Chapter 2

It was the first time he’d tried calling Stella that, instead of her real name, but something about it seemed to fit. She was smaller than him, and at the time, he’d had the feeling the name might piss her off some, in a good way—that it might make her text him back just to yell.

Because the last time he’d seen her she’d been so angry at him, she’d just walked away instead of fighting back.

If he’d had even the slightest clue that that would be the last time he’d get to see her, he’d have never let her out of his sight.

The rattle of the limo pulling onto the cobblestone pavers in front of the Natural History Museum distracted him from his thoughts and refocused him on the present. He’d been to what seemed like a million of these functions as the Beast, making a brief appearance because his philanthropic secretary had begged him to, and then he would leave after giving some senator’s wife a check to rescue kittens or some such—these events were about the pretense of being seen to care, in public, for a group of people whose wealth usually protected them from caring about anything at all.

Which was why there would not be any short, blonde, well-armed women with multiple tattoos here tonight.

The limo came to a stop as Zach clenched his jaw.

“Just remember—Giancarlo,” Austin said, using a hint of an accent, as a valet ran up to the limo’s door to open it for them. Zach strode down a red carpet path without waiting for an obligatory photo op, and Austin closely followed him, acting like a bodyguard.

IT WAS after hours and the only other people at the museum were also attending the gala. Velvet ropes channeled women in sweeping, floor-length dresses and another man looking dapper in tuxedos, all of them walking through the main doors and following the red carpeting in, past an atrium full of mammoth skeletons and towards a broad hall labeled the American Midwest.

There was a pit in the center of the hall where a taxidermied bison was being beset by wolves, and other dioramas lined the walls.

“Friends, Romans, countrymen,” Austin muttered, at seeing wolves on display.

“Have you never been here before?” Zach whispered back, giving his brother a slight glare.

Austin shrugged. “I chose truancy over field trips as a child.” He moved away from Zach’s side to look at the exhibits, and Zach followed him.

One diorama showed ducks in flight over a plexiglass pond with fish frozen inside; another had a colony of prairie dogs in cross-section to feature the creatures above ground and in burrows below. Zach had the idle thought that it would’ve been a Hunter extravaganza, if any of the animals in it had been magical like Zach and his brother innately were, as werewolves.

Layered on top of all the educational opportunities was a strange veneer of glamour. Hip-height vases had extraordinary spills of flowers coming out of them, and waiters circulated freely with caviar crudités and flutes of champagne. After making a slow, thorough circle, Zach had the feeling whatever check he gave them here tonight would likely only cover a portion of the catering bill.

A small chamber orchestra played modern music in a classical style, and the high-ceilinged room was full of echoing conversations that nervously quieted or stopped as he strode near. As the Beast he didn’t pretend to be interested in anyone else’s business but his own, and did his best to maintain the illusion that talking was beneath him.

It’d been a protective measure at first, coming into this job—it was almost always safer to say nothing than to try to participate in the vagaries of conversation with men and women whom he had nothing in common with, other than perceived wealth. By the time he’d learned which boarding schools were well thought of and who had access to the best private islands for vacations, his reputation as someone who chose to glower rather than speak had been sealed.

Between that, the magic that protected his face, and the real Damian Blackwood’s actual past—coming over from a different Realm entirely— there was no way for Zach to bridge the gap between who he pretended to be and the humans he was surrounded by daily. Nor did he truly want to—although sometimes that didn’t stop them from trying to storm him.

“I would’ve thought this dog-and-pony show was beneath you, Damian!” boomed a voice from not far away. If the birds inside the diorama nearest him had been alive, they would’ve startled at the sound.

“Lionel,” Zach said before he turned, acknowledging the other man’s presence. Lionel Carter was an oil baron in a time that did not need anymore. Zach knew that the once-wealthy man was now overextended. Policies had shifted to favor renewables over petroleum, and he’d been too stubborn to keep up with the times. “And I would’ve thought it’d be too expensive for you to attend?” Zach said with cool disinterest, not afraid in the least of being rude.

“I’ve always supported the natural sciences.” Lionel gave him a tight smile. “And while you and I probably belong in the fossil hall—have I introduced you to my niece?” He gestured to his right and a young girl flew to his side: early twenties, petite, brunette, with violet eyes. “This is Rosalie.”