Free Diablo Blanco Club: Rite of First Claim by Qwillia Rain Page B

face. The complete stillness of his body disturbed her. The dark circles beneath his eyes and the exhaustion lining his face identified the reason Mike slept so soundly.
    “All the better for me,” Lyssa muttered, ignoring the concern that lingered in her mind. She dug the key to the room from the borrowed trousers’ pocket and slipped toward the exit. On her way, Lyssa bundled up what she could quickly find—her shoes, wig, and ruined dressed—and held them in her arms while she eased through the door. Over the railing surrounding the second floor balcony, she was able to peek down into the lounge area.
    It was empty, though the sounds of voices and a vacuum cleaner filtered out of the dining room. Through the French doors leading onto the outside balcony, the sky remained dark, the only light cast by the dimmed wall sconces lining the hall. Lyssa locked the door behind her and carefully made her way downstairs. There was no guarantee Mike would remain asleep for long, and she wanted to be safely away before he discovered her absence.
    The grandfather clock began to chime when Lyssa reached the double doors leading into the foyer. Five sonorous notes sounded. She must have slept, if just for a few hours. Her body ached from Mike’s prolonged attentions.
    “Shall I get your car?”
    Lyssa jumped at the quiet voice behind her. “Ah, yes, please. My car.” In the shadowed confines of the foyer, she fumbled with the bundle in her arms for the ticket she’d received the night before.
    After handing it over, she followed the man onto the flagstone porch and stifled a gasp at the chill against her bare feet. Lyssa glanced back at the entrance, half-afraid she’d spot Mike, nude and furious, bounding after her. Her attention drifted to the stone border framing the curved, castle gate-styled doorway. Her heartbeat increased as her gaze tracked the design carved into the slab of stone over the lintel. A dragon. A crouching beast, eyes watchful, tail curled around its folded haunches while the vine of a climbing rose tethered the creature in place.
    Displayed at each end of the granite design was a rose in full bloom. At the center of the open petals, the claws of a dragon held a faceted stone in place. The intertwined initials of the Club rested in the middle of each gem. She knew the dragon and rose were a symbol of the Halsey family and had been since the fourteenth century. She could easily imagine the beast’s eyes followed her as she moved away from the doorway as if monitoring her behavior in order to report to Mike later.
    A shadow detached itself from the darkness beside one of the thick Ionic columns that supported the second-floor balcony and roof above.
    “Running again, Lyssa?”
    Lyssa’s body tensed, ready to do just that—run. The beat of her heart slowed when the man stepped into the porch light and she recognized his face. “Not running, David. Just going home.”
    “Without your master’s permission?” David leaned against the column and eyed her attire but didn’t comment.
    “He’s not my master.” Lyssa shifted her feet, trying to rid them of the chill from the stone, but she met David’s questioning gaze directly.
    Juggling the items in her arms, Lyssa got hold of her shoes. Her gaze strayed to the door again. The litany of prayers that Mike remain asleep and unaware of her departure ran in a steady stream inside her head. They stuttered to a halt when David moved closer, plucked her shoes from her grasp, and dropped to one knee. Heat emanated from his hands when they brushed her ankle as he rolled up a pant cuff. She was surprised further by the gentle way he lifted her foot and wiped the dirt from the bottom before he slid a shoe into place. He repeated the process with her other foot before dusting off his hand on his pants, and then braced his forearm on his thigh.
    David looked up at her, his gaze sharp, piercing. “So you’re going to play this like you did four years ago?”
    Lyssa