Chapter 0007

The room was loud in a subdued way. There was a constant buzz of chatter, but no one single voice stood out from the rest. I looked around, trying to look meek rather than nervous as all Hell. My hands were shaking, so they were currently clasped together behind my back to hide that from view. Every time a person walked past us, my eyes shot to them as I immediately reached for my magic, just to find it missing still. I tried, and failed, to erase the images of the runes that covered my cuffs from my memory.

"Ah, hello Mr. Skinner, Estrada and..." My father trailed off, shaking hands with the two men whose names he knew before holding his hand out to the third and youngest man in the group.

"Whittaker," the younger man said, looking pointedly at my father's outstretched hand before he folded his arms over his chest in a clear dismissal. A dangerous glint flickered through my father's eyes for a quick moment before he dropped his hand, all pleasantness again. I wasn't sure if Mr. Whittaker had seen the threat there, I only had because I'd lived with that anger for the last nineteen years of my life. Whether the man had or not, he didn't show any inclination to bring attention to it or the awkwardness created when he'd refused to shake my father's hand. 

"Sorry about the lad," the man called Skinner said, "He's not used to high society. Raised on the outskirts, I'm afraid."

I could've sworn I saw Whittaker roll his eyes, but he kept that pleasant smile on his face. 

"No problem, no problem at all," my father said cheerfully, "We've all been there," he said with a wave towards the younger man. 

Whittaker was definitely young. I'd peg him close to my age, in fact. I wondered briefly who he was as I took the chance to size him up. Without my magic, I couldn't read his aura, so I just took in what information my eyes could offer. He was striking, looked like he had just walked right out of magazine. His hair was shorter and a super light blonde.  Really, it was more of a platinum color, but it didn't look goofy on him like it did on so many other people. Like it was natural. 

His facial hair was almost like stubble, but well-kept enough that I could tell it was intentional. I paused at his eyes though. The most gorgeous shade of silver I had ever seen before. I didn't realize I had been staring until a breeze from one of the open windows behind blew past me, rustling my hair as it went and his eyes shot to my face. I froze then, unable to look away. His head turned in my direction as if it was slow on the uptake, but his eyes remained on my face rather than traveling down my body like every other male we had crossed paths with tonight. Until they quickly flicked down to my wrists, saw the restraints there then back up to my eyes. His face an expressionless mask.

Booming laughter pulled me from Whittaker's gaze and I looked back over at my father and the two older men. It was Estrada who was laughing and I sucked in a breath when I saw his fangs. A vampire. So these men were vampires, then?

Estrada was definitely older, but how old, I wouldn't ever be able to tell just by looking at him since vampires didn't age. He didn't look like he was born in Phoenix Arizona, either. I looked back over at Whittaker, his eyes were still on me and I swallowed hard. What is he looking at? I thought worriedly, hoping my father wouldn't notice the attention this man was giving me. 

I shot my father another quick look before going back to searching the crowd for Lathan. Eyes scanning the crowd, taking in every face, every look. All the while, fighting back the urge to see if Whittaker was still watching me or not. 

"Westin, don't you know who this man is?" Skinner asked around Estrada's laughter. Forcing myself not to look at the silver-eyed man, I tucked his name away in my memory bank.

"He's the one people call the Wizard of Az," he said, now joining in with Estrada's laughter. 

"A stupid nickname, for sure," my father said with humor.

Stupid indeed.

"I think it's pretty clever," Skinner argued happily.

"Are you the one who started it then?" My father asked with a playful glare. My mouth almost dropped open. I had never once, not in the nineteen years of my life, ever seen my father smile, let alone banter with anyone. He was all business, all the time. Though, I supposed this was all an act, but still. I wasn't sure if this was scarier than when he was in a rage or not. At least I knew what to expect then. This? This was new territory.

I fought the urge to turn and check on Aiden, since father had given explicit instructions not to so we would avoid bringing attention to him. The wind from the open window still played across the back of my neck, just a flirtatious little breeze that barely moved my hair, but was enough to offset the heat of Arizona and the crowd around us.

Suddenly, there was a commotion a small ways down and our whole party turned to look. Everyone except Whittaker, who I could see out of the corner of my eye was still staring at me. 

I chanced one more quick look at him, my heart jumping in my chest until my father stood, moving in front of me. I followed his gaze as Lathan Nordberg stormed our way, sniffing the air wildly. People parted for him, letting him pass as if he were on fire and they were scared of getting burned. 

He stopped in front of us, his nostrils flaring madly. His eyes fell on me, those dark green irises seemed to bore into mine. He stared at me for several heartbeats before he growled out one single word that had my mouth going completely dry.

"Mine."