"This was a bad idea." Atticus groaned for the hundredth time.

"This was your idea!" Nolan snapped, getting out of the car and handing his keys to the valet before taking his and Atticus's suit jackets from the back seat.

They stood at entrance to the front gardens to the event hall. One glance and they could tell they weren't the only ancients there. They were also bordering on the edge of underdressed. Rhia had told them black-tie, but they clearly should have talked to Madeline first. This was a lot closer to white tie, and both men weren't wearing vests. All the other men were wearing vests and the women were wearing full-length gowns.

At the center of the gardens was an enormous fountain, spouting water in a dance around marble statues of nearly naked women. A white peacock strut between the flower beds like it owned the place. Nolan wouldn't have been surprised to see several more around the property. Waiters carried trays of champaign and hors d'oeuvres to offer to guests. "So much luxury," Atticus muttered. "Just for an art show?"

"You two still think this has anything to do with art?"

They both turned to see Maddox walking towards them. His jacket was tucked under his arm, the sleeves to his shirt rolled up to his elbows, and a flask in his free hand. He looked like shit. His tie was crooked, the top couple buttons of his shirt undone. There was an angry purple bruise under his left eye that was most certainly fresh, and an uneven swagger to his walk.

"Gods damnit, Maddox." Nolan groaned. "Are you drunk?"

"Not yet." He bit back. "And why shouldn't I be drinking? My sister's a dragonkin, my dad is wanted by the counsel, my partner is..." He interrupted his tangent by taking a drink. He glared at Atticus. "What the hell are you doing here anyway?"

"I'm handling security inside the event."

Maddox snorted. "Security. Because you're real good at that."

He stepped past them and headed towards the open doors. "What the hell was that about?" Nolan asked as they followed him.

"He's angry I wouldn't let him take Nova's place." Atticus sighed heavily.

"He what? Why?"

"He thinks he can get in on his father's operation. Which is pointless since no one can find him."

"It's not unrealistic to think that."

"That's not the point." Atticus rolled his eyes. "He's hurting. He wants something to distract himself or focus his anger on and my operation is not the place for it. Besides, he's a beat cop. Good intentions or otherwise, there's nothing I can do with him until he's higher up in the ranks."

Nolan could only nod. He knew the pain Maddox felt. He understood the anger, the desire to do something... anything.

The two men donned their jackets and walked up the steps and into the enormous hall. Black curtains covered the walls, giving the mounted paintings a sharp contrast. Sculptures made from various mediums were scattered around the floor and illuminated from below. Women were dressed in an array of colours and sparkling gems. The men beside them looked positively plain. "This was a bad idea." Atticus said again.

"For gods' sake, why? This is an incredible interspecies arrangement. The dragonkin are even working with us. We are as prepared as we can be. Why was this a bad idea?!"

"Not the plan." Atticus gave Nolan a guilty look. "I... kind of invited someone."

"Like... a date?"

"Yeah."

Nolan gave him his best disappointed-father raised eyebrow. "You invited a date to a covert operation where you are attempting to draw in and arrest a man who is known to be outwardly cruel to any ancient race?"

"Oh, come on. If Kincaid does show up, he'll be stopped by the dragonkin, or the shifters, or the vampires long before he makes it here. This is the safest place to be."

"Or," Nolan chuckled. "Because you want to show someone with the title of princess that you know how to class things up."

Atticus's face was blank, but his heart thundered loud enough that mortals could have heard it. "There's a princess here?"

Nolan recognized Rhia's voice and happily turned to explain, but every word died before they reached his tongue. Rhia's dress was formfitting to her hips before flaring out loosely to the floor. The satin was soft silvery grey covered by a near transparent white tulle material adorned with flower embroidery. Her fiery hair was pulled off her bare shoulders in an organized mess of curls and knots. A few strands had been pulled away to frame her face, drawing attention to her eyes. The glamour changed her pupils, but it did nothing to dim the brilliance of the emerald colour.

It wasn't until a knowing smile crossed her lips that he realized his jaw was slack. She knew exactly how beautiful she was. Confidence looked damn good on her. Atticus said something about finding a drink and excused himself. "What do you think? She asked, twirling.

