Waiting in the Wings

Chapter Three

Kiki emerged from the shroud of bliss slowly. The events of the last couple of hours rushed in, echoing through the pleasant soreness tingling throughout her body. Richard’s weight pressed her into the bed. He slept on his stomach, his face buried in the pillows. At some point, he must have dragged the covers over them. She didn’t remember. Sliding out from under his arm, she slipped off the bed and looked around the opulent bedroom for her clothes. Her panties were in tatters, so she dropped them into the trash.

Her bra wasn’t in much better shape. She held up the frayed lace and grinned. The vampire had turned out to be an absolute beast in the bed. Dropping the bra after the panties, she shimmied into the dress and tiptoed into the bathroom. Turning on the water, she splashed her face and inspected her appearance in the mirror. Her lips were swollen and red from his kisses. Two faint puncture marks marred her throat.

Thrill skated up from her belly. A real vampire. She’d had sex with a real vampire, and he bit her. She just might swoon. She ran her fingers through her tousled hair and grinned. The romp definitely took the edge off her restlessness. Now she could concentrate on Heidi’s “you’re dancing lead” news. Regret fluttering in her belly, she padded back into the bedroom and stared at the sleeping vampire with his thick shock of black hair, square jaw and absolutely delicious body.

But one look at the clock stymied the desire creeping over her. It had been a lot longer than two hours.

Closer to eight.

Panic flared.

When is sunrise?

Spinning on a heel, she darted for the door and pulled it open as silently as she could. Speeding through the unfamiliar apartment, she found her shoes near the door. She vaguely remembered tugging the boots off to dance around on the furniture. Heat suffused her skin. The reckless abandon allowed her to accompany a total stranger—three total strangers—to a private apartment, and the reality of it all sobered her mood.

She opened the front door a crack when a hard masculine arm slammed it shut. Richard spun her around and pressed her right up against the door. Gloriously nude and rumpled from sleep, his mouth fused with hers and stifled her objections. Releasing her lips, he leaned his forehead to hers. “Where are you going?”

Even his voice, husky and deep from sleep, sent shivers racing up her spine.

“I have to go.” She sighed. “Places to see, people to be.”

He drifted closer, the musky scent of him wrapping around her. He nuzzled her cheek and feathered kisses along her ear. “You don’t have to go anywhere…”

She stopped his sensual assault with a hand flat against his chest. “Look, sexy beast, this was fun, and those orgasms were amazing. But I have to go now.”

His expression darkened. “Kristina…”

“Richard?” She lifted her eyebrows, challenging.

“We have much to discuss. You need to stay here.” Command flowed through his tone and stroked against her.

Trailing her fingers down his chest, she admired the cut of his muscles even if he was paler than the guys she might normally tease. Her sex clenched, but her internal clock ticking down warned her against giving in. “I appreciate the offer, beastie boy, I really do. But I have a show tonight…” Inspiration struck and she gave him a little shove backwards. “Midnight Mystery Lounge—come watch me. Maybe we’ll party again after.”

He let her move him, but when she tried to open the door, he pulled her back around. “No. No more shows. No more performances. It’s time for you to come home.” The demand scorched her—urged her to obey—and she shoved again. Only this time he didn’t move.

“Yeah, okay. Look—you’re great in bed. Loved the sex. Had a blast. Even enjoyed the bite. But stop being a douche. You don’t own me.” Twisting beneath his arm, she hooked her leg behind his and pushed. But he snaked an arm around her waist and instead of toppling, he had her back up against the door.

“Kristina, look at me.” His gaze pinned her. His pupils dilated. The room faded away, elongating behind him as though the world retreated in a rush. His eyes filled her vision, his heart thundered in her ears and his scent filled her nostrils. “Remember.” The word, heavy with so much meaning, pushed at her and the world snapped, like a rubber band stretched too far. The recoil stung and Kiki did the only thing she could think to do.

