Waiting in the Wings

Chapter Nine

Kiki’s hands shook as she tried to apply the eyeliner. They were doing the diamonds show again. But the last thing she wanted to do was take the stage. In fact, the concept made her ill. Agitation skated over her skin, and her gums hurt. Minion peered up at her, uncharacteristically silent. Flicking a look down at the imp, Kiki tried to smile, but her lips trembled.

“You’re going to leave.” Minion stated, her flat voice filled with sad desolation.

“Minion…” She sighed.

“Nope. Just like Pandora and Roseâtre, you’re going to choose the guy and go. And I can’t blame you. Richard’s hawt—even if he is kind of cold.”

“He’s not cold.” Kiki frowned. “He’s old. Determined. Steadfast. I—”

“Do you remember him?” The imp rose from her crouch and picked her way across the cosmetics table. She pawed through the eyeliners and found one with a better tip.

Trading the bad eyeliner for the fresher one, Kiki chewed her lip. “Some, little pieces, but I know I know him—or knew him.”

“Do you love him?” Minion picked through the powders, choosing the one with the most glitter.

“Yes.” No hesitation or doubt marred the answer. She quivered thinking about him and, for the first time in fifty years, she didn’t want to bother with a show, much less star in one.

Minion nodded glumly and started patting Kiki’s cheek with the powder, moving in slow circles the way she’d taught her. Kiki stood still for the attention.

“Who will you give the shoes to?” The imp nodded to the shimmering pair of crystal and glitter pumps. The shoes had passed from Pandora to Roseâtre and finally to Kiki. Regret tugged inside her tummy. The girls joked they were magic—gifting them lead dancer to lead dancer—and maybe they were. Kiki had inherited them, and Heidi’d given her the lead. Taking them with her would be wrong and giving up the shoes really meant she planned to go—but she wanted to leave didn’t she?

“I don’t know. I’m sure I’ll think of someone.” It wasn’t a longing to leave the theatre so much as just to be with Richard. He didn’t live in Las Vegas or at the Arcana, so that meant going to where he did live. The trembling in her soul ceased. It had made leaving the island paradise bearable and probably why she hadn’t minded leaving London or any of the other places they’d lived. She could love a place—like this theatre—she could adore spending time there, but without Richard, it was just a place.

An empty place.

“Ladies! We need to get this show going! Move it!” Heidi’s voice boomed through the dressing room, and Kiki rose from the chair and checked her makeup. It wasn’t perfect, but the glitter combined with the flush of her cheeks gave her an oddly ethereal look—fire and ice in one. She liked it.

Setting the cosmetics aside, she scooped Minion up and gave her a hug. “No matter where I go, we’re still buds, and if you want to visit me in New York, you can totally do it. Okay?”

The imp’s wrinkled face bloomed into a smile. “Really?”

“Absolutely. We can shop. Go see shows. Anything you want.” Richard had his friends. She wouldn’t abandon hers.

“Ooh! We could visit Pandora!” Minion bounced and hugged her tight.

“Yes, we could.”

The imp squealed, and Kiki shared an indulgent grin with Peppermint as she reached around to scratch Minion’s ears. The imp almost purred and then disappeared in a poof of smoke and light sulfur.

“Show time!” The friendly nudge encouraged her to get moving. She grabbed her black dress and the heels—but she hesitated. “Hey, Peppermint?”

“Yeah?” The petite dancer glanced at her while touching up her hair with some glitter spritz.

“Catch.” She tossed her one shoe and the other. “All yours.”

“Thank you!” Peppermint stared at the beautifully bedazzled shoes. They’d all envied Pandora’s pair, even if no one knew where they came from. Kiki thought she would experience sadness at saying goodbye to them. The dress slipped over her, and she hummed as she trailed after the others racing up the stairs to the stage. The concrete was cold against her bare feet, but she didn’t mind. Glancing back at the empty dressing room, she smiled.

She wouldn’t forget a moment she spent with her girls—never them. But her playful sojourn was over, and it was time to get back to real life. Real.

