2

But New Orleans still ran because of me. We had access to vampire gossip because of me. They all used The Neutral Zone and trusted it was exactly as declared because clearly Francois Ricard was too stupid to ever be anything but obvious.

But I heard all and I saw all. I hid my technology behind the distraction of red and black, the veneer of old luxury. No one ever looked further than that to see the drinking rooms below the restaurant or the surveillance rooms on the floors above.

I could have everything I wanted, and it would only take one human woman to achieve.

In a burst of energy, I slammed my fist on Father’s chest, the crack of bones satisfying this time. He’d be healed by the time he rose, and his punishment wouldn’t matter because I would already have everything I wanted.

I left his side and hurried through the portal that would take me home before crossing the damp grass, moving between verdant green leaves on the branches of trees that hung too low to be fashionable and probably concealed all manner of predators. None of that mattered, though, because I was truly the apex predator here now. Even mere thoughts of the human woman had brought me strength.

I could only imagine what her blood and her body would do to me.

But I had to proceed carefully.

The old legends, our lore, spoke of willingness and that meant seduction. I couldn’t afford to lose myself to rage or to bloodlust again. I looked across the bumpy surface of the lawn along the east wall. I’d been practicing for this moment for many years, and I nearly had it under control.

I ignored the unmarked graves. Soon, I’d no longer see them as measures of my failure. They’d be my worthwhile journey.

“Angelique,” I called, my voice stronger than it had been in decades as I entered my home. “Angelique, we’re to have a guest. Prepare the bride’s room, s’il te plaît.”

1

Leia

H

e approached me with a smile and a blindfold, and I scrambled off the bed as his fangs descended, fear stealing my ability to breathe. Sex play was new. He’d only brought me food or water before, and occasionally I’d seen him open the door wide enough to peer in, like he just wanted to see me.

When I’d woken up in this room, fear had bound me so tightly, I thought I might die from it. The fear was dulled now, but it wasn’t gone.

“Ma petite,” the vampire murmured. “Do not be afraid, ma petite. I’d never harm you. I must simply take precautions. Our time here grows short. I wish to take you home.”

A sigh of relief caught in my throat. Home. Nic. The thought of him came unbidden. Worse, his nickname ran around my head like an intimate caress as my subconscious claimed him in a way I’d never wanted nor intended. But somehow—possibly in the face of this crazy vampire holding a blindfold—Nicolas Dupont had come to represent safety.

“Nicolas?” His name was out of my mouth before I thought it through, and I grimaced when the other vampire glowered.

“Non,” he snapped. “Not Nicolas.”

He whined Nicolas’s name, making it sound weak, when the man I knew was anything but weak. Nicolas was commanding and in control. The memory of Nicolas’s controlled strength as he’d held me or kissed me still drew fire through me, and I clung to that fierce heat.

“Maison de Ricard,” he said as if that explained everything. “With Francois Ricard. With me.” He jabbed his chest emphatically.

“Fr…Francois?” I took a reluctant step forward. If knowledge was power, at least I knew his name now.

“Oui.” His face lit up with a smile, his pleasure plain to see. “Oui, ma petite. Your Francois. Speak my name again. I want to taste my name on your lips.” He moved closer, but I held my hands out.

“I don’t want to wear that.” I pointed at the black blindfold, still dangling from his hand like a spent flag.

He glanced at it and his brow furrowed. “But you must. You can’t see.”

I shook my head. “I won’t.” Determination filled me. Fuck this guy.

Francois obviously had no idea how much shit I’d already been through in the last week. He wasn’t the first vampire to show an unhealthy interest in me.

He shrugged, a look of regret flashing through his eyes. “Then we need to do it the hard way.” He half turned toward the door. “Victor!” he barked, and a large man, so broad his shoulders almost touched both sides of the doorframe, strode into view.

I took a step backward.

“Victor can knock you out, instead,” Francois’s tone was gentle, at odds with the violence he’d just promised, and I froze as Victor curled his hand into a fist the size of a sledgehammer.

“No, he can’t.” I spoke quickly. “He could kill me. Look at the size of him. If he hits me, I could die.”

I hadn’t fucking survived attempts to bite my neck to die at the hands of man whose reason to exist seemed to be to issue beatings, if his build was any indication.

Francois cocked his head as he watched me, his gaze narrowing slightly.

“Yes,” he murmured. “Yes, I’d forgotten the fragility of humans.” He reached out like he might touch me. “So delicate.” Then he shook his head like he was breaking a spell. “You must wear the blindfold. There is no other choice.”

Shit. I’d been holding out hope that Nicolas might somehow rescue me from this multi-colored prison. Even now, the riot of carnival colors splashed over the walls jarred me. The only relief I got was lying on my back on the bed and looking up at the plain white ceiling.