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The waiter hurries over to our table. “Is she all right?”
Lance fumbles in his pocket and pulls out a fifty. “For you. Put the champagne on my tab.”
The waiter nods that he will and stands aside for us to pass.
The pounding in my head and chest reach a crescendo. The instinct to attack is so strong, I’m not sure I can control it. The problem is, I don’t know what to attack. As we go, my eyes roam the room, lighting on each face, trying to identify the threat. My gaze is met with startled, fearful, questioning expressions. I must be changing into the vampire and I have no control. I’m exposing myself to a roomful of humans and I have no control.
We’re almost at the door. I duck my head, turn into Lance’s shoulder, hiding the animal, swallowing back the panic. His arms tighten around me. “Hold on, A
He understands.
The door opens in front of us.
A figure in bass relief, a plangent voice.
“Rick. You’re not leaving? The party is just about to start.”
Something pulls tight within me.
I look into the face. Rugged, timeworn. Eyes cold, black, empty. Hair burnished copper, drawn back in a ponytail. Thin lips curve in a smile. No warmth. No humor.
I pull at Lance. “We have to go.”
Lance is staring at me. “A
No. This creature in his finely tailored suit is not anyone’s friend. This creature is not simply a vampire. This creature is evil.
Lance, get away.
But he doesn’t move. I know he’s staring at me. I know he’s confused. I feel it. I don’t take my eyes off the monster.
A
I do know. My fingers flex, curl into fists.
The animal in front of me, this Julian Underwood, draws himself up. He locks his eyes on mine. He’s old. Older than any other vampire I’ve met. Centuries old. He’s in my head, not just reading my fear but tasting it. He’s rolling it around like a kid rolling a lollipop around his mouth. He likes it. He wants more.
It’s grown quiet in a bubble around us. Humans come and go, passing us like a wake around a ship, not noticing the drama playing out in front of them. They laugh and chatter among themselves. There are five male vampires accompanying Julian, Stephen among them. They alone tense as they watch us. Their eyes are on their sire. They each have a female escort. Human. Young, beautiful. The women continue to talk among themselves, oblivious. They prattle on about hair and makeup and the beautiful gowns and jewels given them by their vampire escorts.
They are here for one purpose, and they are excited, eager. They are impatient for the pleasure that comes with being a blood host.
Only Underwood is alone.
Lance takes my arm. Gives it a gentle shake. “A
Underwood stops him, removing Lance’s fingers and thrusting his hand away. You’ve done well, tonight, Broderick. You’ve brought me quite a gift.
Lance jolts upright. Gift?
Underwood is watching me. He feels my anger escalate. Smiles.
I look at Lance, raise my hand. “Don’t worry. You and I will be leaving together.”
Underwood’s rage takes control. Tell her, Broderick.
But Lance is shaking his head. No. I didn’t mean—
Underwood crooks a finger, sending a spear of white-hot pain at Lance. We all feel it, all of us under the influence of his mind. Lance cries out. The others stagger back.
I alone, remain still. The pain is intense, concentrated, a laser knife slicing at the core of my body. I want to fight it but something says no. Something tells me to focus on the pain, draw it in, redirect it.
Send it back.
Underwood closes his eyes. Only a tiny movement in his shoulders, an involuntary gasp, tells me it worked. Instead of debilitating him, though, the way it did Lance, the way it did the others, he welcomes it, absorbs it, lets it permeate his body and mind. After a moment, he licks his lips and smiles down at me.
You have a few tricks of your own, don’t you?
He snaps his fingers. Breaks the spell. Turns to Stephen and the others. Go inside. The private dining room is reserved for us. Tell Brian we’re ready.
As one, the five vampires and their hosts pick up the thread of their conversation as if nothing happened, move through the door, disappear into the interior of the restaurant. They show no reaction to the numbing pain of a moment before. Even Lance stands quietly beside me, his mind reflecting only concern for me. The events of the last five minutes lost.
I want to shake him. Scream. Snap him out of the fugue state he’s lost in.
Underwood speaks to me. And what about you, A
That he knows my name does not surprise me. He knew it before Stephen, before Lance. This creature in his Dolce & Gabbana suit and Ferragamo shoes made himself comfortable in my head. How can you ask? You already know my answer.
He shakes his head, mouth turned down in a frown of disappointment. I was hoping for a more adventurous spirit. I’m sorry you feel so threatened.
Threatened? I want to sink my teeth into his neck, shake him like a wolf with a rattler. Only Lance’s presence keeps me from attacking. I don’t know what hold he has on Lance, what harm he’s capable of inflicting. Best to get away.
He signals to the doorman. “Would you be kind enough to call Ms. Strong a cab?”
I wave the doorman off. “That won’t be necessary. Lance brought me, he’ll take me home.”
Again, a shake of the head. “I’m afraid not. Broderick and I have a lot of catching up to do. If you insist on leaving, it will be alone.”
I look up at Lance. He has shut me out of his head.
My stomach contracts at the thought that he would want to stay. When he meets my gaze his expression is resigned and unafraid. What is wrong with him? He can’t see this man is evil?
Lance takes my shoulders in his hands. “I won’t be long.”
No. Lance, he can’t force you to stay. If it’s a spell—
He kisses me, softly, on the lips. Spell? Why would you think that? Julian is not forcing me. I want to stay.
He drops his hands.
Underwood is watching me. Once again, he signals the doorman, who picks up a telephone at the valet desk.
Lance leaves me with a small wave. Underwood and I stare at each other.
“Don’t fight it, A
My skin burns where his finger touched my skin. I jerk back, instantly angry with myself for the reaction. It’s just what Underwood expected, his eyes narrowing with satisfaction.
“You fuck.”
But Underwood has already turned away from me. I stare at his back.
I don’t know what to do. I know I can’t stay. When I looked into Underwood’s eyes, I was looking into an abyss—empty, threatening, full of horror. I’m afraid if I stay, I’ll be drawn into that pit. Even the depth of my disgust isn’t enough to protect myself from this kind of evil. How could I imagine I’d be able to protect Lance?
I’ll have to trust Lance’s instincts. Underwood is his sire. It’s too late now to ask the questions I should have asked him earlier. The questions I’ll ask him the minute he gets home.
Underwood is more than an old-soul vampire. He possesses more than vampiric powers. He uses sorcery.
What sort of creature does that? What sort of demon?
CHAPTER 11
I’m alone in the house.
Restless.
Afraid.
Not for myself. For Lance.
I never should have left him. I let that bastard Underwood get to me. Now he’s out there somewhere with Lance, and I’m here making myself crazy with worry. The worst thing? I don’t know why. It’s not as if Lance isn’t capable of taking care of himself.