Fear punched her in the stomach. What if she couldn’t leave? She assumed a lot, but she was still cursed, still bound. And she still didn’t know who held the lease. Sucking in a breath, she forced her legs to keep moving. They were on stage in less than two minutes. Picking up her skirt, she dashed up the stairs and slid to a stop at the edge of the darkened stage.

The spotlight came up and struck her, dazzling her eyes and sending out a kaleidoscope of rainbows. The music cued and she lifted an arm, striding forward the eight-count from the wings to center stage. Mock glaring at the audience, she planned to give them the show of their life. The next bars brought the other dancers prowling onto stage.

The music repeated, but instead of letting her frenetic energy go, her soul froze. She missed her mark.

The other dancers hesitated. The audience stirred. The refrain echoed through the theatre.

Still, she didn’t move.

“Kiki.” Britta hissed from her left.

But she couldn’t move.

Memories poured in, storming through her like a flash flood.

Kristina arrived at McCarran Airport and strode through row upon tacky row of slot machines and hard, ugly plastic chairs. She took a commercial flight, paying for her whim with a cabin full of sweaty bodies, too much perfume and screaming children. Of all of them, the screaming children bothered her least. They at least didn’t choose to be on that flight. She couldn’t say the same for her—or the others.

A limousine waited in the slip in front of the airport doors. Black-suited guards stood just inside the airport doors and another at the door to the vehicle. The sun peeked across the desert, and she scooted quickly across the sidewalk and into the open door.

“Hello, beautiful.” Andrew leaned forward to catch her hand and press a cool kiss to her knuckles.

She let him give her the perfunctory greeting, but when he added a caress of his thumb to her pulse point, she pulled away. “Thank you for overlooking the haste of my request, Your Highness. You honor me with the personal greeting.” His personal touch surprised her, but in retrospect—it shouldn’t. She knew Andrew and Richard had had their differences through the years. Her suspicious last-minute request and arrival sans her mate without observing any of the proper protocols undoubtedly rang more than a few bells.

“My lady, you are always welcome in my city, you must know that. I have arranged for a private suite at my villa—”

Oh hell no. Kristina shook her head gently. “Andrew, you honor me with the kindness in your gesture, but I just want to go spend some time at the Arcana Royale. I’ve heard such fascinating stories about the casino and the clientele—and the shows!” She played off her distrust of his offer with her very real interest in the world famous casino.

Richard had refused her entreaties nearly two decades before to visit and every year since. He didn’t trust anything about the operation and the location—the location more than the casino, I imagine. His problems with Andrew go all the way back to London.

The younger Lord Wolcott had never gotten over his uncle’s selection of Richard as the new Prince of London—he always believed it should have passed to him. Leaning back in the seat, she crossed one leg over the other and feigned curiosity at the passing landscape. The desert held a certain dangerous allure. But the lack of real cover and the all too threatening sunshine danced far too close to the edge for her tastes.

“Very well. I’ve some contacts there, let’s get you set up in style.” He tapped the glass separating them from the driver. “Arcana Royale, Jean”

“Yes, m’lord.”

Andrew studied her from across the car. The extra-wide compartment of his expensive limousine promised every luxury, but she was of half a mind to ask him to turn back to the airport. No sooner did the thought take purchase than she dismissed it immediately. Richard would expect her back, and it wouldn’t matter how he angered or disappointed her, he would expect her return.

And why shouldn’t he? I always come back. I always forgive him. Well, dammit, this time he can earn his forgiveness. He can come and find me. Renewed anger blossomed in her chest, and she gave Andrew her attention once more. “So, how have you been?”

“Well enough. The local influx from back East has my city booming.” Now that he brought it up, she studied the hustle of construction. “This strip will be the most lucrative in the country. A fortune will flow into the city, and I will receive one percent from every transaction.”

“One percent?” Her eyebrows drew together in a frown. “That doesn’t seem like a large amount.”

“Not individually, no. But when you are discussing millions—yes, one percent will add up quite nicely.” He opened a bottle of Pinot Noir and poured two glasses. Hints of copper and a touch of gold filled the air. “Imagine, if you will, that one percent of every transaction from land sales to construction to gambling and taxes—one percent of every single dollar spent in this city will flow into my coffers.”

