raking over her and setting her skin on fire.

“Are you off somewhere?” Sophie asked.

Sylvain nodded, and then came towards her.
“I’m off to dinner with you,” he replied confidently. She knew she
shouldn’t be nervous, but she felt like a dangerous predator was
stalking her. Sophie smothered the tremor of anticipation that ran
through her.

“Okay…” Sophie hesitated not taking his hand.
For a moment, Sylvain’s confidence waivered, and funny enough, that
act increased her, own. Drat the man for being able to shield from
her!

She took his hand briefly, squeezed, and let
go. “I’ll need to change.” She looked down at her casual summer
dress. No way was she going out with him when he looked like that
and she looked the way she did. They were obviously going somewhere
smart; perhaps the new restaurant in the Garden District. It was
being hailed as the new ‘in’ place to take a date, which was
something Marie had fumed about a minute before she started
plotting ways to steal back their customers.

Sylvain shook his head and grabbed her hand,
“No need.”

Before she knew it, she was dressed in a
champagne gold, flimsy dress of silk and chiffon. It was neither
old-fashioned nor avant garde. In fact, it was an amalgamation
between a western evening dress and harem princess. Her feet were
encased in strappy, flat sandals of gold and diamante. As Sophie
followed him up the stairs on their mysterious date, she noted they
were extremely comfortable. Catching her reflection in a mirror
against the wall of the castle’s top floor foyer, she saw that his
magick had left no detail unattended. Her makeup, naturally light,
with a slight shimmer of gold, matched her outfit. Her hair was
swept up so that gold curls cascaded like a waterfall down her
back. Earrings, of intricate Arabian filigreed design adorned her
ears and matched the bracelets clinking as she moved. He was a
clever man, Sophie thought to herself. Sneaky, but clever. The
surprise date, mysterious destination, and magickal conjuring of
her outfit had rendered her momentarily speechless and into an
accepting follower.

“Where are we going?” Sophie finally found
her voice.

Sylvain shot her a grin and disarmed her once
again. “You’ll see,” he replied, cryptically. “You did say that you
wanted us to get to know each other,” he reminded her.

And trust a guy to bring that up, she
mentally huffed. Feeling unsettled by her lack of control of the
situation, Sophie breathed deeply. She realized breathing had been
a mistake as soon as his scent hit nose. He smelled of security,
strength, comfort, and sex.
Dieu
! Sophie was about to ask
again, when he stopped walking and swooped down for a kiss.

Again, the electric shock they’d felt earlier
jolted them and awakened her 'girly' parts. Her eyes automatically
went to his crotch, wanting to see if it had any effect on him. She
noted the distinctive bulge in his pants. Mouth-watering, she
thought and allowed herself a moment to linger on future images of
orally fixating on that shaft of deliciousness. She moved her gaze
upwards and met his.

Sylvain trailed a finger along her cheek. “I
love that I did this,” he referred to the blood red color of her
eyes. He leaned down and gave her another kiss.

Sophie noted that their chaste kiss had
affected him, also. His eyes had turned a deeper shade of blue.
Emboldened by that knowledge, she cupped him gently, but firmly
through his pants. Sylvain hissed and pulled back, regarding her.
She saw intrigue in his expression.

“And I love that I did this to you, cher,”
she teased then stepped away. “Now, take me to this mysterious
place we’re having dinner at.”

Sylvain considered Sophie. He had initially
been attracted to her tranquil strength. While she was gorgeous, he
was jaded by looks, as the fae were generally beautiful. So, as
lame as it sounded even to him, it was her character that drew him
to her. Now, he looked at Sophie - the-vamp-and-vixen with red eyes
promising satisfaction. He was more than ready to deliver. It would
take little for either of them to seduce the other right now. A
quick roll around in the sheets appealed, but didn’t feel right
with Sophie. He wouldn’t go so far as to say that they had a
relationship going, but they were friends, real friends, and
deserved more than that. She was still looking at him with those
vamp eyes. Grabbing her hands, he pulled them towards the last
flight of stairs that would lead to the rooftop.

The roof of the castle was magnificent; it
overlooked the entire fae hollow. The most startling thing was not
the impact of the view though, it was the magick carpet suspended
in air, right in front of them.

Sophie let out a surprised laugh. “Really? A
flying carpet? That’s our ride?”

Sylvain grinned. It was exactly the response
he’d been aiming for. “Sure,” he shrugged, feigning indifference.
Sophie grinned back as if to say, “Yeah right.”

As soon as they both stood on the carpet, it
transformed into an expansive lounge. Sophie shook her head in
disbelief. If she hadn’t seen it and gotten on, she would have
sworn she was in the lounge area of a penthouse with a view to
relish. She declined the champagne he offered her, content to sit
on the sofa, wrapped in his arms. There was no need for
conversation. There was an unspoken agreement between the two of
them to just sit back and enjoy the journey together.

When the carpet exited the hollow, Sophie
gasped in surprise. They were in what appeared to be a desert oasis
where palm trees dotted the landscape and blue waters broke the
monotony of the desert sand. Multi-leveled, sand-colored buildings,
near replicas of each other were placed here and there and in no
orderly manner. This was definitely a fae hollow as the
inhabitants, although more olive in complexion, looked fae - they
were too beautiful, too ethereal to be anything else. “Where are
we? I thought we’d be in the bayou.”

“The Moroccan hollow,” Sylvain replied. “The
portal goes where ever the fae wishes it to go.”

“But I’m not fae,” Sophie stated,
understanding dawning. “So, because we’re from the bayou, we return
there.” Sylvain nodded. “So, that’s what you do when you go through
the portal. You visit your various hollows.”

“Although I’ve made the bayou hollow my base,
I cannot ignore the rest of my subjects,” Sylvain enlightened. “The
portal provides a convenient way of getting me where I need to
be.”

They’d come to the middle of the hollow and
like with the bayou counterpart, the palace was placed just
off-center of it all. Although it too was flat-roofed and
sand-colored, the building was structurally more intricate with
turrets, walkways, and carvings illustrating an exalted status.

“Your majesty,” a dark-skinned fae came
forward and bowed to Sylvain. Sylvain acknowledged the man with a
nod of his head before the man turned towards Sophie and greeted
her. “All is arranged as you wish,” he informed Sylvain.