She drove her fist into his solar plexus. She aimed lower, but he dodged. Breaking from the trance, she wrenched the door open and marched over to the elevator. Goon One and Goon Two straightened as she exited. She punched the button to summon the elevator. Awareness blanketed her.

Richard stood at her back.

“Don’t.” She ordered. She could barely make out his reflection in the golden doors, but his hand hovered at her shoulder.

“Kristina…”

The doors opened and she stepped inside, pivoting to face him. “My name is Kiki. Thanks for the fun—and the creepy look into my eyes shtick. I enjoyed it.”

She winked and hit the down button. Richard stared at her, brows drawn together in a scowl so fierce relief flooded her when the doors closed him out. She sagged back against the wall, heart pounding. Bravado was all well and good, but she had a feeling she just poked that sexy beast a little too hard.

Rubbing her fingers against her lips, lightheadedness surged through her. She flicked a look to the controls. The elevator’s descent seemed to be taking forever. The languid heat from their lovemaking receded. Sunrise was close.

Too close.

“Hurry.” She whispered. She couldn’t afford to be caught in the open. “C’mon…” Her foot tapped and as soon as the doors opened, she rushed out.

The normal throngs of people and creatures were absent from the lobby. She cut across the sphinx’s path and circled the fountain. Stan leaned against the entrance to the theatre and her heart sank.

He just stared at her.

“I am not even going to try and explain.” She gave him a tired grin. Her cheeks ached, and it took effort to smile. Lethargy pumped through her blood. The sun’s ascent sped the day’s arrival.

“Good.” Expressionless, he nodded, but made no move to get out of her way. Kiki cut her gaze to the left. Sound muted, like a dozen cotton balls being stuffed into her ears.

“Stan…”

The guardian merely looked at her. His folded arms, firm stance and cold eyes denied her.

“I have to get inside.” She looked left again. Sunlight glittered like red fire on the horizon. Liquid gold spilled upwards behind the building…and splashed against the front windows, stretching out like greedy fingers across the marble floor.

Fear stabbed her in the belly.

“Stan…”

The guardian didn’t move. “You escaped the safety of the theatre. We cannot be held responsible for what happens next.”

The elevator doors dinged across the lobby. She twisted to look back…no, no no…not like this. She didn’t want Richard to see her. He couldn’t see her when this happened. Wrenching around, she begged Stan with her eyes. “Please…”

The sun inched closer, and icy heat swarmed over her. Her heart slowed, her hands clenched. Richard appeared in her periphery, his dark slacks open at the waist and his dark expression tight.

“Don’t look at me.” She ordered him. “Look away.” But the words garbled, mashing together with the slowness of her tongue. Denied entrance, she would die on this spot when the sun touched her. Frozen, she could only stand there and wait her inevitable end. At least she got to have sex—really, freaking amazing sex—before it ended. A tiny sigh escaped. She would like to have danced the lead too. But…

She closed her eyes, the lids fluttering down, desperate to not see his face when the end came and a sparkling gray curtain dropped over her, blotting out the world.

Rage and frustration drove Richard to follow her down to the lobby. It imploded, sucked into a black hole of horror. Malcolm had warned him. He had explained the curse trapping the dancers to their servitude—a curse that transformed them into a doll-like state while the sun rose. The sunlight trickling through the paned glass windows continued to inch forward toward her booted feet. Everything about her changed, except for her clothing. She looked like a mannequin.

The salt-and-pepper haired man she’d fled in the casino stepped forward and put his hand on Kristina’s porcelain arm. Violence strained at the leash of common sense. He needed a plan. A plan to recover her memory and free her. A plan that extended beyond attack.

“Interesting. You are not surprised.” He lifted Kristina’s frozen form to his shoulder, carrying her as he would just so much extra weight.

Surprised? No. Horrified? Yes. Richard refused to share those thoughts, however. He studied the man. He had no scent, his heart rate didn’t increase and no blood pounded ferociously through his system—there was no trace of fear on him at all. “Where will you take her?”