Basic math wasn’t sexy, no matter how his voice caressed the words. He handed her a glass and she swirled the wine. “For how long?”

“Forever.” Andrew smiled and touched his glass to hers with a clink. “So many laughed when I took this city—a former military base and a collection of houses in the middle of nowhere. But where others saw only emptiness, I saw potential.” He watched her expectantly, so she smiled and touched the glass to her lips.

The wine tickled her throat, the blood almost too fresh as though decanted that day. “Well, then allow me to offer my congratulations for your brilliant planning.” And could we possibly change the subject from money and your plans? The limousine swung into a dark garage and slid to a stop. Outside, a uniformed valet reached for the backdoor and opened it with a bow. The man’s uniform shone, brushed and cleaned to a fare-thee-well.

Grasping the excuse, she set her wine glass down and slid over to accept the valet’s hand. The desert heat wrapped its suffocating grip around her. For a moment, she was transported to Egypt and the long moonlit camel rides she’d taken with Richard—a lifetime ago. Her mouth tightened. She’d wanted to see the pyramids, and he’d indulged her. One of the last such indulgences before politics consumed so many years of their lives.

Politics and ruling—she married a noble, had been turned by a noble, a man who took on the burdens of others. She thought it heroically romantic when they first met. But after four hundred years of coming in second to his ambition and the duties associated with those ambitions—

“Welcome to the Arcana Royale, madam.” The valet bowed to her and she spared him a half-smile. Andrew exited close behind her and his hand came to rest against her waist. She couldn’t shake him off without giving possible offense, so she endured the intimate contact and entered the Arcana Royale proper.

The lobby took her breath away. The warm sandstone marble surrounded sweeping pale columns, fountains and lush foliage. A true oasis of splendor, but the crown jewel stood overlooking the whole of the lobby—a sphinx.

“The rumors are true…” She breathed out the words and hurried forward, head tilted back so she could gaze upon the enormity of it all.

“Yes, they did import a sphinx. It took enormous magic and coaxing.” Andrew shadowed her steps, his presence a buzzing irritation against the private satisfaction of the moment. “I helped.”

Helped what? Talk the workers to death? Her skepticism must have showed on her face because he gave her a wry smile.

“I smoothed the memories of those who observed too much.”

“You compelled humans?” Her mouth fell open. It happened, they all did it, but few admitted it out loud—not after several Princes from around the world dictated that it may only be done in the most desperate of circumstances.

Richard had spearheaded the unpopular effort as early as the mid-1800s, when too many vampires took advantage of the European and American wars to feed with impunity. The savagery on the battlefield fed their natural instincts as predators—unfortunately—it also led to some inaccurate compulsions and left more than a few victims with permanent brain damage.

Noticeable brain damage. They used a variety of excuses to explain it, but the persistence of it—vampires couldn’t afford the war that outing could bring them. So the various princes met and decided that the ability to compel could no longer be used without just cause.

“Only as necessary, dear lady. Only as necessary.” Andrew stroked her arm. She slipped away from the overly familiar touch.

“Maybe we should avoid any further confidences. I’m not comfortable being put between you and Richard.” The decision to let Richard stew over her disappearance sat uneasily in her belly. She needed to check into a room and call him. Well, maybe not call him. She fought the urge to grumble and smiled at Andrew instead.

“Lady Kristina.” The Prince of Las Vegas captured her hand and kissed it lightly. “I swear to you that you are not between us, nor will I ask you to act against your conscience. Feel free to tell Richard anything you like.”

Not that she needed his permission, but…“Thank you. I appreciate that and everything you’ve done to make me welcome in Las Vegas. For now, I’m just going to arrange a room.”

“Allow me.” He smiled and strode away from her before she could protest. Kristina sighed, gaze wandering back to the sphinx. She walked toward the sphinx. Perhaps she could just blend into the crowd, and Andrew would forget her she was there.

At sunset, she’d sat at a table across from the Prince of Las Vegas and a dozen of his friends. At least she hoped they were friends. The bejeweled crowd all seemed to be vampires, born if she were to guess. They talked too loud, drank excessively and eagerly consumed large quantities of blood—most of it free-flowing from the offered veins of the wait staff and other questionable parties.

