“It isn’t pity,” she murmured, and pressed her lips to his cheek. Willing him to heal whatever wounds had made him this way would do no good, but the urge to hold him was far too strong to resist.

She felt Damien shudder, and his arms came around her, squeezing her to him tightly. His hands fisted in the fabric of her dress. In that instant, she could feel the tension that made him thrum like a live wire.

She melted into him, willing him silently to let go.

Then there were footsteps and a burst of laughter that shattered the moment into pieces. One of the humans, cheerfully drunk as they made their way to their car, called out with a suggestion that she and Damien get a room.

He pulled away, though at least not as abruptly as he had last night. This time she saw the regret on his face. With his indifferent mask having slipped, he looked tired and vulnerable.

He needs me, she thought wistfully, then cursed herself for letting an idea like that into her head at all. She knew Elena was right. That way lay heartache.

For once, Damien had no pithy comment, no cutting aside. “Let’s go,” he said. “Night’s wasting.”

And with nothing to say, as confused about these odd feelings for him as she had ever been about anything in her long life, Ariane got in the car.

Chapter Ten

THE SEAT OF the Empusae was an old mansion set back behind a field of tall, sweet-scented grass and a thick wood beyond. The mansion was hidden from view of the road, visible only to boaters where it looked out over Lake Wylie, and the long drive was lined with cherry trees that burst into clouds of baby pink each spring.

Now, in the heat of July, the trees wore only deep green leaves, but the effect was still one of an entrance into another time. Damien tried to concentrate on the road, but he couldn’t help noticing Ariane’s reaction to the place, her nose pressed against the window.

He had to find a way to distance himself from her. He’d always enjoyed expressing himself physically… as long as that meant giving some willing wench a tumble before getting back to his own business. But he’d thought he was long past needing something so simple, so pure, as someone’s arms around him.

And yet he’d felt something inside shift and begin to crumble away at Ariane’s touch.

Though he would never admit it to another soul, it scared the hell out of him. He liked things fine the way they were. He was perfectly comfortable not giving a damn about anyone but himself, with some small space reserved around the periphery for those he found interesting enough to call friends.

Innocence had always disgusted him. So what the hell was different this time?

“Oh,” she sighed as they drove through the trees and the house appeared in front of them.

It had been done in the Greek Revival style, a massive white structure with graceful columns. Soft candlelight flickered through the windows, giving the place an unexpectedly welcoming effect. Damien found himself smiling a little. Vampires did love their candlelight. More flattering, more mysterious… and also more comforting to the many who had been born long before the age of electric lights.

The grounds stretched out along either side of the house, with a beautiful little domed building that Damien knew to be a temple off to the left. It was a beautiful place, well suited to the women who called it home.

He pulled up to the tall wrought-iron gate that blocked them from the house. A comm box was mounted just before it, and Damien knew full well there were cameras in the trees. The Empusae might revel in the past, but some bits of modern technology were too useful to pass up.

He pushed the button, and after a moment, a light female voice said, “State your business, please.”

Damien slid a glance at Ariane, who looked good enough to eat tonight. Her jaw was tight, the only sign of her nerves apart from the hands clasped tightly in her lap. She seemed to be worried they would reject her coming. He knew the truth, however. Mormo was desperate to remain relevant. A Grigori visiting her court would be more than welcomed.

He, on the other hand, might not be. He had not been summoned. Fortunately, what Ariane had shared with him gave them an excellent cover.

“Ariane of the Grigori to see the lady Diana,” he said into the comm. Here, he was comfortable using Ariane’s real identity. According to all the sources he’d tapped, word hadn’t gotten out about Ariane. The Grigori appeared to be rather invested in keeping word of defections quiet.

There was barely a pause. “Drive in, please, and welcome.”

The doors of the gate swung slowly, silently open in front of them, and Damien cruised slowly into the large circle of stamped concrete.

“You can breathe now, kitten,” he said without looking at her. There was a loud exhalation beside him, and he had to struggle to keep his amusement to himself. Ariane’s honesty, in both word and action, would be a problem in some places. Here, however, it would be a boon. The Empusa herself, it was said, could see into a person’s very soul. He doubted that, but the Empusae as a whole were uncanny judges of character.

