Just as Naomi was walking away from her pictures, an older couple strolled up, asking about the photos. For the next half hour she talked to the French couple about her work.
When she next looked up, a businessman from Prague and a woman of Spanish nobility were on either side of her. Her thoughts of Javan, the murder of her sister, and her revenge were forgotten as she spoke about the only thing she loved—photography.
~
Javan couldn’t take his eyes off Naomi Parker. The black cocktail dress was understated. It would be called plain on anyone else, but on her, its simple grace only added more mystery.
His gaze went to her hair. It was like spun gold. He’d had a hard time not touching it when he was standing near her. Her artic blue eyes had been direct and searching. He’d become lost in her gaze, drowning in pools of blue.
It had seemed to take him forever to get her to look at him, but once she had, he’d been utterly captivated. She was so stunningly beautiful that his breath had been sucked from his chest.
She had the face of an angel, it was so perfectly formed. For a moment, he wondered if she was a dream. It seemed impossible for someone like her to exist.
Yet there she was. Sharp cheekbones softened by wide, full lips and a pert nose. Brows of a darker blond arched softly over large eyes.
His gaze lowered down her slim neck to her body. There was a hint of gold tinting her skin, speaking of hours in the sun. He spotted definition in her arm muscles, telling him she worked out.
With his blood pounding in his ears, he took in her breasts, the indent of her waist, and then legs that went on forever.
“What do you think?” Elijah asked from beside him.
Javan finished off his champagne. “When did you know she was Nephilim?”
“As soon as I met her.”
“And you didn’t think to tell me?”
Elijah chuckled and turned to face him. “I’m your Watchman, Javan. If a Nephilim wants to pay you a visit, who am I to stand in the way?”
“You know I can only have one night with her. What does that do for either of us?” Damn Elijah for interfering. Javan would’ve been happy never seeing the amazing beauty of Naomi.
“Are you afraid of finding a mate?”
“What I fear is being deceived. You saw what that did to my uncle.” Javan put the empty champagne glass down on the tray of a passing waiter and grabbed another.
Elijah held his champagne without taking a drink. “You need an heir.”
“What do you know about her?” Javan asked, hoping to turn the topic off the need for him to beget an heir.
“The surname threw me. I didn’t recognize it, although she’s from Australia, from her birth records.”
Javan watched Naomi talk to a good-looking man from Switzerland. He didn’t like the spurt of envy that rose at her smiling so easily. She hadn’t been quite so welcoming with him.
“I know you, Elijah. You’re a damned bloodhound. You know all about her, and for some reason you’ve waited until now to tell me.”
Elijah chuckled, though his humor died quickly. “Parker is not her true surname. It’s Williams.”
“That sounds familiar,” Javan said as he swiveled his head toward Elijah.
“It should. Naomi’s sister was Rebecca Williams.”
Javan instantly remembered Rebecca and her artistry with clay. “Rebecca was an amazing talent. I hate that we lost her.”
“Yes.”
Javan’s gaze slid back to Naomi. “Tell me the pretty photographer didn’t change her name in order to get close to me because she suspects I killed her sister.”
“That’s exactly my thought,” Elijah said with a loud sigh.
“I suppose the police investigation that cleared me means nothing?”
Elijah lifted one shoulder and watched Naomi. “It appears not.”
“Well, if Naomi wants to get close, let’s give her what she wants.”
“Is that wise?”
Javan knew it probably wasn’t, but he had to settle this with Naomi soon because his entire family was in danger with the ongoing problems with the Sovereign. “Let’s see what move she makes next.”
“This should be fun,” Elijah mumbled sarcastically beneath his breath.
Javan smiled at his Watchman. Elijah had been with him for centuries. There was no one he trusted more than Elijah with his life or his family.
How Javan longed for the days when the Succubi were still alive. It wasn’t that he had a grudge against the Nephilim, even if others blamed them for the annihilation of the Succubi.
Javan mingled around the gallery, stopping to talk to each artist along the way. But his attention shifted back to Naomi again and again.
He’d had a mind to seduce her right up until he learned why she was there. Javan didn’t blame her for wanting to know the truth. There were many truths he searched for as well. If he couldn’t take her to his bed, he would help her solve her sister’s case.
~
Naomi’s feet hurt. She could no longer feel her toes, and though she desperately longed to remove her shoes she couldn’t for fear her swollen feet wouldn’t fit back in them.