“So you traveled here from New York, Kiki?” The platinum blonde leaned toward her. Copper and alcohol mixed on her breath and threatened to burn Kristina’s eyebrows off. She’d adopted the nickname at Andrew’s urging. While he took no offense at her presence in Las Vegas, others might read too much into it.

Better to not invite trouble or let Richard know before she was ready. Swirling the wine in her glass, she gave a little shrug. “Arrived this morning. I haven’t seen much of the city yet.”

“Nothing better to see than this place.” The blonde put her hand on Kristina’s arm and gave it a hard squeeze. Kiki didn’t flinch despite the force. She knew a test when she felt one. The woman was strong.

But born or not, Kristina was definitely older. “Really? And why do you say that?” She propped her chin in her hand focusing all of her attention on the female. The woman withdrew her hand—smart.

She gave a little titter and shrugged. “The other casinos are too small. They are mostly run by humans—a butchering lot of humans, though. If you’re really hungry and don’t mind bending the rules—” Stealing a look at Andrew, she leaned closer and her voice dropped to a near murmur. “—you can feed on the most delicious vices. These men kill each other for sport—they won’t miss a few here or there.”

“Lora.” Andrew’s voice snapped like a whip across the conversation, and the blonde turned a faint shade of pink.

It took every ounce of Kristina’s will to just laugh and shake her head. “I can imagine.” She tossed back the wine and met Andrew’s steady gaze with a warm smile. Richard would be so furious when he found out. She should have called him.

As soon as the dinner ended, she would do exactly that.

She just had to make it through the meal.

Andrew watched her take every dainty bite, swallow every sip and when the dinner carried on to drinks and gaming—she tried to slip away.

“Kristina,” he was right at her elbow and urging her toward a quiet gallery off the main concourse.

“Andrew, it has been a wonderful party, but I just want to go up to my room and draw a long bath and just…be alone.” She hated to be alone. She preferred to be with Richard. If she could just get away from these guys, she could slip back to the airport and go home.

“I understand. I really do…but Kristina, you’re not happy. You’ve been wearing your sadness since you walked off the plane and I promise—I will let you have all the time you need, but I want to show you something first.” He smiled, all goodwill and charm.

Run.

Her instincts screamed, but she didn’t dare show him fear or flinch in the face of his charm. No, she would trot along with him dutifully and admire whatever flirtatious invitation he wanted to share with her and then retreat to her room.

Never anger the prince of a city. They are often slow to forgive and they never forget. Richard repeated that phrase often—typically before he assigned a punishment to the fool who angered him. While Andrew was hardly as fearsome as Richard, she clung to the advice.

“Of course.” She took the arm he so graciously offered. He waved off the sycophants, and she strolled with him into what looked like an art exhibit. The style of paintings tickled her memory. “These look familiar.”

“I thought they might. We met the artist a few decades ago. He visited the court of King George in London and presented several pieces for the Queen Mary to choose from.”

“Really? Gedarme?” The French sculptor, painter, and inventor harbored the talent of Da Vinci in his blood—an illegitimate child or so he claimed at one time. “I thought he was human.”

“He was.” Andrew nodded slowly. “But I made him an offer. Talent such as this should not be allowed to pass away.”

He continued talking, but Kristina failed to hear the next words. Her attention focused on the artwork. Where it once questioned the nature of man in exotic lines and contrasting colors, Gendarme’s work seemed to be a study of opposing lines and geometric shapes. The bold color bled away, leaving only the stark contrasts of black on white.

“Kristina?”

“Yes?” She gave Andrew a vague look over her shoulder and ventured deeper into the gallery. The artwork was so cold, violence suppressed and caged. She vibrated with the hum of seething ferocity beneath the work.

“The crown jewel of the collection is there, in the center.” Andrew’s voice pushed her onward, urging her deeper. She didn’t need the coaxing. She’d loved Gendarme’s work when he painted portraits for the nobles of the royal court. He truly captured the essence of the individuals he painted. She couldn’t fathom what inspired this work. Turning in a slow circle, her breath caught in her throat.

She wanted to understand it.

All of it.

