Garrett lowered her gaze from the beaten-copper diameter of a rising moon to regard the soft-eyed wampyr beside her. The dark fabric of his sleeve lay smooth under her fingertips. A breeze still tasting of winter ruffled the forensic sorcerer’s carefully arranged hair and shifted the jewels in her earlobes. “Thank you for coming, Sebastien.”
“On the contrary, Abby Irene,” the Great Detective murmured through lips that barely moved. “What man could refuse your company of an evening?” A lifted eyebrow made the double entendre express. The moonlight lay like a rush of blood across his cheeks, making Don Sebastien de Ulloa look almost alive. “Was this the face that launched a thousand ships/ And burnt the topless towers of Ilium?”
“Perhaps in my youth.”
“To a connoisseur, value increases with time.”
She permitted herself an unladylike snort.
Rated R for sex and violence.