The skirt flared out, sparkling in the dim light of the hall. She was wearing an impressive set of heels that brought her up to six feet. "You are..." he couldn't think of anything appropriate to say. Every word just wasn't enough.

"It's too much, isn't it?"

"No! No, its... you're... You are absolutely stunning."

"Not too bad yourself. Although, I was half expecting you to wear the tailcoat."

She beamed up at him and stepped closer. He eagerly took her in his arms and lowered his head to kiss her softly. "You don't smell like death today." He mused.

She raised her wrists and jiggled a clunky silver bracelet that didn't match the other jewelry she was wearing. "Apparently the herbs work in their raw form without the smell. Not nearly as effective, I am acutely aware of every person with a Y chromosome in this hall... but I'm also not fantasizing about each and every one of them. Except you, of course."

"Ooh, lucky me."

"Yes, indeed." something sparkled in her eyes. "Now, if you want those fantasies to stay the fun kind, then you had better tell me what the absolute fuck Constantine is doing here."

Anger. It was anger that danced behind the glamour. He looked over his shoulder to see Constantine speaking to a group of young women. He was covered, head to toe, in a powerful glamour spell, giving him an almost normal appearance. His skin was pale, but not paper white. The black marks were gone. His hair turned a dusty brown and brushed back into a knot at the back of his head. His tuxedo was almost vintage but fit in perfectly with the gathering.

"You recognized him?" Nolan said, unable to hide how impressed he was.

"I would recognize the smell of Maker's Mark and blood anywhere." She seethed. "What. is. he. doing. here?"

"Rhia," he said carefully.

"Nolan," she hissed warningly, and her eyes flickered dangerously between a circular and more oval.

"He's here to help. I told you there would be vampires among the patrols."

"Then he should be out there with them."

"He is here for the same reason Atticus is. For the same reason Keoni and Juniper are within earshot of this place. It is easier to coordinate from here. Besides," He took her hand to wrap it around his elbow and pulled her gently towards the vampire king. "You're going to be seeing a lot of him in France. You two need to figure out how to live with each other."

"Does it have to be now?" she scowled.

"Will waiting make it any better?"

"He threatened me, pardon me for not being eager to talk to him again."

"My dear, Rhia," Constantine turned to them and gave her a genuinely charming smile. "I never once threatened you. I made an offer to make you strong to keep you safe."

He caught her free hand and pulled it up to his lips. Her attempts to pull away were met with a stronger grip on her wrist. "I remember," she hissed. "You were so kind to withdraw the payment of sleeping with you."

His lips send chills dancing across her skin, and she couldn't tell if they were chills of disgust or a reaction from her being in heat.

"I did indeed." His eyes were a dark brown from the glamour, but they kept flickering back and forth between that and the red colour. "I only have your and Nolan's best interest at heart."

"What heart?"

Finally, she was able to rip her hand out of his grip. Constantine chuckled while Nolan let out a sigh. "Civility," he said softly. "That's all I'm asking."

"He tried to eat me!"

"Trust me, Miss Kincaid, if I truly wanted to feed from you that morning, you wouldn't have known about it until you were screaming in pleasure." He licked his lips.

Nolan pinched the bridge of his nose and made a pained sound.

"Nolan, perhaps you can give us a private moment." Constantine never looked away from Rhia. "Allow us an opportunity to clear the air."

Nolan stared at him, his jaw going slack, and then looked down at Rhia. "I don't think..."

"I'll be fine, Nolan." She snapped. "What can he do to me that hasn't already been done?"

"Only a bed and time can tell us that, ma chére."

He sighed again before backing away. When he was far enough away, Rhia spoke in a low tone. "So how are we going to do this?"

"Do? Miss Kincaid, we do not do anything. You are a dragonkin. I am the vampire king. You and I are at a stalemate with regards to what we can actually do to each other. But we both need Nolan, and I think we are both in agreement that we do not need each other."

"Understatement."