A glimmer of red splashed against the negative relief, and she hurried her pace. She detected no scent of blood, but the crimson color startled her visual senses. Circling around a column etched with obtuse triangles, she exhaled noisily.

How exquisite.

Sitting like a crown jewel was a ruby rose. Cold and hot in equal measures, her palms itched to caress the petals. Would they be hard? Soft? Her hand hovered so close to it. It beckoned her—like the needle on the end of a spinning wheel.

“Why did you bring me here, Andrew?” She clenched her fingers into a fist. Light glimmered on the edges of the crystalline structure. But despite the obvious presence of quartz, she wanted to know if the smoothness replicated the velvet kiss of the blood-red rose or if it was all just an illusion.

“Because you belong in this gallery,” Andrew’s soft whisper teased her ear. He stood right next to her. She hadn’t even noticed him moving. “You’re like that rose, perfectly shaped and honed. A precious jewel—and Richard let you slip through his fingers.”

The words warned her, but he caught her wrist before she could turn, and the pressure forced her hand wide. Unlike his vapid companion, Lora—he was far stronger than she. He pressed up against her.

I can’t move. Every muscle in her body locked. The ruby rose beneath her fingers warmed, but she wasn’t touching it.

Was she?

“He shouldn’t have let you get away, but don’t worry, sweet Kristina—I am sure he will come for you soon enough.” Andrew kissed the side of her neck and her skin crawled. His lips massaged her pulse point, but despite the erotic nature of the caress, it left her cold. She opened her mouth to speak, but no words came out. “I wanted to make you an offer, but I’ve watched you all day—from the moment you arrived. Even furious with him, you will return as soon as you can, and I can’t allow that.”

Can’t? Her mind shrieked. Why the hell couldn’t she move? What did you do to me? He slipped an arm around her middle and stroked her belly through the fabric of the dress.

“I need him to come for you. It’s not personal, I promise.” He whispered again. His teeth sank into her throat and she winced.

Get your teeth off me, you son of a bitch. Richard…

The bite ended as swiftly as it began, and he let her go. She stumbled forward and closed her hand around the ruby. She seized it and swung, intending to strike him—and the world went blank.

She woke in the Midnight Mystery Lounge two days later.

She was Kiki.

The dancers picked up the beat and Britta cut in front of her with Peppermint coming alongside. They took up the lead while Kiki—No, my name is Kristina. Kristina Casere. We met in a dusty little pub in Eastern Europe. He changed my life…he changed me…

Her gaze flattened, dilating, and she caught every scent in the room. Somehow her feet remembered the steps and she pivoted, threading her body through the dancers and taking back her spot. She stalked after Dayna and hissed. Her fangs descended and a titter of excitement went through the audience. Hunger cramped her stomach, but she controlled it. She needed to feed, and soon, but first she had to survive this gauntlet.

A provocatively masculine scent, mysterious and powerful drifted across the stage and she whirled. Her pupils expanded to absorb the light. She looked into the shadows, heard the heartbeats thundering below the music and her gaze locked with Richard’s. Feral glee speared through her. Around and around, the dancers twined, closing in, and she pushed up from the stage, flipping over their heads to land behind them.

She would not be caged.

Shock rippled through the girls and the audience. The heat of Richard’s gaze pinned her. His blood thrummed through her veins, and she could feel the warning.

I have this… Confidence flooded her as she crouched and stared at Cerveau. The scholarly Amazon’s gaze narrowed. Kiki winked and launched herself. They came together in a crash. Of all the dancers on the stage, Cerveau had the strength to take the blow. They twisted, twining—turning their dance into a wild fight that ended with Cerveau’s mock surrender, and if not for Richard’s soothing presence, she might have actually taken the throat offered to her.

Sweat glistened amidst the gems on her body and she let out a hunter’s cry and raced after Britta. Twisting in and around, they repeated the pulse of the hunt from the night before, and when she closed her mouth on her “victim’s” throat, the dancer thrashed—but she kept her fangs in check. The show ended with the audience on its feet, cheering, whistling and applauding. Rising for a final bow, she danced toward the edge of the stage and launched herself off. She was so done with the show. She wanted her man.

They’d been apart for too damn long.

