Author: Kalayna Price

The Collector ignored me. I was supposed to be seen and not heard.

Nathanial lifted the guide from my fingers. “As guests, I imagine we are guaranteed certain courtesies?”

“Of course. I am a hospitable hostess. All of your needs will be seen to.”

“And our blood?” he asked.

“Off-limits. As long as you are guests.”

Nathanial nodded. “In that case, Demur would be my preference.”

Chapter Nineteen

Several hours, a private jet—which was a brand new type of hell—and another limo ride later, we were ushered through the front door of a Victorian mansion. During the period I’d survived by posing as a stray cat, I’d been taken home by many kinds of people and thus ended up in many interesting houses.

But I’d never ended up in a house that included tall, towerlike turrets, large, sweeping staircases, or crystal chandlers that hung fifty feet over my head. I tugged the coat closed tighter around me and stared at my bare feet on the polished marble entry.

“The Mistress is in the drawing room,” the man who’d answered the door said as he bowed to the Collector.

She swept by him without a word, Elizabeth and the twins following. The man didn’t straighten from his bow, but he looked up, and his lips curled in a sneer as he watched their retreating backs. Okay, apparently the Collector wasn’t all that welcomed of a guest, even in cities she considered her own. That or the vamp didn’t appreciate the lack of acknowledgement. Hard to tell. Not that I had time to puzzle over it. Nathanial was already walking down the hall, following the Collector. I trudged behind him.

I was the last to file into the drawing room. Unfortunately, I wasn’t too late to miss the show. A blonde woman, wearing a dress gauzy enough to be seen through, sat in the center of a plush, red-velvet couch. A tanned man wearing only silk shorts and oil swayed on his knees in front of her, his body tilted forward, his head craned to expose one side of his throat, his eyes squeezed shut, and his hands moving over the lump in his black shorts. A thin trail of blood escaped around her brightly painted lips where they were locked on his throat. Another man, dressed identically to the first, lay sprawled across her lap, his eyes dazed.

She took her time amidst the tangle of male bodies, letting us watch from the doorway as her dinner began to tremble. I shuffled my feet, moving closer to Nathanial. He scowled at the scene, but his pupils were more dilated than the brightly lit room required. I’d taken a lot of blood from him the night before. Had he had time to hunt since then? I wasn’t sure I liked how he watched the stream of blood trailing down the man’s neck, but at least watching Nathanial’s reaction helped me ignore my own rising hunger.

The man cried out, drawing my attention again. His hands stilled and the woman pulled back. She let him sag to the floor as she stood. The limp man on her lap slid to the floor as well. Then she stepped over their prone figures.

She touched a manicured finger to the side of her mouth and sauntered forward. “Collector, you honor my city with your presence. I trust your trip was a pleasant one?”

Her city? This was the Master of Demur. Well, crap.

Weren’t there normal vampires anywhere in the country?

The Collector frowned at the woman. “Actually, the last few nights have been trying. Has Aaric arrived yet?”

“Shortly before you did,” a booming voice said from the doorway, and I jumped.

The Traveler ducked under the threshold, his long stride setting a path toward the Collector. I stiffened as he stepped around me. Unlike when I’d seen him in Haven, he had a scent now. He smelled of spongy wood, old cotton, and tanned leather. Not a vamp-powered projection this time.

Elizabeth rushed forward to greet him, but his attention was focused on the Collector as he bowed.

The Collector nodded at her second-in-command. Then she turned back to the Master of Demur. “Have my guests shown to a room,” she said before walking out with the Traveler. At the door she paused, turning to lift a finger at me. “And find some appropriate clothes for that one.”

Of all the— I gritted my teeth to block the string of words threatening to pour out of my mouth. I’m sure as hell wearing more clothing than the Master of Demur and her two snacks.

Not that I wanted to be compared to them. Shoving my hands in my pockets, I stared after the Collector’s retinue as they filed out of the room. Nathanial didn’t move to follow, so apparently we were waiting on the hospitality of our hostess.

The blonde woman stared at the doorway. No color lifted to her cheeks, but it might as well have—the anger coalescing in the air was all but palpable. I shifted my weight from one foot to another. Once the Collector vanished deeper into the house, the blonde turned back to Nathanial and me, her eyes assessing.

“And you would be who?” she asked, crossing her arms and tapping her long, red lacquered fingernails on her elbows.

Nathanial gave her a small bow from the waist. “I am known as the Hermit.”

