Once she is out of Vampire-hearing earshot, CK asks, “What else?”
“A lot. Everything,” I say, taking a deep breath. “Along with the archives, I got the library index and the history of The Council and its members. All of its members,” I say pointedly.
“Ahmed,” CK breathes.
I nod excitedly and exclaim, “It is him standing next to Corinne in my vision! I bloody knew it!”
CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE
A fter that revelation, we don’t really have much more to go on, so we decide to go back inside and kill a couple of hours before the ballet.
CK is pensive and I know his genius brain is trying to figure out how, where, and why Ahmed is in my vision.
“Dance with me,” I say, pulling his attention back to me.
“Of course.” He takes my hand and leads me out to where a few couples are dancing. He twirls me into his arms and pulls me close.
“Can you tell if he’s alive or is in fact just a vision himself?” he whispers.
“I don’t know. If I’d have a guess, I’d say alive and kicking though,” I reply.
He looks intently at me. “Interesting,” he muses.
“By the way,” he says suddenly, “you do know that you will have to be here some of the time.”
“Yes. I’m aware of that. Thank you.”
“Good. I propose that when you come, say two days a week, you come alone,” he says, staring into my wide eyes. “I need you to myself, my sweet,” he whispers then. “How did we let ourselves fall into this pattern of only seeing each other now and again?”
“I don’t know. Life just happens. I need you to myself as well, but how do I even go about convincing my charges to let me go for two whole days every week?” I ask him in earnest.
“Oh, Aefre, you could convince them even if you weren’t their sire. I want to work with you during the day, but at night…” he stops leaving me to imagine.
A risky business, I think, as I feel a heat flare up inside me as my imagination runs in a very erotic direction.
“I’ll talk to them. But I’m not promising anything,” I warn, trying to calm my racing heart.
“Oh, you will promise me, Aefre or there will be consequences,” he says almost menacingly. I stare quizzically at him. Before I can ask what he means, he changes the subject again. Christ, his thoughts move so quickly, I have to really concentrate sometimes to keep up.
“I have a gift for you, in your office. Something for tonight. Come,” he says and leads me off the dance floor and to the elevators.
“Wait. Let me find the boys,” I protest.
“Let me show you first. I’ll come back down and find them while you change,” he says.
Change?
He opens the door to my office, which I still can’t get used to saying, and leads me inside.
Hung up on the coat stand is a beautiful black dress. It has a strapless bodice of taffeta covered satin, shot through with tiny Swarovski crystals. The full skirt, falling in soft taffeta folds to the floor, is covered in glistening black feathers.
I inhale sharply. “Odile. The Black Swan. Oh, Constantine. It’s perfect. Absolutely perfect.” I turn to hug him emotionally, tears pricking my eyes. “Thank you.”
“You are welcome, my love,” he smiles, his heart-stopping, made-just-for-me smile. “I will leave you to change while I go and find your boys.”
He leaves me alone then and I slip out of the blue satin dress and place it carefully over the back of a chair. Taking the black dress off the hanger, I unzip the back and step into it carefully. Pulling it up over my breasts, I struggle to reach the zip to do it up.
“Allow me,” says a voice from the doorway.