Richard arrived in the theatre after the curtain went up. He stood at the back as Kristina strode forward. He saw the memories rush in to swamp her—she transformed before the whole audience. Her expression grew dark, and all light fled her eyes. Her scent changed, beckoning him closer, and he glided down the steps slowly. He didn’t know what method they used or why they acted at that moment, but the Overseers reversed the spell.

But was she free of the curse?

The blood pounding performance thrummed through him. She prowled with ferocious delight, unabashed in her reawakened state. Riveted to the final lash of the music, he opened his arms when she landed on the floor and raced toward him. He caught her to his chest, rocking back a step at the strength of her embrace.

“Richard.” All the lost years threaded through the syllables of his name. Closing his eyes, he tightened his grip, thankful to just have her back. But she wouldn’t be contained. Pulling away, she stared up at him. “Is it over?”

“Soon.” Rubbing her arms, he tugged her away from the audience of well wishers closing in around them. Anton and David forced the crowd back, but their aroused state threatened violence. Kristina glanced from him to those calling her name. As if sensing the danger, the other dancers descended from the stage and drew the crowd off, the dozen eager dancers more alluring than the reluctant diva.

Stripping off his coat, he wrapped it around her nude form. She glanced down belatedly and laughed. “Okay, so that didn’t change.”

He lifted a brow.

“I’m still not shy.” Her grin grew.

“You never were. You just restrained yourself so I wouldn’t have to rip out the eyes of the men staring at you…”

“I didn’t have sex with Andrew.” The blurted out words steamrolled over his humor, and he exhaled a long breath. “I came here to show you that I could have fun without you—to prove it. It was stupid and impulsive, and I just wanted you to see what you were missing…” The torrent of words tumbled through a rocky channel of aggravation and despair. “But I swear, I never let him lay a finger on me.”

Pressing his mouth to hers was the only way to stop the tide. She welcomed the kiss, matching his intensity until his mind swam from the contact. Their hearts beat in steady tempo together.

The noisy crowd pressed toward them again, and she pulled back, grabbing his hand and ran toward the stage. He followed, easily jumping up the few feet to land on the polished wood. She guided Richard behind the curtains and into the wings, the heavy fabric muting the throng outside.

“I mean it,” she began again as soon as they were alone. “I was going to torment you with him—be petty and stupid—but I didn’t. I just wanted to make you think I had—”

“Kristina.” He gave her the tiniest of shakes and her mouth snapped shut. “I know, darling. I never thought you would have.”

“Oh yes you did.” She snorted, inelegant and amused. “I saw you trash that dresser, my love. I may not have recognized your temper then, but I know you well enough to know you only get destructive when you want to kill someone.”

“No, I have no problems with killing him. But I didn’t believe you would have taken him to your bed—maybe—” His heart sank. No, he would not ask it. What happened in the last few years…

“Not even when I didn’t remember you, Richard. I looked for you everywhere. In every magazine article, every photograph and every face in the crowd. I would sneak out to dance and to play in the casino. I flirted and tormented other men, but not one did I have sex with. Not until I found you again.”

Relief left his muscles weak. He bowed his head to hers. “I do not deserve you.”

“You never have.” She grinned. “But I want no one else. Your loyalty, your devotion to your tasks—the responsibility you carry so close to your heart—I love you all the more for them.”

“Never again.” He shook his head. “You will never feel like I place others above you, I swear it.”

“Shh.” She caressed his cheek. “No foolish promises. I knew what you were—who you were—when I agreed to marry you. I have never wanted you to change, but sometimes…”

“…you were lonely, and I failed to see it.” He gathered her hands in his and kissed them. “You will never feel that loneliness again.”

“Damn right I won’t.” Her gaze sparked with renewed humor. “You’re going to buy me a Cabaret.”

He paused, frowning.

She pursed her lips and stared.

A cabaret? There were worse acquisitions.

“Nuh uh.” She tapped his lips. “You will buy it for me. It will be mine, no interference, and when I need to play, I’ll play.”

“Done.” She could have asked for his crown, and he would have given it to her.

“That was almost too easy.”