“Downstairs. She will be performing tonight—maybe. You can check the schedule later. And I suggest finding a shirt and shoes. Dress code is lax, but not that lax.” The man turned, and the doors opened as if by a thought, and he carried Kristina inside. Richard forced himself not to follow. When one of his men stepped forward, he held up a hand.

“Anton, find Frederick Reynolds. Now.” Malcolm’s younger, far more impulsive cousin currently worked within the boundaries of the Arcana Royale serving out a penance of his own to the overseers.

“Yes, sir.” The man spun and crossed the lobby at a clipped pace.

“Sir?” David, his second bodyguard, edged around him. “The sunlight.”

Richard glanced to his left. The pool of sunlight rippled toward him, and he watched the edge creep towards him dispassionately.

David didn’t move, but the vampire’s concern rippled across his guarded expression. The doors to the theatre closed behind his bride and her caretaker. Caretaker. The thought left a rancid taste in his mouth.

Drumming his fingers against his thigh, a blast of warm air drifted in the front doors as they opened. The sunlight intensified and a lick of it scalded his shoulder. David gave him a shove, moving him away from the light.

“Sir?” A woman appeared in his periphery—dark hair, dark skinned, with a tilt to her eyes and a Turkish lilt to her accent. Dressed in a skintight black bodysuit, she wore an air of danger and desire. She held up a cream-colored card with stylized writing.

He pivoted to face her. Too many questions without enough answers. Making love to Kristina again was everything he’d imagined and dreamed—except she still didn’t remember him. She was still trapped by some damnable curse.

“A personal invitation for you.” She offered the card, but Richard didn’t touch it. The casino specialized in games within games, deception wrapped in puzzles and ambushes disguised as aid.

“From?” A burst of noise from the main doors spilled into the lobby as a group of weres stumbled in, arms around each other for support, singing drunkenly. Richard sensed more than saw David shift his position, blocking Richard’s bare back.

The woman’s coy smile did not touch her eyes. “It is a private invitation for the prince of New York.”

“David.” Richard motioned to the bodyguard, who held out his hand and took the card without hesitation for possible spell work laid into the paper. The man’s dedication would be rewarded.

The exotic beauty bowed her head. “I am to wait for an answer.”

“I’ll send one along.” He wouldn’t be pressed into a rash act—not while his temper already danced on the precipice of the abyss. He wanted to tear the doors off the theatre and march in there to claim his bride. This woman would do well to stay out of his way.

Finished with the conversation, Richard walked away. He almost hoped she would try to pursue him—or better, attack him. It had been some time since the urge to hunt, tear and rend surfaced inside him. Sadly, she did neither and remained where she was, her gaze unflinchingly meeting his when he faced her from inside the elevator.

“I don’t smell magic.” David informed him when the elevator doors closed.

“That doesn’t mean anything.” The best spells lay dormant until activated by contact with the target or through some manipulation by the caster. The doors opened to Anton waiting with Frederick Reynolds. The younger Reynolds leaned against the wall, weariness etched into his expression, but he straightened when Richard strode out. Bowing slightly, the younger vampire said nothing.

“Inside.” Richard pointed to the doors. Anton swung them open, and all three followed him. Kristina’s scent layered over everything. He could pick up the traces of their lovemaking—the sweet decadence of her arousal—and practically taste her on his tongue.

A fresh wave of anger crashed through him. He didn’t slow his pace until he reached the bar. He poured a three fingers of brandy into one glass and tossed it all back with a swallow. Shutters blockaded every window, providing them with a safe refuge from the desert heat and dangerous sunshine.

“Your Highness, my cousin called to tell me about the Lady Kristina…”

Holding up a hand, the prince silenced him. “What can you tell me about the Midnight Mystery Lounge?”

