Bane's Choice (Vampire Motorcycle Club #1) - Alyssa Day Page 0,103

her.

“How much do we owe you? I’ll go get my purse.”

Jane waved her away. “Meara keeps us on retainer. And she includes tips, too, so you’re good. Just put in a good word for us to your fancy friends tonight, if anybody asks, okay? We working girls need all the help we can get these days.”

“I hear you,” Ryan said, but she could tell from their discreet glances at each other that they thought she was a rich socialite or something.

“Well, thank you again. I can’t tell you how much I appreciate it.”

They showed themselves out, and Ryan went back to admiring herself in the mirror because, damn, she was worth admiring.

“Warrior goddess, indeed,” she murmured. “This is almost a Pretty Woman moment, except without the prostitution.”

Meara came out of her bedroom then. “What are you talking about? You do realize you’re a very odd human, right? Or—I guess I can’t say that anymore, little Nephilim.”

“You could lose the ‘little,’ too.” She turned around and actually gasped out loud. “Meara! You’re too beautiful to even be real!”

The vampire wore a coppery-colored sheath that hugged her slim form and perfectly complemented her amazing golden eyes. Her hair was twisted up in a knot, she wore ridiculously high heels and simple jewelry, and the entire effect was stunning.

“I know,” Meara said, preening, but then she whistled. “Why, Dr. St. Cloud. You’re an absolute beauty. My brother is not going to know what hit him.”

“Neither will Computer Guy,” Ryan said, grinning.

Meara looked away, a faint blush staining her perfect cheekbones. “Not that I care.”

“Of course not,” Ryan agreed, tongue firmly in cheek.

Meara narrowed her eyes but didn’t rise to the bait. “Shall we go, then?”

“We shall. But the hardest part of tonight might be negotiating the stairs in these heels.” Ryan laughed. “I’m not exactly good at this. I wear sensible shoes at work.”

“Sensible shoes.” Meara shuddered. “We need to get you a new job.”

“Speaking of that,” Ryan began, thinking of the clinic and her new abilities. Her new plans.

“Later. Now, we go dance.”

…

Bane paced back and forth at the bottom of the stairs, from the kitchen to the salon, changing his mind at least a hundred times about allowing Ryan to attend this damn ball with him.

Not that she’d let him get away with the idea of “allowing” her to do anything.

But if Constantin and Sylvie had an army backing them up, he didn’t want Ryan anywhere near the place.

And yet, he didn’t want her to be alone, where he couldn’t protect her, if the necromancers were coordinating an attack on him.

“Damn them,” he snarled.

Edge shot him an impatient look from his perch on a chair in the parlor. “Damn who, exactly? The Chamber? The warlocks? The shifters? Meara and Ryan, who have been making us wait here, dressed up like penguins, for more than an hour?”

Bane stopped pacing and grinned at the scientist. “Hey. You may be a penguin, but I make this tuxedo look good.”

Edge rolled his eyes. He’d definitely been hanging out with Meara too much.

A slight noise alerted him to Ryan finally arriving at the top of the stairs, and he walked out to the hallway to wait for her.

And then, for the second time that day, the bottom fell out of his world.

It wasn’t the clothes.

It wasn’t the paint on her face.

Or the way her hair was done, or the fancy shoes.

It was the sheer joy—the confidence and delight—in her expression when she looked down at him that punched him right in the gut. She was his, this woman, this fascinating, infuriating, warrior goddess; he knew it utterly and completely in that moment, and his heart expanded in his chest until he thought it must burst free of skin and bone and fill the room.

Mine.

“What do you think?” She held her skirt up and showed him her shoes. “Pretty much a Cinderella moment, right?”

“You’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever known, but that has nothing to do with the dress,” he told her, his sincerity ringing in his voice.

Her answering smile lit up the world.

Chapter Forty-One

Bane stared up at the front of the historic mansion and remembered when the home had been built, back in the early 1900s, along with so many of the homes that were now registered in Savannah’s National Historic Landmark District.

Maybe that made him a national historic landmark, too.

Ryan took a tighter hold on his arm and sighed after Tommy, departing in the limo. “I vote we go watch movies and order