“You can persuade me on the terms of purchase later.” He teased, his heart lighter than it had been in years. He didn’t even care that they were necking in the back of the stage’s wings.

“And as soon as we can, I want to invite Pandora to go—”

“Mr. Casere.” The cool tones of the Argentinean intruded. Kristina whirled and Richard barely got an arm around her in time to keep her from launching at the vampire.

“Shh,” he murmured to her hair, but keeping his grip firm. “Overseer.”

“Your presence is requested.” The world slid sideways. Kristina’s hands closed on his. He hated magic. He hated anything to do with it.

They arrived in a sickening rush in the same plain paneled room he’d visited earlier in the evening. Four figures waited on the dais, not five. Nostrils flaring, he detected no hint of the witch. Too bad for her. She should have been friendlier when he stood there as a supplicant.

Kristina went still as she gazed from the gray figures to him and back. Tucking her firmly against his side, he freed his right arm. If this came to a fight, he suspected he could take at least two of them. That left Kristina to fend off another two. Not good odds when she still needed to feed. He didn’t have to look around to know neither Anton nor David had been invited to the private soiree.

He’d hoped they would accept his offer, but not this soon. He smoothed away the anxiety knotting inside. They would face the Prince of New York, not a husband facing separation from his wife for the second time in a century.

“What’s going on?” Kristina asked, her voice somber and quiet.

“What is going on, Mrs. Casere, is a rare event—one you are being invited to witness because of our complicity in your imprisonment.” This came from the fourth figure, the one who hadn’t spoken during the earlier conversation. Richard hated the gray faces and blurred appearances. Harder to judge words and actions when he couldn’t read the body language.

“Does that mean I’m free?” She found his left hand with her right, fingers threading through his. She rubbed against his wedding ring, and a small smile turned up the corners of her mouth.

“Conditionally.”

The single word erased Richard’s joy and hardened his resolve. The banked fires of his anger surged through his blood. “Conditionally?” He demanded, abandoning polite protocol.

“You made us a provocative offer, Prince Richard. We have one to make you in return.”

“What is he talking about?” Kristina hissed the words in a quiet whisper from the corner of her mouth.

“He offered to trade his freedom for yours.” The Argentinean answered before Richard could. Kristina stiffened. “We were intrigued—the Prince of a City, arguably one of the few truly elite vampires in the entire nation, with an army at his beckoning—and he supplicates himself to us.”

“Richard,” Kristina turned away from the Overseers and stared up at him. “You can’t—we just—”

“I know. But I want your freedom more than I want my own. You have been trapped here for decades, my love, and I blame myself for that.”

Her expression softened. “I blame me for that too. But what good does my freedom do if you’re here and I’m not?”

“What are a few decades when I know you are safe and I will be able to return to you?” He smiled. “You have given up everything for me time and again. How can I do less for you?”

“No, I forbid you to do this—”

“Forbid me?” The mild disapproval in his voice just incensed her.

“Yes, I forbid you. You promised to put no one else above me and now you’re just going to make this decision without me? Choose to give your life to these…these…chickenshit power mongers in their gray shrouds of oblivion? How the hell does that bring us together?” She waved a hand toward the Overseers. “You forget, I have been here for fifty years. No one gets the better end of a bargain with them. The house always wins—”

“Except when it doesn’t.” He bowed his head, meeting her gaze. “I know. I will not agree without your consent, but, Kristina, I must leave Las Vegas before the next sun sets. Please do not make me leave you here. I would do anything for you, but I can’t do that.” He could survive whatever hell they plunged him into, if he knew she was safe. Malcolm would watch over her, and the families would keep her safe until he could join her again.

“I didn’t remember you for fifty years, and in five minutes I fell in love with you all over again. Please don’t make me leave without you. I’d rather be here, at least then we’d be cursed together…”

One of the Overseers cleared their throat, and Richard glared at him. “What?”

“This is very sweet, the declarations and passion, but you haven’t heard our offer.”

Kristina scowled and leaned into his arm. “We don’t want to hear your offer unless it includes the two of us being together.”

“Sweetheart…” While he shared her desire, he didn’t want her in the casino—much less the meeting—and they didn’t need to risk pissing off the keepers to the keys of this particular kingdom.