Planting both hands on the back of a sofa, Frederick leaned forward. “Malcolm and his bride would know more, but I’ve done some homework. The casino does not own the theatre and lounge outright. In fact, no one knows who owns the Midnight Mystery Lounge. The stage manager, however, is in charge of the whole operation.”

“Heidi.” Richard pulled the name from the conversation with Malcolm.

“Yes. I know even less about her than I do the theatre itself. Security is minimal on the surface, but it is tied into the casino’s private security—a combination of wraiths and weres. I wouldn’t recommend going head to head with them.”

He didn’t plan to challenge the casino directly. To do that, he would need to kill Andrew and put Las Vegas under his thumb. He didn’t have months to put together his plan, but if he needed to absorb the territory, he would. “What do you know about Heidi?”

“She lives in the theatre somewhere. She rarely if ever leaves it. In the months that I’ve been here, I think I’ve see her twice.” Frederick blew out a breath. “I have no idea what the hell she is. I thought a witch maybe—”

“Did you scent her?” Richard poured himself a second drink. The guardian at the door had no scent. Kristina’s scent carried subtle alterations, as did her blood. The curse was one explanation, but the weakness he sensed—the starvation. Was that the curse or something else?

“Never got that close. Lots of rumors about her. Rumors about soul stealing, puzzle boxes, transformations and manipulations. She also has some kind of demon pet—which is what made me think witch.” His discomfort apparent, the younger vampire straightened, fists clenching as though trying to keep himself from fidgeting.

“Is there a problem, Frederick?” He swirled the drink around.

“A lot of people know you’re here, Prince Richard. A lot of people, and there is a rumor that you will be challenging Prince Andrew—and a betting pool began.”

Of course it did, because why else would the Prince of New York leave his city for the hellish oasis in the middle of the desert? He took a long drink of the alcohol, the burn quenching the knots of tension in his gut.

“Do not let it trouble you. But I need you to do something for me…”

“Anything.” He was almost too eager, and the flash of a wince in his eyes answered Richard’s unspoken question. Frederick had orders where he was concerned. Orders from the masters he now served.

“Get close to this Heidi. Find her weak points, places I can negotiate.” He wanted him to do another task, but that would be impossible now. Not when he served dual masters.

“If you wish, Your Highness. I’m not sure how close I can get to her, my job…” The younger Reynolds trailed off at Richard’s bland look and bowed his head. “I will do my best, sir.”

“Good and one more thing.” He stopped the vampire from leaving. “Read the message David has.”

Frederick cut a look toward the bodyguard and the card he held. “I’m not sure I should…” He spun and raced for the door, but Anton pinned him before he made it out. The younger vampire struggled, but he was no match for the much older Anton to contain and pin against the wall.

Richard contained his disappointment. Swirling the drink in his glass, he nodded to David. “Give him the card.”

The second bodyguard approached and Frederick’ efforts to escape redoubled. “Please, sir—”

Saying nothing, Richard merely waited him out. Anton shackled one of Frederick’ wrists and forced the palm open, leaning his shoulder and hip into the other man to keep him still. David lowered the cardstock, and Frederick yelped. “It’s a trap sir. It’s challenge from Prince Andrew.”

David froze, the card not quite touching the boy who should be a man.

“So why is it such a problem for you, Frederick? If it’s a challenge, surely your masters won’t let you accept it anyway…”

“Malcolm. You left Malcolm in charge. I’m his representative here—sort of—it can be argued that if I touch it and accept it, then he must fulfill the blood duel.”

The logic was sound, almost rational. “Andrew cannot challenge me until three full sunsets have passed.” He had time, particularly since he arrived after sunset last night.

“Perhaps not, but there’s a rumor the Arcana Royale may leave Las Vegas for a reservation in New York and…”

Richard laughed and shook his head. “You’re an idiot. The Overseers will not move their entire operation—nor would it matter if they did—as they cannot operate it within the boundary of the island of Manhattan, not when many of their clientele cannot cross water.” He drained his drink and held out his hand to David. Anton continued to keep Frederick captive while David passed the card to Richard.