Constantine suddenly relaxed, the smirk turning into a disarming smile. It was like there was a real person under the mask of a self-centered bastard. "I do not particularly like you, Miss Kincaid. I do not need to. But you are quickly earning my... grudging respect. Not many have caught me off guard with physical violence." He tapped his jaw with his finger, reminding her of the first time they met. "Nolan just might need you more than you think where we're going."

"I thought you didn't care about his humanity."

"I don't. He is better off when it isn't affecting his conscience. But there is a delicate balance to maintain. What he becomes when he gives up on his humanity is much worse than you can ever imagine. I caught a mere glimpse of the monster he can be. And while I would like nothing more than to have Raphaël's head on a spike moments after our return, I would not trade my friend for it."

Rhia blinked, surprised by his dulcet tone and the honesty in his words. "Careful, Constantine," she said softly. "Someone might think you actually care."

He chuckled lightly. "Give him a reason to feel something, Miss Kincaid, and you will have nothing to fear from me."

"Keep your hands to yourself, and your fangs away from my neck," she hissed back. "And we won't find out just how hard I can hit you now that I've awakened."

Rhia turned sharply and walked away from the arrogant prick. Nolan all but flew to her side. "Are you alright?" he asked quickly.

She took a deep breath and smiled up at him. "I am. We actually have something in common."

He raised an eyebrow. "Really? What on earth would that be."

She reached up to wrap her hands around his neck, pulled him to her, and kissed him deeply, trying to convey as much affection as she could. She could almost feel her body reacting to his touch and the pheromones rolling off her skin. His fangs descended behind his lips and he pulled away with a low hiss.

"We both really care about you." She whispered. His eyes were an ocean of blue that she could spend the rest of her life getting lost in. She let him go before people would start staring and took a steading breath. "I'm going to get a drink."

He nodded wordlessly and watched her walk away. Rhia leaned heavily against the bar and ordered a glass of white wine, whatever was coldest and available, and the bartender returned with... she didn't hear the brand or year, or anything else. It was cold and sweet and, most importantly, alcohol.

"Alcohol makes the glamour harder to control." Came a soft voice beside her.

She turned to give a sarcastic response but froze. The woman was tall and gorgeous. Her long hair was a perfect platinum blonde and twisted over her shoulder and her eyes were an impossible light pink colour. The mermaid-style dress was made from a rich navy satin and was probably even more expensive than the one Rhia was wearing. "Good to know." She heard herself say. "Sorry, who are you?"

Her skin seemed to shimmer, and her eyes widened. "Oh, gods, I am so sorry. My name is Zesstra. I did not mean to intrude, it is just... the more you use glamour the easier it becomes to recognize when someone else is. You just scream rookie mage."

"Really?"

"Yeah." Zesstra regained her confidence, and her smile grew wider. "You are using way too much power to change the appearance of a small area. I do not want to assume, but going through a rough emotional patch can make it hard to control too."

"That is," Rhia chuckled. "An adequate way of putting things. Would you like a drink?"

"Please." Zesstra gave her a curious look. "I do not mean to pry, but... do you happen to be the human who turned out to be half-blood dragonkin?"

Tension rippled through Rhia and looked around to see if anyone else heard. "That hasn't ben publicly released yet, has it?" she asked in a rushed whisper.

"No, no, do not worry. At least, not officially. The rumor mill is working overtime, but I had some insider information from Lords Wes and Shaw."

"Nolan told you?!" she choked and looked around the room again, this time with the intention of finding and killing the vampire.

"No!" Zesstra reached out and took Rhia's hand. "I am saying this all wrong. All I meant was that Lord Wes questioned me after the incident due to my particular situation. My peoples' magic has a history with the dragonkin, so I put two and two together. Please, I do not mean to cause any trouble between you."

Rhia took a deep breath, and her hand went to the bracelet around her wrist, reminding her of the herbs counteracting her heat hormones. "Sorry," she said slowly. "What do you mean 'your people'?"

"The dark elves."

She went rigid again. She couldn't stop the image of the cruel male from the dark realm. The twisted smile, his excitement from her pain...

She took several more deep breaths. This girl was not him. She wasn't even the woman he'd been with. She was different.

"Are you alright?" Zesstra asked carefully.