“No.” She stomped her foot. “Just no. Together or not at all.”

“Very well.” He acquiesced. It was a hell of a lot easier than he expected, and didn’t leave him feeling weaker as it might have in the first centuries of their relationship. He’d tasted life without her—it wasn’t worth living. He turned his attention to the Overseers. “Grant your boon, and then make your offer.”

Their impatience seemed to color the air around them. “What we are about to share with you must never leave this chamber—to do so would be to court death. If you agree, then you will be geas’d against ever mentioning it again. Do you understand?”

All four spoke in unison, the varying intonations and accents creating an eerie stereo effect.

Kristina glanced up at him, and he smiled. The agreement cost them nothing. He inclined his head to her and she nodded. “Very well, we agree to accept the geas, but only on this matter we are about to discuss and only for the length of time until that matter is no longer the topic.”

His bride grinned. “What he said.”

“Our boon is Kristina Casere’s freedom from the curse and lease held by Andrew, Prince of Las Vegas. Her placement in the Midnight Mystery Lounge and her contract as a dancer.” A snap of fingers crinkled the air, and Kristina exhaled a startled breath. She leaned against Richard, her legs buckling, and he caught her.

Her fangs appeared and the starry black of her eyes deepened. Hunger struck in the same breath, and he didn’t hesitate to bite his own wrist and hold it to her mouth. She latched on, almost desperately. The connection sizzled to life, and the hard pulls of her sucking filled him with delight. She was still too underfed, but the curse was broken. His blood was more than strong enough to slake her—particularly after she’d drunk from him the night before. And since he’d fed up for the occasion.

Their witnesses served as his only resentment. The intimacy of the moment should have been reserved for a more private location, but her safety and well being overrode his need for seclusion. Holding her closely, he dared any of them to comment, but they waited patiently.

It was Kristina who halted her feed, lapping at his wrist with sensual little licks until the wound closed. She let out another ragged little breath and smiled. “Thank you.”

“Always.” Forever and always, his body and soul were hers to command.

“And thank you.” She leaned her head against his shoulder tiredly. They needed to wrap this up. She needed rest and he needed to make arrangements for transport.

“Your offer?” He turned an expectant eye on their judges and hosts.

The magic settled over him like fine mesh netting. He recognized the geas and didn’t fight it. Kristina barely stirred.

“The identification of Marguerite DuBois’ crimes leaves us an Overseer short. We would extend an invitation to you, Richard Casere, Prince of New York, to join us in oversight. Your abilities, your intelligence, your indomitable will would serve us all well.”

Of all the offers he’d expected, that was not even on his list. He stared at the creatures. The Overseers exerted incredible global influence, even in cities where they held no property. Offending them was considered the greatest of crimes, their punishments were whispered like tales of boogeymen in the dark to quiet irascible youths. The money associated with the facility, the power at their fingertips—it surrounded them everywhere in the casino. One could even argue the fanatical devotion of their gambling addicts increased their reach.

The offer tempted.

Kristina stirred against him and he looked down at the most precious being on the planet. “Would she stay with me?”

“As Overseer, you would create your own terms. Your bride is your own.” It wasn’t exactly an answer.

“Richard?”

“Yes, my love?”

“Fuck no.”

He laughed and kissed her nose. “As you wish.” Still amused, he glanced at the gray figures. “We must respectfully decline your most generous offer and further, deem the matter of offense against my bride settled. You will have no quarrel with New York.”

The Overseers took the news well enough—they vanished. The doors opened behind them, and he swept Kristina up into his arms.

“I want to go home,” she tucked her head to his shoulder.

“As soon as I can call a car for us, darling.”

“And I want to invite Minion to New York.” Kristina yawned. “So we can go shopping.”

“Anything you want.”

“Hmmm.” Her smile took on an almost satisfied purr. “I could get used to this.”

“Good. Because I plan to spoil you, so you will never run away again.”

Her eyes slitted open to stare at him. “Even if you’re a blockhead?”

“Especially when I’m a blockhead.”

“Deal.”

He pressed the button for the lobby and snuggled her closer. No matter what else happened, Kristina was his again.

All was right with his world.