Scanning the information, the vampire prince sighed. “It is an invitation—but not to combat. But thank you for the information that Andrew is planning something and the Overseers are encouraging the rumors.” Why shouldn’t they? If the princes of two cities came into conflict, a lot of profit stood to be made—particularly for a third party.

Frederick sagged. “I’m sorry. I thought—”

“No, you didn’t think, but then that is why you are in this situation. Do as I bid you. Get close to the stage manager. Learn everything and tell me before you tell the masters holding your leash.”

“But they might find out.”

The younger cousin of his oldest and closest friend or not, Frederick Reynolds had a great deal to learn. “Then remember you only serve them for a century. After that you return to my court—and my city.”

Frederick swallowed. “Yes, sir.”

“Show him out, Anton.” He tossed the invitation down and stared at the were-bear rug Kristina wiggled her toes against. “You two may retire for the day.”

Less than a minute later the two were gone. The card stock invitation announced a special show for one week only—featuring Kristina as the lead dancer—and his presence was requested. He didn’t recognize the handwriting, but he expected this was their answer to his five-million-dollar offer.

Picking up the phone, he dialed Malcolm’s number and the man answered on the first ring. “Malcolm, my apologies for calling so late in the morning. But I need to speak to your bride…”

He heard a murmuring and rustle of sheets and then a soft, breathless feminine voice said a tentative hello.

“Can you tell me what happens…exactly…when the curse activates during the daylight hours?”

“I can try.” The woman sighed. “I don’t know if it’s the same for everyone.”

“I understand this may be difficult.” He owed Malcolm’s bride that much respect, but he needed the answer. He needed to understand.

“It’s not painful. It’s cold and it’s lonely. You are you one moment and then you are in a gray place—alone—no sense of time or place or even self. It’s not sleeping, and I never dreamed. But I know one of the others did…”

“Kristina?” The daylight slumber of vampires was sometimes dreamless, but only in the first few years for the turned. Those born—like he and Malcolm—always dreamed.

“No. Her name is Cerveau. She dreams. A great deal, but she never told us what happened in the dreams. I used to tease her that she made it up, but maybe she didn’t.”

“And when you wake? What do you feel then?”

“I—it’s like being turned back on. The rush to the senses can be a little overwhelming at first. But you don’t really feel the passage of time. It’s more like you step from that one moment you were in when you went to sleep to the next, when you are awake.”

“And no pain?” As little comfort as the idea brought him, he wanted her to feel no pain.

“No physical pain. Of course, when you do it in front of someone you love, it hurts you to hurt them.”

The sadness in Kristina’s gaze, the faintest glimmer of horror and tears in her eyes as the polished white sheen took over her body and froze her features.

She still loved him.

Relief flooded through his soul. She may not remember him. She may be trapped in that limbo. But she still cared…

“I don’t know how this can help you.” Malcolm’s bride sighed. He appreciated the candor and the sympathy.

“Tell me, do you know why she was cursed?”

“No.” The answer disappointed.

“Is it likely the stage manager will tell me if I ask her?” He carefully avoided using the woman’s name. Malcolm indicated his bride and Heidi seemed friendly.

“Only if she really wants to but—” Her hesitation to complete the thought warned him of her concern. Her nails drummed against a wooden surface. “What Heidi knows, Minion almost certainly does and she and Kiki are really close. Minion also adores shiny objects, toys and chocolate…”

So the pet demon can be bribed…

“Sir, I know you want to help Kiki, but please don’t hurt Minion. She’s crazy and unpredictable and completely without a malicious bone in her body. I can try to send Kiki a text, Minion always reads her phone, but that might alert Heidi, and I don’t know what they would do.”

“No, thank you, you’ve told me quite a bit.” He soothed. “And I appreciate it. I will not hurt the little demon. You have my word.”

But the potential to trade one hostage for another…

That he could do.