Her full lips puckered as her eyes roved over him, but it wasn’t a hungry look and certainly not sexual. No, this vampire’s gaze held measuring scales.

Nathanial smiled at her. It was a dazzling smile that softened the sharp angles of his face. It was also fake. He held out his hand. “And you must be the radiant Aphrodite, Master of Demur. The reputation of your beauty has reached me even in my seclusion.”

Whatever scales she’d been measuring him by shifted, the balance weighing in his favor. She dropped her crossed arms, one hand moving to her hip, which she jutted out, exaggerating her hourglass shape. The other hand she slipped into Nathanial’s. He kissed her knuckles lightly.

“You’re not as old as your power feels,” she said, and it was a statement, not a question. “Yes, I am Aphrodite. You and your companion are welcome in my city, Hermit.” She turned, gesturing to one of the young men sprawled on the floor. He lifted his head groggily. “Daniel, show them to a guest room.”

* * * *

“Wait! Be careful what you say. Someone might be listening.”

The other side of the phone line was so quiet, I thought Bobby might have hung up. Hell, I was surprised he’d answered in the first place. The phone had never rung while I’d been at Nathanial’s house, and it had taken Nathanial two tries before he’d remembered his own phone number.

“Where are you?” Bobby finally asked.

“Does your hunter clearance allow you to leave the city?”

I could practically hear his frown through the phone. “I’ll see what I can do. Where are you?”

“The city our trouble started in.”

“You mean D—”

I cut him off. “Just try to make it here. Gil will meet you once you do.” Or at least, I hoped she would. I hadn’t talked to her yet.

“What’s going on, Kita?”

“I—You’re just going to have to trust me, Bobby. Oh, and Nathanial wants you to board Regan. The vet’s number is on the fridge. I have to go.” I hung up without saying goodbye.

Nathanial watched me from the edge of the king-sized bed that dominated the small room where we’d been escorted.

He’d said little since we arrived, and had warned me to watch what I said. As if I didn’t know our ‘guest’ status was more along the lines of ‘prisoners.’ I’d been held in worse places—chained to a mattress in Mama Neda’s basement directly after Nathanial turned me came to mind—but there was no doubt in my mind that we were both trapped and under observation.

The mostly glass French doors and the vast array of decorative mirrors guaranteed we could be seen anywhere in the room. The massive bed included gauzy, cream-colored curtains tied back with gold ropes, but while the curtains matched the comforter and the mound of cream and gold pillows, they were translucent, providing little privacy.

The only place that might have been ‘safe’ was a small bathroom tucked away in the corner. It was a pointless amenity for Nathanial and me, but it was stocked with soap and toilet paper, so maybe humans used this room on occasion. It also had a door, which made it the most private spot available.

I dropped the phone back in the cradle and dragged my bare feet through the thick carpet. Dawn was drawing dangerously close, but I had to talk to Gil before sunrise. The bathroom was about the only place I could chance calling her.

I didn’t hear Nathanial slide off the bed, but suddenly his arms wrapped around my shoulders.

“This scheming is dangerous,” he whispered into my hair.

“Come to bed.”

I shot a disparaging glance at the bed. The bed, singular—as in only one in the room. Then I glanced at the mostly glass doors.

“We’re practically a zoo exhibit in here,” I whispered, turning to face him.

I shouldn’t have turned. With his arms around my shoulders, turning brought us chest to chest, and with the invisible eyes I imagined watching us, it was too close, too intimate. But he didn’t appear to have any intention of letting me go. Instead, he leaned closer, bringing his lips near my ear.

When he spoke, his words were only for me. “We are guests. Vampires take hospitality very seriously. As long as we retain our guest status, we will be treated cordially and will be guaranteed safe passage. While the room lacks a measure of privacy, our room will be our sanctuary during our stay. That said, very little can be kept private in a house full of vampires. Even if they do not intentionally eavesdrop, careless words can be overheard. I imagine Aphrodite has sound proof rooms for her sensitive business discussions, but this is most definitely not one of them. Stop scheming. Let us go to bed.”

I shrugged out of his arms. Safe passage sounded good, as did sanctuary and the idea we might not be under constant observation. “I’ll be quick,” I said, slipping into the bathroom.

At the disapproving look he gave me, I added, “and quiet.”

I would have shut him out if I could have closed the door fast enough. I was just a little too slow. The bathroom wasn’t made for two, and it sure as hell wasn’t made for three.