Catastrophic Attraction - Eve Langlais Page 0,37
great honor.”
“Your Majesty wants to see the person in charge of this place. Now.” Roark lowered his voice.
Casey stepped closer, sticking to the shadows, doubting he could see her without his magic. When the man from the desk ran from the room, she went to skirt the table, only to jolt as Roark’s arm shot out and grabbed her.
“I don’t think so. What is this place?”
She played dumb. “You tell me.”
“I followed you.”
“After I told you not to.” Exasperation huffed the statement.
“I don’t like secrets.”
“No one does. Which is why I’m here. I planned to ferret some out. Guess that won’t be happening now.” She rolled her eyes.
“If you didn’t want your plan screwed with, then perhaps you should have told me about it.”
“Told you about the underworld you failed to notice?”
“I noticed it,” he growled. “But I chose to leave it alone because, by acknowledging it, I have to do something.”
“Why?”
“Because it’s wrong.”
“Only if people are unwilling.”
“Fine, then I don’t like it.” He grimaced at the bland space. “Procreation should be about more than the mix of genes.”
“Don’t tell me you believe in love?” She couldn’t help an incredulous note.
“Don’t tell me you don’t.”
Did she? She’d never actually thought about it.
The man returned, flushed and nervous. “Um, the ah, will see you.”
“You might as well give me their name.” Roark stared at the man.
Casey noticed he didn’t use the greeter’s name. Probably because he still couldn’t read minds. His intent gaze proved enough cajolement.
“Our patrons know him as the Earl of Ova.”
“Not just breaking my laws but giving himself rank, too.” Roark did not sound pleased.
“Reminds me of someone else I know,” she muttered.
“Not the same,” was his terse reply as they were led to a second office.
The walls of the space were an indeterminate color under all the creeping vines in a riot of greens and the flowers blooming in every shade of pink imaginable. The male behind the more traditional desk proved younger than expected for a self-styled earl with only hints of gray at the temples. He wore formal attire comprised of a sleeveless tunic down to mid-thigh and belted, pantaloons tight at the ankles, and sandals. His blond hair was in ringlets around his head. His eyes a vivid blue.
A handsome man with a dimple when he smiled. “Your Majesty, you do me great honor.” He even sketched a deep and graceful bow.
“I don’t think we’ve met,” Roark said.
“We haven’t, and I am most honored you’ve chosen to seek me out.” The Earl twirled his hand in a half bow. “I am Raphael.”
“The guy outside called you the Earl of Ova,” Casey retorted, moving to flank the king while watching the vines at her back. Had one of them moved?
“Just a playful title that amuses those who need my services.”
“Your services are why I’m here.” Roark crossed his arms. “I know you’re dabbling in genetic pairings.”
Raphael kept his smile low key. “That would be illegal. I provide a matchmaking service, allowing lonely individuals that might have common interests a method of meeting each other.”
She almost snickered at the spin the self-appointed earl put on it.
Roark might have said many things at that point, but the bright blue eyes turned in her direction. Eyed her up and down and then said, “Don’t tell me this is the Casey I’ve heard about. You are much more ravishing than the pictures I’ve seen.”
That ruined any pleasure at his compliment. “What pictures?”
“The ones taken. For my records, of course. Everyone in the city is documented. Never know when I’ll come across someone who might be perfect for you.” Was it her, or was there an implicit threat in those words?
“Everyone?” Roark repeated.
“Just about.”
“So if I said I wanted to find a female with a few furry tails or perhaps someone with a bit of demon in his bloodline…”
Raphael lost his smile. “We don’t deal in that kind of deviancy.”
“Don’t tell me you have a line,” Roark scoffed.
“While some level of movement from the baseline is normal, the types of things you had in your dungeon…” Raphael shook his head. “Those weren’t people.”
“Just because they were made in a tank—”
The earl interrupted her. “The tank is only part of it. To mix demon with human, successfully, requires manipulation of a kind that is inherently wrong.”
“Manipulation how?” Roark asked.
“Some work metal, some fire. Others can work the cell blocks of life itself.”
“A monster maker,” Casey breathed.
“In a sense.”
“Do you know who’s doing it?” Roark asked.
Raphael shook his head. “Just rumors that