Damien pulled the car off to one side and killed the engine. Though he didn’t see a soul, he knew they were being watched. Dynasty courts never wanted to look paranoid, but they all were underneath. So afraid of losing power, he thought disgustedly. Though he supposed that if they weren’t, he’d be out of a job.

Damien got out, walked around the back of the car, and opened Ariane’s door for her. Part of it was old—very old—habit. The other part was simple enjoyment of her obvious puzzlement at being attended to. He got the sense that she had often been overlooked among her own kind. How, he had no idea, but it marked the Grigori as being every inch the useless fools that their highblood counterparts generally were.

Ariane was sweet, and kind, and beautiful. Like one of those bloody fairy-tale princesses who were always accompanied by singing wild animals.

He looked down and noted that this particular fairy princess looked rather ill and was making no attempt to get out of the car.

“I’m not sure about this,” she said, lifting her bright violet eyes to his. Damn her, he thought, for having a face that kept knocking him on his ass every time he looked at it. He would not coddle her.

“I am,” he said. “You wanted to team up, so here we are. I don’t know what you’re worried about. I have every intention of doing all the work.”

“They’re going to know,” Ariane blurted. “What if they’ve been told to look for me? Who’s to say Sariel hasn’t put out word among the dynasties? I don’t want to go back, Damien. I can’t go back.”

The sudden shift in her demeanor surprised him. He leaned down for a closer look and quickly saw what he hadn’t noticed on the trip over. Ariane wasn’t just worrying. She was rapidly moving into a full-blown panic.

“Darling,” he said without thinking, then bit his own tongue in silent reprimand. “Ariane, they won’t know. The other Shades don’t even know. Sariel isn’t concentrating on you at present. Be thankful.”

“They told you,” she replied. “And your boss.”

Damien shrugged. “It was pertinent to my job. You rarely hear of a Grigori leaving the flock, Ariane, and then only long after the fact. I don’t think they want it known. When Sammael is found, one way or another, I imagine they’ll start hunting you in earnest. Save your fears for then, all right?” He paused. “Was it really that bad?”

She took a moment to collect herself, and Damien watched her as she squared her shoulders, breathed deeply, and slid out of the car.

“It wasn’t bad,” she said, finally answering him. “But it was barely like living at all.”

“Hmm. Don’t want to return to boring same-old. I understand,” he said.

But Ariane shook her head. “No, it’s more that I don’t want to disappear. That’s what happens to our deserters. They’re brought back, and they vanish.”

He wasn’t surprised—he’d seen every manner of harsh punishment inflicted on a vampire for lesser transgressions, so why not? But the thought of those big, white-haired bastards dragging Ariane off and making her vanish filled him with a dark, ugly rage. Even as he sought to tamp it down, he was reassuring her, something he’d sworn he would not do.

“You won’t vanish, Ariane. I’ll make sure of that. Now let’s go in—we look ridiculous standing out here.”

She seemed to take his words to heart. Ariane nodded, her expression relaxing. His eyes dropped to her mark, so clearly seen with her hair swept up. Wings, done in a style that was very formal, classic… strong. It was apt. He’d seen Ariane fight, and she was much stronger than she looked. It was hard to forget how all that tightly coiled strength had felt against him.

“I’m going to hold you to that, and I don’t care how much of a liar you are,” she said. He knew she meant keeping her safe… but she just had to say it while he was thinking of undressing her.

“Feel free to hold me to anything you like,” he murmured, and something in his face made her blush prettily, though she didn’t look away.

“Maybe I will,” she said.

If only.

“You have a dirty mind, kitten,” Damien said. “I told you I’m a bad influence. Now let’s go see what we can discover.”

Ariane stayed close to Damien as the double doors to the house swung open without assistance from any visible beings. Beyond was an enormous entry hall, with two staircases curving away from one another before meeting at the top. Everything was marble, from columns to the floors, and an enormous medallion with the flame of the Empusae as its center was carved into the center of the floor. Candles flickered from sconces on the walls, and beyond the columns on either side, gauzy curtains framed floor-to-ceiling windows. The entire effect was dreamlike, and reminded her in some ways of the Hall of the Grigori.

She stepped over the threshold, barely noticing the wispy column of smoke that rose before them until it solidified into a familiar shape.

“Diana!” Ariane said, surprised into a grin that eased her tension considerably. Hearing about the unique abilities of each bloodline was one thing, but seeing them was quite another.