"Yeah. Sorry. Just... remembering the last time I met some of your people. And on top of everything else I'm in heat, so I'm a bit more sensitive than usual."

Much to Rhia's pleasure, Zesstra latched onto the different topic. "But it must be nice to know exactly when you are likely to conceive."

"I could do without it. I'm dating a vampire, he can't get me pregnant regardless. Your species doesn't have a heat or some other indicator?"

"No, elves do not go into heat." She giggled softly. "Unfortunately, our reproduction cycles are a touch unpredictable. We can track them by magic, but it is still highly subjective. We consider each pregnancy a gift from our respective gods or goddesses."

"Okay, I just have to say I find it fascinating that elves, elves of all species, still believe in a higher power. I mean, you are the higher power to humans."

Zesstra lifted her shoulders in a dainty shrug. "Faith is a concept of life, not humanity. We tend to see the dragons as gods, but even they have faith in something higher, even if it's something as primal as magic."

"You talk about magic like it's... alive."

"Because it is. Not the way you or I experience life, but alive nonetheless. How else do you explain the concept of love?"

"Philosophy was never my best subject, so I'm going with an unhealthy amount of oxytocin, dopamine, and serotonin being dumped into our systems."

She giggled again. "You think of things too literally. Think back to when you first met Nolan. That first spark of interest. That light in his eyes when he looks at you. Do you really think chemicals are solely responsible for that?"

"That's what the science says."

"There is more than one kind of science, Rhia."

Rhia said nothing for a few seconds. She stared across the room at Nolan, speaking to a group of men with Constantine beside him. Was there more to their coming together than just circumstance? Was she willing to believe that?

"So, who looks at you with that light?" She turned to Zesstra, not willing to consider the concept of soulmates... or whatever the elf was implying. "Or who are you hoping will look at you with that light."

Zesstra's smile was innocent and pure as she looked down at her drink before her lilac eyes looked across the room. Rhia followed her gaze and her jaw dropped.

"Atticus?" she gasped. "You're the princess he was talking about?"

"I am not really a princess." She groaned quietly. "I am one of the last in my bloodline, and no one wants to be the face of the dark elves, as you can probably understand, but the other elven lords will not accept leaders of a clan without the title. I was not raised in a palace, I did not have servants at my beck and call, and I do not know extraordinary wealth. For goodness' sake, I lived on the south side of Chicago until I was ten years old. If you think the streets of Los Angeles are rough for Ancients, well..."

She looked nervously down at her drink. Rhia couldn't help smiling. Zesstra was so innocent, it was adorable. "I bet if you told him that, he wouldn't feel like he needs to try so hard to impress you." She told her.

"It is a playground crush." She sighed. "He represents my people on the Counsel, and the elders would never allow me to fraternize with a shifter. They think the bloodline is diluted enough."

"I don't see any dark elf elders here right now."

"No... but what are we supposed to talk about? I know nothing of human art. I have no money to make a purchase here."

Rhia covered her mouth to hide her snort of laughter. "Sorry," she chuckled at Zesstra's confused look. "I keep forgetting that Ancients aren't quite aware of the real purpose behind modern art."

"I... I do not understand."

"Do you see that man Nolan is talking to? The one who looks like he could start a grease fire if anyone lit up a little too close to his hair?"

"I do."

"That is the CEO of a pharmaceutical company based out of Seattle. His base salary, ignoring all of the added bonuses, is well into seven digits. But, like many people who make more in a month than most people do in a year, he is not satisfied with Uncle Sam taking a large chunk out of his paycheck for taxes. Uncle Sam is-"

"I understand the reference. Please, continue."

"Right. Anyway, every year he comes to this party with the sole purpose of writing a big, fat, five-digit cheque made out to my mother's non-profit organization, then he goes and buys three to four pieces from various artists. Then he spends the rest of the night drinking the best liquor money can buy and kissing the asses of America's most sleezy. Come tax time, his accountant will claim this and other big charitable donations he's made throughout the year. The art he purchased will have been given as 'gifts' to various organizations and will also be claimed as such. A few weeks later, he'll have a return cheque from the government that is mostly, if not completely, tax free."